I exhale. Easy. Being with Windsor is easy. I think any other woman wouldn’t forgive this easily. But then again, if they aren’t Windsor, I don’t need or want their forgiveness in the first place.
We eat dinner in a sexually charged atmosphere, eyes fucking when our bodies can’t. I can taste it in the air. The need to be close to her in any capacity is stronger than anything else. The conversation is light and flows effortlessly. When you have months and months to catch up on, I guess that happens.
She’s also relentlessly curious about my time spent with her mother. There really isn’t much to say about that. I wanted to get to know the woman who raised Windsor. They are polar opposites, something I’m sure Windsor is grateful for. I know I am. Behind every single insult Kathy slings her way, behind it all, is undying love. It’s just her weird, fucked up way of showing it. Knowing that fact comforts me. It gives me hope for my own parents. I called them and we talked. It was minimal and just the basics, but the lines of communication are open. If I was going to take Stone’s advice about Windsor, I want to take all of his advice. Sober Maverick is going to attempt to fix everything.
Her eyes are downcast as she whispers. “I’m glad you feel better, but you can’t be magically cured, Mav. I saw what drinking made you do. Even if I didn’t see it, Morganna gave me first hand accounts of the situations she dealt with. You know, when you didn’t want me in your life. My love for you isn’t some magic pill. I saw exactly how intoxicating being intoxicated was for Kathy. Is it the same for you? Should you get more help?”
Heavy words—heavy, but so true. I don’t feel like drinking right now. When I have to go home to my empty house tonight, I’m not so sure what I’ll feel like. I know I can control myself. The problem is wanting to. What happens when I can’t fall asleep because I can’t stop the memories? “It’s a work in progress, Win. You give me a reason to stay sober. When Stone died, a lot of fucked up shit crossed my mind. Drinking got it off my mind. I told you I have addiction problems. I need you to trust me. I can do this. We can do this. Tell me I can’t and watch what happens,” I say, smiling big and wide. Windsor laughs, exposing her perfect white teeth.
She stands, sauntering over to sit directly in my lap, her legs dangling off the side. I groan and laugh at the same time. It’s so unexpected and so right at the same fucking time. Wrapping her arms around my neck, I feel her answer. She says it anyway. “I trust you. I just don’t want to be the reason you quit. I want you to want it for yourself. If I were to drop off the face of the planet tomorrow, I’d want to drop knowing you’d be okay.” She kisses my cheek. She kisses my ear. She runs her fingernails through my hair.
“I’m okay now. I know that I’m okay now,” I whisper, closing my eyes, feeling her on me and around me. It’s not a lie. I’ll be okay if I always have this. Windsor’s steely blue gaze is trained on me when I open my eyes.
“This plan?” Windsor asks, narrowing her eyes and biting her bottom lip. Fuck. “Does making out on the new couch come next?”
No. “Yes,” comes out instead. She squeals as I pick her up, cradling her in my arms. “The plan is whatever makes you happy,” I admit, pulling her down on me, sinking deep into the sofa. I want to know she’s mine before I take her again. This time I’m going to do what I should have done the first time. The thing is, there is no way I’m telling her no…maybe not ever again. Our legs are entwined and I feel every body part that touches hers. She props herself on her elbows and looks down at me, her brown hair spilling over her shoulders. My heart starts pounding the second it recognizes the look in her blue eyes. There’s no guessing about it. I know what she’s thinking.
“I love you,” I say, beating her to the punch.
A half-smirk inches its way across her beautiful mouth. Eyes smiling she says, “Blow me, Maverick.”
She cuts off my laugh with a kiss, her hands sliding under my shirt, lifting it as she goes. I pull it over my head and toss it to the floor. She sits up, straddling my hips, her knee-length skirt rising to accommodate. My eyes are immediately drawn down.
