Reb winces. “Yeah. I suck at this. But my point is this: you’re afraid that someday he’s going to hurt you. But right now, you’re hurting him. So you need to fix it.”
“God, you’re right,” I say, hating that it’s true.
Before I can lose my courage—again—I climb out of the car. A moment later, I’m ringing the doorbell.
The man who opens the door is a smartly dressed older man, with snowy white hair. I look from his neatly pressed suit to my rumpled potato sack of a dress and die a little inside. God, I am so underdressed for brunch with the McQuades.
Reb, who must have followed me out of the car, plants her hand in the center of my back and pushes me forward. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
I swallow and thrust my hand out. “Hi. I’m Meg. Meg Demeo. I'm a friend of Keegan’s. It’s good to meet you, Mr. McQuade.”
The man gives an odd look, his lips quirking up ever so slightly as he shakes my hand. “I’m Jefferson. Mr. McQuade’s house manager.”
“His what now?”
Reb leans closer and whispers. “It’s an old-fashioned valet or butler, but ... new fashioned.”
“I know what a house manager is,” I hiss back. Bluffing. I mean, I probably could have figured it out. I add more loudly, “I was surprised that he works on Sunday.”
The man clears his throat. “Would you like me to take you to Mr. McQuade?”
“Actually, if you could just take me to Keegan, that would be great.”
His lips twitch again, and this guy is definitely laughing at me. “That is, in fact, the Mr. McQuade I was offering to bring you to.”
“Oh.”
He stands back, gesturing for me to follow him. After closing the door behind me, he says, “Though all three Mr. McQuades are currently together, having brunch on the terrace.”
“Fantastic,” I mutter through clenched teeth.
“Along with Mrs. McQuade, Ms. Dubois-McQuade, Mr. Dubois, and Mr. Barajas.”
Beside me, Reb snorts. “What the King couldn’t make it?”
Jefferson ignores her, leading us both through the foyer, past an enormous floating staircase. Beneath the staircase, the foyer spills into a living room larger than most hotel lobbies. The far wall is floor to ceiling windows. Beyond those windows I can see the terrace, and beyond that, a lush green lawn that leads down to the water. On the terrace, there’s a long table, around which everyone, except the King, is seated.
My grand romantic gesture isn’t exactly playing out the way I had envisioned. I imagined Deborah Kerr and Cary Grant at the end ofAn Affair to Remember. I did not imagine the fanciest brunch west of the Hudson.
This might be the problem with hanging out and watching movies with an aging movie-star and trivia master. She likes the classics. If there are modern day romcoms that involve declarations of love via text, we haven’t watched them together.
My steps slow and for a moment, I’m tempted to turn and leave. To put this off until later. No one has seen me yet, other than Jefferson.
Yeah, I could play it safe. I could act cool, like my heart isn’t pounding out of my chest. But I don’t wanna do that.
In the immortal words of Billy Crystal, “when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start right now.”
Then, before I have a chance to question my resolve, Jefferson opens the doorway out onto the terrace and leads us out. Everyone on the terrace looks up, but I’m only looking at Keegan.
My heart pounds as I watch him realize I’m there and then slowly push back his chair and stand. Not just because he’s hot—after all, he’s always been hot. And not because last night he did unspeakably delicious things to my body—although that probably doesn’t help matters.
But because the next few minutes will change everything. All morning I’ve been wallowing in my own doubts. Yes, it’s my fault, because this morning, I chickened out.
The only way out is to talk to Keegan. To open my mouth and suck in a big breath of air. Either our relationship has grown lungs, and I’ll be able to breathe on land, or I’ll die.
Okay, there’s a slight chance this metaphor has gotten away from me.
My point is: it’s do or die time. I can’t just flop around on the shore anymore. I have to breathe.
