Sweet Tooth: A Second Chance Romance

by Aria Ford

  “Macy,” she’d said with some concern during a dinner for the Trent Foundation members—a charity my father had established. “I’m so worried about my son.”

  “Yes?” I’d asked, frowning.

  “You see…he’s associating with some—unsuitable types. What should I do? I know he would listen to you. Maybe you could talk to him.”

  I had raised a brow. “Unsuitable types?” My heart had twisted in my chest. By then I was already seeing Maddox and knew that my parents didn’t exactly approve of him.

  “Yes. Boys from backgrounds very different to his. I’m worried that they’ll affect his grades. They don’t have the same, well, priorities he does.” she’d said fairly.

  I remembered wanting to laugh. All Maddox cared about was football. If she meant him, she was right.

  “I don’t think I can really help, Aunt,” I’d said fairly. “You see, I don’t think Grady would listen to me. Not about this subject, anyway.”

  I knew he wouldn’t listen to me because it’d be blatantly hypocritical of me to say anything about Maddox. Grady knew about our closeness. Why would it make any sense for me to tell him that they weren’t appropriate friends?

  My aunt had seemed to visibly shrink. But she’d accepted my word. “Very well,” she’d said sorrowfully. “I can just hope he’ll grow out of it.”

  It was almost a decade ago, but the words were still fresh in my mind. I think it had made a profound impact on me. It was the first time I’d had to confront what my family would think of Maddox.

  I slipped into my office and sat at my desk. I had a conference call in an hour and I needed to prepare for it, but my thoughts were with Maddox and my future. It only occurred to me after my memory of the conversation that I’d always worried about what my family would think of Maddox. Was I still worried now?

  Well, I sighed. Grady never had a problem with him. I wonder what he’d say, if he knew we were back together?

  As I read over the material for the talk, I wondered if I should tell my cousin. He was a high-powered corporate lawyer now, angling for a career in government if he could get involved somehow. But he had a good heart. He always had.

  If I find myself thinking seriously about Maddox, I think I might just contact Grady after all.

  I just had to decide, in my heart, whether or not I was serious.

  “Actually, I already know,” I said aloud as I reached for a folder of documents to peruse quickly.

  I knew how I felt about him. I just had no idea how he felt about me. Or how he had ever felt, for that matter. He had decided to shut me out of his life, after all, all those years ago. Was there any chance now of getting let in—really let in—again? I sighed. I still had absolutely no real clue.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Maddox

  The evening light flowed in through my window, painting a pool of soft yellow, outlined in golds and grays, on my countertop. I stirred the stir-fry in my wok with a desultory hand, thinking about Macy.

  It had been almost twenty-four hours since we met for dinner yesterday, since that magical night began. And, as yet, I’d heard nothing from her. Should I be worried?

  I sighed. Maybe I was being stupid. Maybe she was waiting for me to break the ice? I decided to try it.

  Hi, Macy, I messaged. Would you like to meet for coffee tomorrow?

  I sent it and closed my eyes, wondering if I’d done something sensible or something dumb. Probably dumb. It’s me, after all…not like I have a record of bright ideas. I put the phone on the table in the sitting room and went back to the kitchen.

  I stirred the supper with unnecessary vigor and was about to turn down the pan when the phone rang.

  I swear I almost broke the speed of sound launching myself from the kitchen to the sitting room. I grabbed the phone, finger trembling with urgency, and pressed the knob.

  “Hi?” I said fitfully.

  “Hi!”

  I felt my heart visit my boot tops. It was Claudia. One of my clients. Not Macy. Damn.

  “Hi, Claudia,” I said. “How’s things?”

  I always felt a little awkward around Claudia. She was a very effusive person. Quite clingy too. I sometimes worried that her husband would think we were up to things—when we came back she often insisted on rubbing my shoulders or hanging onto my arm. But as far as I could tell there was no interest from her side. There wasn’t from mine. I liked her, but that was it. All the same, she made me feel a bit uneasy.

  “Things are great!” she said enthusiastically in reply to my query. “But I’m sorry to say I’m going to have to miss our session tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh?” I frowned. “That’s okay. Do you want to catch it up sometime this week?”

  She paused. “Can we wait and see?” she said after a moment. “I don’t know my schedule yet and…well, I’ll tell you more when I call. That okay?”

  “Sure,” I said affably. “I’ll see you whenever you can.”

  “Great!” she effused. “Thanks. Bye-bye.”

  “Bye.”

  I put the phone down and went wearily through to the kitchen. The bottom part of the vegetables in the pan was burned, but that was a minor thing compared to the disappointment that had settled on me when I found it wasn’t Macy who’d called.

  I chuckled to myself, remedying my burned supper as I thought about my reaction.

  I fell for her in a big way. My friend’s right. Trouble is, he’s probably right about the rest too.

  I didn’t want to think about that. In my heart, that had always been my concern. I recalled what my mom had said.

  I had told her about Macy one night—when I was first having second thoughts, before the whole dinner-party incident even happened.