“Whenever I couldn’t sleep, when I was upset after you left, I would think about this,” she whispers, laying a hand over her tattoo over my heart. “And the day at your house when I went to see you…” She swallows. I move my hands to rest on her hips. “I saw the tattoo and I knew that if I ever meant as much to you as you said, then we’d find a way to each other. Then Nash came along, a changed freaking man. I hoped that if you ever came back to me, I’d be able to forgive you…and that I’d be the same person you remembered.”
At the mention of Nash, my hands tighten on her hips possessively. I blow out a breath through my mouth. I sense she isn’t finished so I remain quiet as she drags a finger over my chest.
“One word,” Windsor says, finally glancing back up to my face.
I don’t lie. “Nash.”
She sighs, placing her hands on top of mine. “I forgave him for the altar dash. I felt a little bad because the bimbo left him. I know that sounds crazy because of what he did to me, but there it is. He needed my forgiveness and part of my messed up mind wanted to give it to him. It’s a clean break, Maverick. We were just friends getting to know each other again,” she explains. She tells me how much he’s changed and all the things he’s said and done for her when I was busy in drunk mode. It makes me feel a little bitter.
It also makes me feel a little sick that he was there for her when I wasn’t…because I chose not to be. If he honestly changed as much as she thinks, wouldn’t he be the better choice for her? My ego won’t let me believe it, so I push the thought away. I’m the man for Windsor. Kathy even said I was good for her. She told me how Nash was just a placeholder until the great love of her life showed up. She told me I was it. I’m not sure how she surmised as much, but I’m glad she said it.
“I was never supposed to be more than friends with John Nash. I told him so.”
Relief courses through me. Though that had to be a hard conclusion to come to, after all those years spent pouring herself into something that never happened.
She puts a finger over my lips. “Before you say anything else, I need to know why you need my clothing sizes. Morganna told me,” she says, cocking her head in question.
Morg, the blabbering bitch is going to ruin everything. I shrug. She didn’t give away any pertinent details. That I know of, at least. “We’re going on a long weekend,” I say nonchalantly. I say it like she doesn’t have an option either. If she doesn’t agree, my plan will go up in flames. I need for her to see me prove myself to her. Her brows wrinkle in confusion. It’s so cute. I smile.
She shakes her head. “I can’t just take off work.”
“You can. I already requested it off for you when I went to talk to Hannah.”
“Of course you did. Anything else you did for me? Where are we going?” I notice she doesn’t ask hypothetically. We’re going. We’re fucking going. I pull her close to me for a kiss just because I feel like I might explode from happiness if I don’t use her as an outlet. It’s the first moment in a long time that the grief doesn’t rear and funny enough…it makes me feel guilty. I slam my eyes shut and kiss her harder.
She bites my lip as she pulls away. “Your boss was pretty amenable about the whole situation after I explained…and after I told her that you’ll be managing all my accounts when you get back, she couldn’t argue. Expensive time off, Win. Better get ready to have some fun. Plus, I have seven long weekend cards to use if I remember correctly.” That was my plan if she shot me down all night. I was going to argue that she had to honor at least one of them. I was going to tell her that if she wanted, if it was what she wanted after I’d laid it all out on the line, it could be the very last time she saw me. Luckily, she’s going to go along without kicking and screaming.
“You’re so crafty. And manipulating. Trying to buy my love again, I see?”
“The first time I was trying to buy a date. Now I’m trying to buy your love,” I admit, smiling. “Want to see the clothes I chose?” She hops off me and pulls me to stand. She swats my hand when I reach for my shirt.
Trailing a finger down the center of my chest down to the button on my jeans she whispers, “No shirts. You want my love…no shirts.”
“You have a shirt on,” I fire back, raising one brow. Windsor unbuttons her shirt unmercifully slowly, taking her sweet time sliding it over one shoulder and then the other. When it’s all the way off and her black bra is all I can see, she throws her shirt in my face. Pissed she covered my view, I throw the shirt to the ground.
