I shift to consider the other things I learned on our date. Every time I think I’ve figured out who Braxton Wheaton is, he adds another impressive layer. Talented carpenter with a rebellious glint in his eye—check. A man who cares about his neighbor enough to scoop dog poop off his lawn—check. A deeply wounded brother who’s still reeling from the loss in his own way—check again. And he chose to open up to me about it.
The chapters onCupid’s Catastropheexplain that trauma bonding can happen by not only experiencing a traumatic incident together, but also by vulnerably sharing past experiences you don’t often share. When there’s a common thread in those experiences, the bond is even greater.
With all these mounting affirmations, I can’t help but think that Cupid has finally struck atlast.
Braxton
Maggie and I find time to hang out the day after our date and the day after that, too. Once the weekend comes to an end, we hang out after work each night, snuggling in a cozy nook in the Coffee Loft one day and going to my place the next, where she meets Martin and Muffy over the fence. We spend time at her place, too; it’s bright, colorful, and it smells good—just like Maggie.
As the weekend approaches once more, I ask her to help me create a coffee bar for my parents’ master suite—an anniversary gift for the two of them. It’s something my mom has always wanted, and my father hoped to give her one day. Having Maggie’s help for the project makes me glad I put it off until now; she has more expertise in this area than anyone.
I consider that as I hover over the mock-up I sketched out at my dining room table. I grip the architect pencil close to the tip while kneading the putty eraser with the other hand. “I think that’s it,” I say, taking in our creation like a proud parent.
She reaches down to place a kiss on my cheek. “We make a good team. She’s going to love it. They both are.”
“I think you’re right.” I roll the eraser into a ball, press it against the tabletop, then sink the tip of the pencil into the mound so it stays upright. Once my hands are free, I stand and pull Maggie closer, pressing a kiss to her cheek before trailing my way to her tempting lips. “You really took this to the next level,” I tell her. “I pride myself on thinking outside of the box, but you’ve got a lot of fresh ideas.”
“Maybe you’re getting a little stale,” she teases.
“Oh, I’m not,” I say, poking a ticklish spot beneath her ribs.
Maggie squeals, dashing away from me and toward the kitchen. “Youmightbe,” she teases once more.
“Andyoumight be ticklish,” I say, catching up to her and poking her sides again.
She’s laughing too hard to form words.
“Look at you,” I say gleefully. “So ticklish.”
“I bet you are,too.” She reaches in and kneads both sides of my ribs at once, causing my muscles to spasm and tense, but at least I avoid giggling like a schoolgirl.
Still, as I squirm back, Maggie wriggles out of my grip and races for the couch.
“You’re like a rowdy child,” I accuse, which only makes her laugh some more.
Seconds after she lands on the couch, she points to the bottom shelf of my bookcase. “Braxton,” she breathes, “is that Guess Who?”
I nod and grin. “What kind of uncle would I be if I didn’t have a few games at my house? Why? Do you want to play?”
“Of course, I want to play,” she says eagerly. “It’s been ages.”
“Okay,” I say, liking how playful and fun she is. With Maggie, the surprises keep coming, and I like that. I imagine her becoming a significant part of my life. The home, the family, the future. Our relationship is chock-full of possibilities, and I can’t help but hope she’ll bethe one.
We sit on the floor opposite one another and set up our boards. With Valentine’s Day approaching, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask her. Something I hope she’ll say yes to.
“Hey,” I say before we start. “My parents have an anniversary party coming up soon. It’s a big one, forty-five, and I’d love it if you’d accompany me.”
Her eyes go wide for a beat, and then they narrow as if she’s contemplating.
A knot of uncomfortable heat forms high in my chest. I hope she doesn’t think I’m moving too quickly, but the fact is, I could see Maggie becoming a part of my life. I want that, and I don’t want to waste time or play games.
“I want to introduce you to everyone,” I add.
“You do?”
I nod. “Yes.
“Forty-five years, huh?”
