Deserve

by C. C. Snow

  Detecting the disdain in his voice, I ask, “You don’t believe in love at first sight?”

  He shakes his head. “No, I don’t. Attraction at first sight. Yes. Lust at first sight. Definitely. Love. Hardly.”

  I’m aghast at his cynicism. “But you do believe a man and woman can be in love with each other?”

  The sound that comes out of his mouth is patently skeptical.

  “What about Romeo and Juliet? Cleopatra and Marc Antony? Elisabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy?”

  One corner of his lips curls up in a sneer. “Fiction.”

  I try to remember a real life couple and snap my fingers triumphantly. “King Edward and Wallis Simpson.”

  “He wanted an excuse to abdicate the throne. He was miserable as king from all accounts.”

  I frown. “How about everyday couples who fall in love? Like your parents!” At the mention of his parents, his lips thin, making me wonder about the marriage.

  “Most people mistaken lust for love. Once that wears off, there’s nothing left.”

  Appalled by his jaded remarks, I want to cry for him. It must be sad to go through life looking at things in the worst possible light. I stop in my tracks and Sean yanks me out of the way of a couple of runners.

  “You honestly don’t know anybody who’s in love?” I ask.

  “Well, maybe my partner and his wife,” he grudgingly admits. “Marc and Laurel seem to make goo-goo eyes at each other all the time and they’ve been together for years.”

  “See, there you go!” I point out in relief. I don’t dare examine why it’s important for him to believe in love. “I take it you’ve never been in love?”

  “Nope.”

  “Don’t you want to fall in love?”

  “Hell no! Why would I want to give someone that kind of power over me?”

  I frown at his asinine remark. “It’s not a power exchange, you know. You make it sound like one of those bondage scenes.”

  “And what would you know about BDSM, young lady?” he teases, pretending to be shocked. “Cael has not been screening your books and movies properly.”

  I stick my nose in the air and sniff, refusing to let him steer me off topic. “Love is not about power. It is about trust. It’s about giving without wanting to receive. It’s about wanting to be a better person for your partner.”

  “You sound like an expert on the subject. Have you ever been in love?”

  I fight to keep my expression neutral. “Once.” My stomach cramps at the thought that I still might be. Don’t think about it, Maggie.

  His gaze sharpens. “And?”

  “And he wasn’t interested,” I say matter-of-factly, glad my voice is steady.

  “I’m sorry, Mags.”

  “It’s alright. Better to have loved and lost and all that,” I wave my hand breezily, not liking the look of pity on his face.

  “For what it’s worth, the guy must be an idiot.”

  My mouth quirks in dark amusement. If he only knew he was talking about himself. “That he is.”

  “I take it you’re one of those people who believes in Happily Ever After?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” From his expression, I already know what he’s thinking. “Because of my parents?”

  He nods and I shrug philosophically. “It didn’t work out for them, but it doesn’t mean it won’t work out for me.” My mom never talked much about the sperm donor, but I always suspected she remained in a bad relationship for the sake of her kids. What I learned from her was to never stay with anyone unless there was love on both sides. “Everyone keeps saying fifty percent of marriages end in divorce, but nobody says fifty percent of marriages are successful. Seems like the odds are even to me.”

  Looking dumbstruck, he comes to a halt and grins at me. The look on his face makes my heart go pitter-patter. “Don’t ever change, Freckles.”

  Bewildered, but pleased, I say, “I don’t know what I’m not supposed to change, but okay.”

  He kisses me on my forehead. It’s meant as an affectionate gesture, but my pulse accelerates at the touch of his firm lips. “Don’t stop being you.”

  “Since I can’t be anyone else, I will have to stick with being plain ol’ Maggie Jackson.”

  Tapping a finger on my nose, he says softly, “There is nothing plain about you, Maggie Jackson.”

  A blush steals over my cheeks at his look of approval. He stares at me for a long moment, but finally looks away jerkily—almost like he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

  We walk in silence for a few minutes, but curiosity about his childhood is eating at me. Finally I gather the courage to ask, “She died when you were fifteen, right? Your mom?”