  She’d said—and I knew she had the background to speak as an authority on this—that cross-status relationships were probably a bad thing.

  “It wouldn’t be fair, Maddox,” she’d said gently. “Imagine. She’s from a different world. Not the same one you’re used to. She has needs you can’t even imagine. How would you deal with that?”

  I had frowned, thinking about it. It’s a big question for anyone, especially an eighteen-year-old who is wildly in love for the very first time ever.

  “I dunno,” I’d said. “I guess I could just, you know, ask her if she’s happy. I guess.”

  Mom had laughed. She had a sweet, sorrowful face, as if life had given her a bad deal but she wasn’t going to let on. She’d squeezed my hand fondly. “Baby, you’re naïve if you think that would work,” she’d said sadly. “Why would she tell you, even if something was bothering her? There’s a lot you don’t understand about life.”

  I hadn’t known what to say. What could I say? All I could do was believe her.

  She and my dad had a lot of difficulties themselves, I knew that. She tried to accept the lifestyle Dad could offer and he always felt inadequate, even though she never actually said a word about it.

  I can’t do to Macy what Dad did to Mom.

  I wasn’t going to go there. That thought still preyed on my mind, eating away at me. If I was honest with myself, I had finally chosen to turn my back because of her comments. And they still preyed on me.

  It will never not be true. I will always be different than Macy. From another world.

  There was really nothing else to think about, after that. If I thought about anything permanent with her, it would be cruel. I would be imposing that bad deal on her that my dad had given my mom.

  I settled down at the table with my burned stir-fry and ate, thinking about Claudia and the training session instead.

  If she needs an extra one we could catch up Saturday morning…not that I want to add an extra job in then. But I could do with the money. Claudia, an athlete, paid well for the training. I liked her, too, even though she was a bit demanding and her habit of making her own schedule at the last minute and informing me a few hours previous was wearing.

  “Well, I do have a free morning.”

/>   It seemed like I’d be at a loose end for it too. I finished supper and headed off to train for a bit—my weights were next to the bed and I grunted, hefting one. It wasn’t a room I could bring a girl into, really, I thought wryly. With my equipment bedecking the place, the faded carpet on the floor, and the one veneered-chipboard wardrobe that was entirely packed with my clothes and sports bags and extra gear, it was a guy’s room.

  I should tidy up.

  I set the weight down and reached for another, groaning as I strained against it, biceps bulging and aching as I held it up over my head. I let it down again after a few moments with an explosive sigh.

  In my head, thoughts of Macy intruded—her exotic perfume, the feel of her soft skin, the aching wonder of pushing my tongue in her mouth.

  Stop it.

  I finished with the weights, then looked around the room and tidied up. I couldn’t get anything more in the cupboard, I soon concluded, unless I started throwing stuff away. I was making an inventory of old, dilapidated track shoes when my phone made a noise.

  This time, I finished the job doggedly before I even thought about answering. Probably just a notification from my landlord, I decided gloomily. I wasn’t going to get excited.

  I fetched a shopping bag and dumped three pairs of trainers into it for donating to charity.

  Then I answered my phone.

  Coffee sounds great. Tomorrow morning work for you? Macy.

  I stared at the message. My heart was thumping in my chest. Macy. She replied. She wants to go for coffee, tomorrow. With me. I felt like the clouds around my heart had evaporated and the sun had broken through, lighting everything to happiness.

  Sure, I replied fast. Maybe eight o’ clock? At the Lifestyle Cafe?

  That cafe was near the gym where I worked, across from the park. It was easy for me to get to work afterward. I hoped it would suit her too. Immediately after I’d sent the message, I started second-guessing myself. Maybe I should have chosen somewhere she liked. What would she think of the place, anyway? It was pretty basic compared to the kind of places she usually favored. What was I thinking?

  A few minutes later, as I tidied my room, trying to find an outlet for my nervous energies, the message noise went off again.

  Sure. See you then. Looking forward.

  I honestly thought that my heart would actually melt.

  I put the two bags of unwanted clothes and equipment in the hallway, put my phone on the table and punched the air.

  “Yes!”

  I collapsed on the bed, relief flowing through me. I felt so, so happy.

  Then, feeling revived and excited for tomorrow, I decided to finish the cleaning and maybe go through my sock drawers as well. If a thing was worth doing, it was worth doing properly, wasn’t it?

  I chuckled.

  It was the day after Valentine’s, and my life was looking so much rosier.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Macy

  I let the navigation system talk me through the crowded early-morning streets toward where Maddox wanted to meet up. The busy sidewalk slipped past me, everything fogged out by the wondrous haze of happiness that filled my stomach.

  He really wants to see me. He wants to get back together. It’s incredible.

  Of all the things I might have hoped for in my relationships, meeting Maddox again was one so big and so wonderful I wouldn’t even have written it down as a wish. Now it was here.

  I sighed to myself, feeling my heart expand with joy.

