Cleaning up the makeup supplies on my bathroom counter, I place them back in their designated spots. And freeze.

My eyes slowly travel up to my reflection in the mirror as I'm hit with the realization. I'm going to far greater lengths to join a friend out at the bar on a Friday night than I've done for any of my random dates in recent months.

Swallowing hard while I stare at myself in the mirror, I'm faced with an undeniable fact. I've just gone to all this trouble to try to make myself as pretty as possible for a guy. But not just any guy. For my roommate. For my gay roommate. The one I'm- "Say it, Maggie. Just say it," I whisper the words to the mirror's reflection.

Like a total weirdo. But I don't care because facts are facts, regardless of whether you want them to be.

"I'm in love with Ry."

My whispered words seem to echo in my mind the entire walk to the elevator, as I travel down to the lobby, and as I walk the two blocks to The Parting Glass.

While part of me is relieved to voice it-even if it's only to myself-the other part of me is scared to death.

Because seriously. Of course, I'd be the one to fall in love with a freaking gay guy. It's just my luck.

And I have no clue what to do about it.

Chapter Forty-Six.

Ry I hate the way things ended today with Maggie. Which is why I made sure to leave a note. I just hope she sees it and decides to come out.

I shouldn't have hung up so abruptly, but I ... I'd gotten my damn feelings hurt like a little kid. And I should've known better. It was clear that Maggie had been having a rough day.

"So you're planning to tell her tonight?" Jack asks, eyeing me as he takes a swig of his beer.

Nodding, I blow out a long breath. My eyes drift over to the main entrance every so often, silently begging her to show. "I have to. I can't do this anymore."

He clinks the neck of his beer bottle against mine. "It's the right thing, man." He smirks. "Plus, you've been a terrible boyfriend. You never put out."

"You're hilarious."

My eyes flicker over to the doors once again, and it's at that moment that I feel my jaw slacken.

"Holy shit." Maggie looks ... Hell, I don't even know how to describe her. She looks so fucking gorgeous yet also like ... a wet dream come true.

"What?" Jack twists to see what's snagged my attention, quickly turning back around and letting out a slow whistle. "Is she meeting someone here tonight?"

Fuck. "I hope to hell not."

My hope increases when she stops at our table. "Hey, guys." She smiles down at Jack and me before her eyes fall back to rest on me. "Mind if I join you?"

Wordlessly, I step out of the booth we're sitting in to let her slide in. And that's when it happens.

She begins uncinching the wide belt at the waist of her black, knee-length coat, and the moment the lapels part, my breath stutters as I reach out to help her out of it. Because that sweater, the way the one side slips off her shoulder, baring creamy skin that begs me to touch it, kiss it, and lick it over and ov- Then I catch sight of her shoes. Fuck-me shoes. Sweet Jesus. The images flickering through my mind right now of her bare legs wrapped around me with only those heels on ...

She's trying to kill me. That's the only explanation.

Please, God. Let her not be here to meet another guy. Please.

Sliding in beside her, I look over to see her smiling up at me, her lips painted a deep, rich dark pink color, and I have to shift in my seat, adjusting myself.

"Well, I hate to cut out early but"-Jack makes it a point to check the time on his watch-"I've got to call it a night."

"So soon?" Maggie frowns. "But the sign out front says the band's going to start playing in a bit."

Jack flashes her a remorseful look. "Sorry, Maggie. I have meetings tomorrow, too, and I have to prep." When his eyes flicker over to me, I realize what he's doing. He gives me a nearly imperceptible nod, moving out of the booth to stand. I stand again, shake hands, and he pulls me in for a brief hug. Maggie slides out, stepping up to hug him good-bye.

"Take good care of him, Maggie." With a quick wink, he's off, weaving through the growing crowd and making his way to the exit.

Maggie turns to me. "Can we talk for a moment?"

Warily, I try to gauge her expression but come up empty. "Sure." I take Jack's seat as she slides back in on the other side of the booth, facing me.

Leaning her arms on the table, her focus drops to her hands. Taking a deep breath, her eyes rise to meet mine, and I see nervousness shining in the depths. "Can I ask about you and Jack?"

"Of course."

"Well, here's the thing. I-" She breaks off with a nervous laugh, looking away, her eyes drifting over the crowd among us. Turning back to me, her gaze has a unique intensity. "I wanted to know if you and Jack were still ... together in any way?"

"No." I shake my head. "Not at all. We're just friends."

Her lips curve upward in a relieved smile. "Okay, good."

"But I wanted to tell you-"

Holding up a hand to stop me, she shakes her head. "I don't need to know anything else." When my lips part to protest, she interrupts. "Please. Not tonight."

I can't argue with her hopeful, pleading expression. Not when she looks at me like that.

Nodding slowly, I say, "Okay." All the while, my mind is screaming, Tell her! Tell her now!

The band, which had been setting up, starts playing a song, and Maggie's face lights up. She pops up from her seat, which has her back to the band, and comes around to slide in beside me to watch them perform.

Moving over to make more room, my right arm drapes along the back of the seat behind her. What happens next makes my heart nearly beat out of my chest.