  I can tell he doesn’t like the direction of the conversation, but he answers readily, “Yes. She was in a car accident.”

  “What happened?”

  “A truck drifted over the median and hit her head on.”

  “God! I’m so sorry, Sean.” I clasp his hand, trying to offer a little human comfort.

  He squeezes my fingers. “Thanks. It took a long time for it to sink in that she was gone.”

  I think about my mom’s more drawn-out illness. It was horrible in its own way, but at least Cael and I got to say goodbye to her. “I can’t imagine what you and your dad went through.”

  His lip curls up in distaste. “Don’t feel sorry for my father. He found plenty of ways to console himself.”

  Wondering at the bitter undercurrent in his voice, I glance at him inquiringly, but his face is closed off, his smile fake. I hate that he feels the need to put on a mask in front of me.

  “Let’s not talk about something so depressing on a beautiful day.” He forces a cheerful note into his voice, but I can sense his sorrow. “Tell me about your plans. What do you want to do after you finish school?”

  Pasting a smile on my face, I say, “Well, after I graduate, I still have my residency.”

  “Have you thought about where you want to be?”

  “I have four years of school to complete before I have to make a decision, but I’d like to be in a big city. If not in New York, then maybe in Los Angeles or maybe even back in Chicago.”

  “Well, I hope you end up staying in New York.”

  There goes my stupid heart again. Pitter-patter. “Thanks. So do I.”

  Chapter Seven

  Sean

  What the fuck are you doing, Rowan?

  I wish I fucking knew because my emotions are going AWOL in a way I’ve never experienced before. As soon as I saw Maggie flirting with the frat boy, I wanted to put my fist into his smooth, pretty face. I can’t blame the kid for wanting her. She looks too damn adorable, green eyes blazing with fire and cheeks flushing a rosy pink.

  And sexy. How the fuck can someone be cute and sexy at the same time?

  My eyes flit down to her and I bite back a curse. The lust I felt last week was not an aberration. There’s nothing about her outfit that is provocative, but her compact body is too damn tempting. I felt every curve and hollow when she hugged me earlier and my instinct had been to grab on and never let go.

  Her round breasts and tiny waist are perfectly outlined by her thin blue tank. Her tan pants should look boring and conservative, but the way her shapely backside stretches the material makes me want to take each cheek between my teeth to test the firmness of her flesh. Lick. Then kiss. Then nip again.

  I forcibly shake off the lascivious image before I embarrass myself in public.

  You’re such a perv for lusting after your friend’s sister!

  I remind myself that she’s looking for true love and Happily Ever After. Even if I believed those things existed, I had long concluded that they would never be in the cards for me. I had done too much shit to deserve love and happiness.

  The last person I should touch is Maggie, with her eyes shining with hope and idealism. The only things I know how to offer women are light-hearted companionship and hot sex. Maggie screams long-term commitment.<
br />
  Recalling her confession about having been in love, I frown. Who was it? I remember Cael telling me she was dating someone in college, but he moved to another state. Was she still in love with her ex? And why does it bother me so much?

  It doesn’t matter. She’s not for you, asshole. I glance at her delicate face and regret stirs in my gut.

  No, Maggie deserves someone like Cory Michaels—someone who still has a bright future ahead of him. I clench my jaw, forcibly strangling the denial forming in my throat.

  In the meantime, I plan to bask in her light for as long as possible. She reminds me that there is still goodness and decency in the world. Just talking to her makes some of the darkness in my soul shrink back.

  Her face brightens and she looks at me with her eyes dancing. In the sunlight they are the color of fresh spring leaves. “I think I hear kids laughing. We must be close!”

  It’s impossible to contain my smile in the face of her excitement. I look around to assess our surroundings. “Yes, it should be right around the bend.”

  “Come on. Let’s hurry.” She takes my hand and lengthens her strides.

  “Maggie, they’re bronze statues. They can’t run away from you.” I fight to not crush her fingers in my hand. The feel of her soft hand does something funny to my chest.