  The streets were becoming more crowded as I headed toward the location, the sidewalks sporting shopkeepers brushing their steps, joggers in bright, colorful singlets and shoppers heading out for the paper or breakfast or coffee.

  “The destination will be on your right.”

  “Oh.” I looked through the right window at the stoplight. The GPS was right, it seemed—there about five meters ahead was the Lifestyle Cafe.

  Right. Parking. I made myself focus on the requirements ahead. I wasn’t going to let myself get distracted by thoughts of Maddox, by my memories of that other night. By wondering what it was he was up to and what he was thinking right now.

  I spotted a sign for a parking lot and headed to it. My watch said ten past eight. I ran down the sidewalk to the cafe, my heart thudding in my chest.

  At the door of the small, white-tiled, crowded cafe, I looked about, searching for Maddox. I breathed in the scent of coffee and toast into lungs ragged from running. There! I spotted him at the front, where the place opened onto a small terrace, looking at his phone.

  “Hi!”

  He looked up at me and beamed. “Macy. Great seeing you again.”

  I swallowed hard, my body catching fire at the merest presence of him. I felt as if my skin had suddenly grown thin, every tiny shade of him hitting me like volts of electricity, straight to my nerve.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I commented, drawing back my seat and sitting down. “Had some traffic problems.”

  “Not at all,” he said with that warm, easygoing grin. “No worries. It’s my fault for picking this time.”

  “No, it isn’t,” I said insistently, shaking my head. “It’s the right time for both of us.”

  He smiled at me fondly. “Good.”

  I blushed. I wanted to say something, but looking into his eyes, my mind was suddenly blank. “A sunny day,” I commented, looking out of the window behind him.

  “Yeah,” he commented. Under the table his foot brushed mine. I stiffened and breathed sharply out. I moved my foot a little. Our legs touched. His knee pressed mine. My body stiffened.

  His eyes caught mine and I knew what he was thinking. It was exactly what I was thinking too: why don’t we just call in sick and go home together?

  I smiled at him. “You have plans for today?” I asked conversationally. The waiter appeared, and I took a cappuccino. He took a macchiato.

  “I do,” he commented, stretching expansively. “For work too,” he added with a naughty grin.

  “Mister Jefferson,” I said teasingly. “You are a disgrace.”

  He laughed. It was a big laugh, warm and open. It made me grin, too, a pulse jumping in my chest that told me I was wildly excited about him.

  “I am,” he admitted. “In answer, I have a guard session at the mall today from lunchtime to eight. And in the evening a session outside the club from nine to midnight.”

  At that minute, his phone buzzed.

  “Excuse me,” he said and brought it out. His brows raised as he read it and then he replied, typing hastily away, a small frown on his face.

  I sat and waited. “So you’re working tomorrow, too, yes?” I asked.

  His phone went again and he looked up, embarrassed. Then he answered again. I frowned. What was it that was so urgent? I decided to just ignore it, even though my suspicious mind was on full alert by now.

  “Um, no…” he said, setting it aside. “Sorry, Macy. What’d you say?”

  “I asked if you were working tomorrow?” I said levelly.

  He paused. “Tomorrow, I…”

  Just then, a woman appeared. She had been walking up the sidewalk, a bright pink shirt over midcalf slacks, a big tote bag over her shoulder. She had ragged-cut blond hair and a big, friendly smile, big white teardrop earrings that matched the pants.

  “Maddox! There you are! Hi!”

  Maddox turned around and saw her. She put a hand on his shoulder. “Hi, Claudia,” he said. He sounded a little strained. I wondered why.

  “You didn’t say you’d be here!” she said in a big, effusive voice. “Great to see you! Can I join?”

  “Um…” Maddox indicated me with a movement of his eyes.

  “Oh! I see,” she said breezily. “Well, great to see you. I’ll be around. I’ll let you know later, huh?”

  “Um, okay,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Thanks.”

  “Sure thing,” she called back as she turned away. “Bye!”

  I saw the way she squeezed his s
houlder as she left, saw how at home he seemed to be with the contact, reaching up to touch her hand as she took it away.

  These two know each other well, I thought coolly.

  He was uncomfortable too. He clearly wanted to be somewhere else. Was he embarrassed because he’d been caught with me? And why would she call later?

  “Sorry about that,” he said in a small voice. “I train with her,” he explained.

  “Oh.”

  “You see…she’s a client,” he explained, face bright red. “She has to call about another, um, training session.” He shifted uncomfortably and looked at the menu. “You had breakfast?”

  “Yes, I already had breakfast,” I said carefully. Was that an attempt to shift my focus? If so, I was prepared to let it happen, just for now. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know. What sort of training session? I closed my eyes, willing myself not to be overly suspicious.

  “Oh. Well, I wonder when the coffee’s coming up? Sorry…they’re slow in here. Ah!” he looked round fast as the waiter appeared, bearing a small wooden tray that contained our orders.

  “Oh, yes.” I noted distantly, seeing the waiter approach from across the room. “Well, then. Here we are.”