A tinge of revulsion ebbed up his spine. “She married Nick because she loved him, not because she got knocked up. They had their differences later, but…” He winced at the memory of a fourteen-year-old conversation with Andrea when she’d told him how much she loved her daughter. How she’d sacrifice anything for her. She’d said she’d put Maggie’s interest before her needs because her daughter meant the world to her. “This can’t be true.”
“If you don’t believe me, I’ve recorded one of her ‘my life would have been better if you hadn’t been born’ speeches. I’ll be more than happy to lend it to you.”
“What?”
“I know it’s weird to do something like that, but I had to do it so Dad would believe me.”
His stomach felt like ice. Maggie couldn’t be lying. Not about this. No one would lie about this.
It was Andrea who had been lying to him for years.
Her daughter wasn’t her only victim. That serpent of a woman had fucked with his head, too. And not only about how much she loved her family.
How many lies had she told him? How many others had she pulled into her trap?
“Dad has been overcompensating ever since, which makes me come off as a spoiled brat, but who cares?” she added. “At least, it got her off my back for a while.”
“You’re not a spoiled brat.” He didn’t know what else to say.
“It doesn’t bother me. I prefer this image to the truth.” Her eyes glistened. “I hate how Dad handles it, though. I don’t need him to spoil me. I just need him to be there for me. To stand up for me.”
He couldn’t help seeing himself in the same position as Nick. His best friend had been abused her whole life, and he’d stood by, blind that it was happening at all.
“I didn’t know.” He took her hand between his palms and lifted it to his lips, kissing it, willing her to understand how he felt at that moment, how he wanted to hold her, protect her, comfort her, kiss her pain away.
“It’s not something I tell just about anyone,” she said. “Do you know what the worst part is?” Her breath caught, tears clouding her eyes.
“Maggie,” he groaned, a lump blocking his throat. “I can’t stand seeing your tears. Please…”
She continued as if she didn’t hear him. “The worst part is that I don’t hate her, and I just wish with all my heart she’d love me.” Tears broke free from her eyes, staining her cheeks. “How hard could that be?”
He rested his chin on her head, his hands rubbing her arms. A sigh shivered on his lips when he felt her tears on his neck. “You don’t need someone like her to feel loved. You are loved, Maggie.”
I love you. If you only knew how much I love you.
His mouth dropped to her face, planting little kisses on her cheeks, his head spinning from the vodka and her fragrance. His lips slid to her neck, and he kissed her there, his hands low on her back.
This was wrong. Inappropriate. WRONG.
Yet his mouth glided up and his eyes dipped to her red lips.
Draw back.
He blinked.
Draw the fuck back.
He was only moving forward.
“Fuck,” she whimpered, her head up in one abrupt move, her arms stiff ending in fists at her sides.
His heart ceased to beat.
“I promised myself I wouldn’t let her get into my head ever again, but I fucking keep breaking that promise.” Her thumbs ran under her eyes. “I’m sorry. I know I’m embarrassing you right now. I forgot we were in public.”
He tilted his head, letting out his breath. She didn’t notice he was about to break all the rules and kiss her—again. Part of him was relieved, but the majority of him was enraged. How could she be that oblivious? Had the thought of him being anything else but her best friend never crossed her mind? Or had that motherfucking broker dug his claws so deep in her she couldn’t see anyone else? “You really think I care about that? Fuck everything. All I care about is you. You have no idea how much I l…” He pressed his fist to his mouth.
“What? How much you what?”