  Her laugh is high and musical, making a few passersby smile along with her. “That’s true, but let’s hurry anyway.”

  “Why do you like those statues anyway?”

  She tilts her head in contemplation. “It’s not the sculptures. I like watching the kids. Ever notice the look of wonder they have in their eyes when they encounter the Mad Hatter? It’s magic,” she sighs.

  No, you’re magic, I want to say.

  “Come on, let’s go.” She speeds toward the loud shrieks of children.

  Laughing, I let her drag me along.

  ***

  “What do you think? Ready to concede that we have the best pizza?”

  She smacks her lips, drawing my eyes to the perfect bow of her mouth, and picks up her third slice. Her green eyes twinkle with mirth, but her voice is carefully dispassionate. “It’s alright.”

  “Why, you little…” I can’t think of a fitting insult. I snatch her slice out of her hands and take a big bite.

  “Hey!” She has the cutest pout on her face and I want to lean over and kiss her pursed lips.

  Stop it!

  I force my eyes to move away from her mouth before I do something I’ll regret. “I’m only saving you from having to eat ‘alright’ food.”

  Smiling, she picks up the last slice and guards it jealously. “I’m eating it because I hate to waste food. It goes against my upbringing.” She sinks her small white teeth into the pizza and closes her eyes. It’s obvious she’s enjoying it, but the little shit won’t concede anything.

  “You’re such a brat.”

  Some of the humor leaves her face. It’s not overt, but the sparkle has dimmed in her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She shrugs and puts her unfinished pizza on her plate. “Nothing. Cael calls me brat all the time.”

  “Does it bother you? I’m only teasing.”

  “It’s fine.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes and I make a mental note to stop calling her that. After hearing Cael use the term all these years, I adopted it as a matter of course, but the look on Maggie’s face is almost…pained.

  Changing the subject, I say, “If you’re free tomorrow, we can take the train to Brooklyn.”

  “You don’t have to spend all your time entertaining me,” she protests.

  “Tired of me already?” I tease, feeling the muscles tense in my neck. I don’t want to analyze my need to keep seeing her.

  “Of course not!” She looks at me shyly through her long lashes. “I’d love to spend tomorrow with you.”

  My shoulders relax and I smile. “I was thinking we can go to Smorgasburg,” I say.

  “Ooh…street food galore! Yes!” She wiggles excitedly in her chair, making me bite back a chuckle.

  “Great. I’ll swing by at ten thirty. By the way, the Senator wants to invite you to a party next month at their Tribeca apartment. It’s the third Friday. I told him you might be busy with school so don’t feel obligated to attend.”

  “Why do you call him that?” She tilts her head, looking puzzled.

  “Call him what?”

  “The Senator. Why don’t you call him Dad or Father?”

  “Habit, I guess. Everyone around me calls him that and it just stuck.” Liar. Liar. Not wanting her to examine my statement closely, I ask, “So, do you think you’ll want to go to the party?”

  She puts her elbows on the table and props her chin on her fists. “Am I expected to bring a date?”

  An image of her walking in with frat boy flashes across my mind and I grind my teeth. “I was hoping you’d go with me.”

  What the fuck are you doing, Rowan?

  Her smile returns, “Sure! That sounds like fun.”

  “Great! It’s a date.”

  Not a date! Not at date! I ignore the frantic voice. After all, it’s just a figure of speech.

  Chapter Eight

  Maggie

  “Ugh…I can’t believe Tormentstein is going to give us another test next week,” Todd Jorgsen complains, groaning dramatically as we walk out of our Clinical Medicine lecture.

  I nudge him with my elbow. “Come on, Todd. Morgenstein’s not so bad. He’s only making sure we absorb the material.”

  He makes a face of disgust and I laugh. Todd is one of the most beautiful men in our school, inheriting a blend of features from his Nigerian mother and Swedish father. The contrast of his icy blue eyes against his caramel-colored skin is mesmerizing and many a girl has lamented that he plays for the other team. Of course there are a few men who cheered, until they realized he was in a committed relationship with a civil rights attorney.

