“I need you to forget this overprotective brotherly figure for one second and look at me with the eye of a man, and tell me if I look beautiful to you.”
Oh, I forgot that a long time ago. Take one look at my pants, and you’ll know.He took a sip of water, scratching his forehead, searching for the right words. He wasn’t just her best friend. He was a fucking brother to her.
“Seriously? Nothing?” She scoffed.
The waitress came with their drinks. Thank God. He grabbed the cold bottle quickly and took a swig.
“Well, I know I’m no Monica Bellucci, and you’re surrounded by actresses and models all the time, but I’m not ugly either. I’ve had men come in their pants when they saw me naked.”
He spit his beer over himself, breaking out into a wild cough.
“You all right?” She sipped on her cocktail.
One more word and I’m gonna come in my pants.“I’m fine. Didn’t need that image in my head, though.” He cleared his throat. “Cheryl, get me some vodka shots… No, a bottle.” He waited for the waitress to leave before he stared Maggie in the eye. “What is this? And what’s it got to do with Andrea?”
“Answer the question,” she challenged.
He leaned forward, eating her with his stare, his heart throbbing in his ears. “Fuck Monica Bellucci. You’re not just beautiful or sexy. You’re fucking…perfection.” His chest heaved as his thoughts spun in circles. “Happy?”
She pursed her lips. “Well, I’ve spent the first sixteen years of my life thinking I was ugly and dumb.”
“What? Why would you ever think that?”
“Because that’s what Andrea has been telling me all those years.”
He grimaced. “That’s insane. Anyone with eyes can tell you’re pretty. And dumb?! You’re a fucking architect. You skipped a year. At college.”
“It’s the truth.” She threw the straw away and downed her drink. “She filled my head with this shit for years. I never knew I was smart or beautiful until I heard my teachers’ compliments and saw how boys looked at me.”
The vodka bottle arrived. Mike poured Maggie a glass, and she emptied it in one gulp. The pain etched on her face tightened around his heart. He poured himself a glass, too.
“Why wasn’t she happy with her life?” she asked, her finger rubbing along the glass rim.
The vodka burned through his throat. “What?”
“When she came to you with that proposal, why wasn’t Andrea happy with her life?”
“She sucked at law school. Never passed the bar.”
She slid her glass his way, motioning for more vodka.
“Easy,” I said. “We’re supposed to have dinner, not get wasted.”
“Then you shouldn’t have ordered the bottle. Keep it coming.”
He ran a hand through his hair as he filled her glass. She tipped her head back, swallowing the entire shot without blinking. “Who do you think she blamed for not passing?”
He shook his head in disbelief. “Maggie, that was never your fault. She hated law school right from the start.”
“Not according to Andrea.” A cynical smile crossed her mouth. “She failed because she had me when she was eighteen. She never had the time to study; she had to take care of me.” She chortled a humorless sound. “Remind me again when she’s ever had to take care of me? As far as I can remember, Loretta took care of me, not Andrea.”
Gritting his teeth, he rocked his leg. Andrea was selfish and spoiled, but what kind of mother would do that to her only child? Fuck with her head like that?
Her eyes stared at him, lazy yet dark. “She never wanted me, Mike.”
“No.” I shook my head firmly. “That’s not true.”
“She never wanted Dad either and blamed me for that marriage, too. Like it was my fault she got knocked up at seventeen.”
