“And he hasn’t given up yet.” Becca joined her, downing the vodka. “Maybe he’s the guy you’ve been waiting for. The one who will fight for you.”
But what if he did? What if she let him win? They would sleep together, have a little fun, and when he realized the two of them didn’t make sense together—as he inevitably would—he would move on. She’d be left working for a man who no longer acted as if she existed, and she’d have a front row seat to all the society girls he paraded in front of her.
Maggie groaned. “You’re not helping matters. I’m supposed to listen to my head, not you, not my ovaries, and certainly not my heart.”
“If you ask me, you’ve done enough listening to your head. Maybe it’s time to try something new,” she argued, holding her hands up when Maggie scowled at her. “You could do worse than a rich CEO. That’s all I’m saying.”
“He doesn’t show any emotion. Like, ever.” She set the shot glass down. She refilled the glass and picked it up, glaring down at the ring it left on her counter. “I can never even begin to guess what he’s thinking. It’s infuriating.”
“So ask him.”
She snorted. “And when we break up—”
“You’re not even together yet.” Becca sighed and jumped off the counter. “You need to stop guessing how it’s going to end, and enjoy the ride.”
“Ugh. You sound like him.”
“Then he’s a smart man,” she said, picking up the new makeup she’d stopped at the store to get. She steered Maggie toward the bedroom, her hands on her shoulders as she propelled her forward. “Listen to us.”
“Like you listened to me when I told you Patrick was a bad idea?”
The other woman shrugged, not meeting Maggie’s eyes. “Yeah, he’s a bad idea. That’s why I picked him.”
“But—”
“Uh uh.” She pointed at Maggie. “This is my lecture, not yours. You have a rich hottie who wants to become your friend before getting in your pants, which is practically unheard of in the dating world nowadays, and you’re too busy worrying what other people will think of you to enjoy it.”
Well, when she said it like that…screw them. Screw everything. Maggie was gonna have some fun with Benjamin, and stop stressing so much.
Maybe it was the booze, or the pep talk, but Becca was right. She had spent her whole life not caring what people thought of her. Why should that change now? What was it about Benjamin, and his witch of a mother, that brought out the worst in her? Whatever it was, she was over it.
And she was done pushing Benjamin away, too.
Becca was right. It was time to take a leap of faith, for once in her life, and hope for the best. Maybe it was time to stop thinking so much, and start doing.
Turning, she hugged her best friend close. “I love you. What would I do without you here to tell me off?”
“I’m not sure.” Becca kissed the side of her head. “But lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out. You ready to kick some rich ass now?”
“Yep.” Grinning, she snapped her fingers. “Let’s do this. Make me a princess.”
Chapter Nine
Benjamin frowned at Maggie’s brownstone, his heart pounding harder than a racehorse’s hooves in the home stretch at the Kentucky Derby. He hadn’t been this nervous since… ever. He’d never been the anxious type, not even when he was younger. If shit needed to get done, he did it. If it was going to be a rough night, he grinned and bullshitted his way through it.
His mother had made it perfectly clear he was expected to bring someone proper to the party—and drop his “fiancée” like a hot potato—or he’d pay the price. He’d kindly told her to go to hell, and that he would bring Maggie to the party, and she would deal with it. But now that the moment was here, his palms were sweating, his heart was racing, and he felt as if he’d just finished running ten miles at the gym.
The second he brought Maggie into his world, she’d be subjected to all the petty snarkiness that was served in heaping portions at these events, alongside the champagne and caviar…which he probably should have thought about earlier, but he’d been too caught up in the plan.
Too caught up in her. In how she made him feel.
She had a hold on him that he couldn’t escape or deny, and he’d stopped trying a while ago. He wasn’t going to confess his undying love for her, or anything so dramatic as that. That was still a foreign emotion he wasn’t sure existed. But she was funny, kind, smart, and beautiful in every way. And the more time he spent with her, the more he became susceptible to those qualities. It was like she was slowly weaving a spell over him, dragging him further and further underwater until he ran out of breath and stopped fighting.
But she wanted to be friends, and he’d been cooling his heels for a week. He was starting to think he might need to be rescued via copter before he died in the damn friend zone she’d cursed him to. But he’d be fine. They would both be fine. If he said that enough times, he might actually believe it.