Blair and Daniel stepped out of Gray Eyes at that moment. “I’m not,” was all Mags said before walking away, leaving him to drown in regrets.
forty-three
JONATHAN
Jonathan had cometo understand that his anger over Mags’ connection with Rory came from a far less comfortable place than he’d first assumed.
It wasn’t about trusting her—he did. Completely. Mags had never been careless with people’s feelings, never disloyal, never anything less than steady and sure in who she was.
It had everything to do with him. He felt inadequate. He had been disloyal to Mags for years. Jonathan couldn’t believe she wouldn’t regret giving him a chance because the truth was, he didn’t deserve it.
His bad behavior stemmed from fear.
After sitting up all night in the quiet of his living room, contemplating his shit behavior, reliving a montage of his worst moments, he had come to a conclusion. He wouldn’t let last night dictate their future. He would apologize, grovel, whatever it would take.
With that in mind, he walked to his bedroom, stripped last night’s clothes from his body, showered, and dressed as quickly as possible, and drove to Eze’s flat.
Jol, the housekeeper, answered the early morning bell. He might have felt bad about the hour, but he knew from staying over that Eze was an early riser.
Mags, on the other hand, would have her head burrowed under a mound of pillows to keep even a hint of light from penetrating her lids.
Jol allowed him to come in, giving him a brief frown when she left him in the kitchen while she went to get the man of the house.
As expected, Eze was dressed and carrying a briefcase, clearly about to leave for the university, with Nasir walking several paces behind his employer before quietly taking up space against a wall where he could face Jonathan.
It looked like Jol wasn’t the only person in the household annoyed with Jonathan, if Nasir’s scowl was any indication. Undoubtedly, Mags had thoroughly won over the Nigerian security guard.
“What brings you, Jonathan?” Eze asked.
Jonathan took a fortifying breath before answering. “I would like to speak to Mags.”
Eze’s expression didn’t change, only raising one brow in question as he accepted a cup of tea from Jol.
He forced himself to continue even though Eze was not happy. “Mags and I had a bit of a misunderstanding last night, and I would like to rectify that.”
“You and Margaret are both quite articulate in expressing yourselves. A misunderstanding?” Eze’s deep voice held a hint of disbelief.
Nosey asshole.
“I fucked up and want to apologize,” Jonathan growled back.
“I see. She’s in her room. Abeo will drive me this morning. Nasir will wait to take Margaret to work.” With that, Mags’ friend set his tea down and left.
Without hesitation, Jonathan headed to Mags’ room. Before he could round the corner to the hallway where the bedrooms lay, Nasir said in his stiff, condescending way, “Miss Morrow’s eyes were red-rimmed last night.”
Jonathan barely kept himself from flinching. Eze’s and Nasir’s disapproval made his nerves jangling worse than ever, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t turning around. He wasn’t backing down.
His father had fought for his mother. Jonathan would do the same for Mags.
He didn’t bother knocking. He knew she’d still be asleep—and if he was being honest, there was a good chance she wouldn’t let him in if he gave her the choice.
Still, the moment he stepped inside and saw her, something in his chest eased.
Mags was curled into the bed like it was a nest, tangled in no fewer than ten pillows, with two fluffy ones framing her head like bookends. Her hair was a complete mess, strands sticking out in every direction.
A smile broke through his nerves before he could stop it.
God, he loved her.