  “Maggie Jackson, you are the cutest nerd in the world,” Hannah says with a low chuckle as she comes up to my side. “You’re like that girl in the Harry Potter movies who loves to study and take tests.”

  I shrug, unoffended by the comment. There are worse things than being compared to Emma Watson. “I do like school. And both of you can stop pretending you don’t because you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t graduate at the top of your class.”

  School started three weeks ago and I love everything about it. The students are amazing and I already have a circle of friends. The professors are brilliant and their passion for teaching comes through clearly. I’ve never been happier about my decision to attend school in New York.

  And a certain detective being in the same city has nothing to do with it!

  “I got here on my looks,” Todd says, tossing his head back and striking a pose.

  Hannah and I both laugh and say at the same time, “We believe it!” One thing I love about Todd is his willingness to poke fun at the ridiculous way people react to his beauty.

  “Aww…that’s sweet of you.” Todd pretends to be blushingly flattered.

  “Hey, a little bird told me it’s someone’s birthday,” Hannah announces to Todd, jerking her head toward me.

  “Girl! Why didn’t you say so?” Todd exclaims. “We need to go out and celebrate!”

  Hannah claps her hands like a sugar-high toddler. “Yes! We’ll do dinner and then go to that hot new club in Greenwich afterwards.”

  “No, you guys don’t have to do that!” I protest, feeling a glow of pleasure at their thoughtfulness. I’ve been getting birthday wishes from my old friends all day and Cael sent me a present a few days ago, but I was starting to feel sorry for myself because I was going to spend the evening by my lonesome. And I haven’t heard from the person I most wanted to remember my birthday.

  Todd slings his arm around my shoulders. “You’re not going to spend your birthday poring over our biology tome. It’s time to get your party on, Hot Tamales.”

  I roll my eyes
at his nickname for me in honor of the bright red candy. It’s as unoriginal as all the other ones I’ve heard, but I’ve long given up on trying to stop people from making up names for me. They can’t seem to help themselves when it comes to redheads. And Todd prides himself on coming up with nicknames for everyone in his life.

  “Ohh! I’m so excited! I’m going to see if Cory and Cal can join us.” Hannah whips out her phone and starts to type furiously.

  “I’m going to invite Antonio.” He glances at me inquiringly. “Is that okay?”

  “Absolutely! I love hanging out with you guys.” It’s Hannah’s new guy, Calvin, who makes me uncomfortable. Every time he looks at me, I feel like I need to take a shower with lots and lots of soap. Since he’s done nothing overtly sleazy, I can’t say anything to Hannah, but I try to avoid being alone with him.

  After we make plans to meet at a little bistro near the club, Todd waves goodbye, heading back to the ultra-chic apartment he shares with his boyfriend on the Upper West Side. Hannah and I start to walk back to our dorm.

  “Let’s go this way.” She veers down a small street that leads to the back of our building. Hannah and I discovered this shortcut our first week of school. Most of the female students don’t like using this route since there’s not a lot of foot traffic, but it saves a few precious minutes when we’re trying to get to class on time.

  “Good idea. Josh is probably waiting for you at the front entrance again.” I shiver, thinking of those unblinking eyes.

  Hannah scowls. “Ugh. It’s a good thing he hasn’t tried to touch me or I’d kick his nutsac so hard, it’ll end up in his throat.”

  “You’ve got to feel sorry for the guy. He has no friends.”

  “For good reason! Every time he stares at me, I get goose bumps…and not the good kind either. Cal’s ready to beat the shit out of him.”

  At the mention of her boyfriend, I try to feel her out. “How are you and Cal doing?” Her huge smile says it all and I stifle a sigh.

  “Fantastic! And hot!” She gives a little shimmy of her shoulders. “He’s so edgy and…I don’t know…dark. I’ve always been into the bad boys and he’s definitely got that undercurrent of danger going for him.”