Maggie slides in closer to my side, her scent drifting over me. Here, sitting like this with her, just the two of us, I feel like this is how it could be.

Just me and my Mags.

My eyes take in her profile, the soft curves of her cheekbones, the sharp bridge of her nose and her lips, lush and kissable.

When she turns, catching me watching her, her expression is curious. "Ry?"

Leaning in, I drag my lips against hers, her soft exhale washing against them. Burying my fingers in her hair, I tease her more, taking her bottom lip between my own before leaning back.

Maggie's eyes drift open, and I witness such intense heat in them, but there's more. Something else flickering in the depths. Something that gives me pause.

I want to say a million different things right now. But they're jumbled in my brain because I want to say them right. Because I have to say them right.

"Maggie, I ..."

She presses a finger to my lips, stopping me. "Just ... answer this." Her gaze is searching, pressing her lips thin, as if apprehensive. "Do you want to ... be with me?"

Chapter Forty-Seven.

Maggie I'm holding my breath waiting for Ry's answer, the hope and fear warring inside me. I know I just posed a loaded question, and maybe he won't see through it and see what I'm really asking.

Do you want to be with me the way I want to be with you?

Do you love me?

Wonderful. Now, I'm thinking along the lines of Do you like me? Check yes or no. Could I possibly be more lame?

Just when I'm about to rescind my question-to try to laugh it off-his lips curve upward in what has to be classified as one of the sexiest yet sweetest smiles I've seen.

Leaning in, he brushes the tip of his nose against mine, and his eyes remain locked on me. But when he answers, I find myself gasping at the sincerity-and vehement certainty-in his words.

"More than anything in the world."

Both hands delve into my hair, his lips crashing against mine in a hungry kiss, and when his tongue sweeps inside, heady arousal strums through me. When he breaks the kiss, his lust-hazed eyes meet mine, intense heat in the depths.

"Can we ..." Trailing off, I worry my bottom lip.

His mouth curves up in a sly smile. "Why, Mags. Are you asking me to come home with you?" Smile widening, he leans in. "You little hussy, you."

Shoving at his chest playfully, I roll my eyes, looking up at the ceiling. "Why me, Lord? Why did I get stuck with the cocky roommate?"

"Not everyone can be so blessed, my child."

"You'd make one hell of a priest."

Ry stares at me in mock horror. "As if I could manage to abstain from sex for eternity."

"Mmm, minor complication."

He looks at his crotch as if it's going to chime in the conversation. "Not minor at all."

Covering my face with my hands, I groan with a little laugh. "Ryyyyy."

Snagging my wrist, he presses a kiss to the inside, over where my pulse is beating wildly. "Let's go home." Pulling out some cash, he tosses it onto the table.

"Wait." Laying my hand on his arm, his eyes meet mine, a mixture of disappointment and apprehension in them. "Before we go." I smile, sliding one of the napkins in front of me before reaching in my small purse for a pen.

His features relax, and he watches me as I write.

I want to be someone's everything.

Sliding the napkin closer to him, I hand him the pen. His expression is unreadable as he stares down at my words. Appearing to ponder what to write for a moment, he glances over at me before focusing on the napkin, using an arm to shield my view of what he's writing.

"Hey!" I protest, trying fruitlessly to make his arm budge so I can see.

He drops his arm, handing my pen back. One large palm splays over the writing, a cryptic smile playing on his lips.

"Let's go." Giving up, I slide out of the booth with him behind me. Helping me back into my coat, Ry fastens the belt, and tightening his fingers over the lapels, he tugs me close to press a swift kiss to my lips. He tucks something in my right hand, closing my fingers around it.

The napkin.

The entire walk to the exit doors, I feel the heat from Ry's palm at the base of my back, the possessive gesture fueling my anticipation. But that isn't what makes me stumble. It's the moment I look down at what he'd written on the napkin in my hand.

You already are.

We're walking hand in hand along the sidewalk, crossing over Division Street on our way back to the apartment when I see him.

"Wait." I tug on Ry's hand, cocking my head in the direction of a man sitting on the lone bench beneath the streetlight a mere three feet away from the Adirondack Bank building.

No one knows his name, but he's evidently homeless. He always has a shopping cart full of things-bags of cans and bottles that he's planning to exchange for the redeemable deposit fees and bags containing who knows what else. Whenever I run errands for work, and I see him on what most of the locals deem "his bench," I'll stop in the local bakery and grab a bottle of water, a hot cocoa, and a few muffins for him. On days he's not there, I worry about him but always end up seeing him pushing that cart down another street.

He's not clean and usually smells pretty ripe, but I've never seen him with any liquor or anything else, so I don't think he's on the streets due to addiction. The man always avoids meeting anyone's eyes, and the times I offer him food and drink, he'll shy away from me, leaving me to set the items I bring him in his cart or on the other end of the bench where he sits.

"I don't have anything to give him except maybe money." The bakery has long since closed for the day. Pursing my lips in thought, I peer up at Ry.

"Let me check on something real quick." Steering me to stand beneath the streetlight at the corner of the sidewalk as numerous couples and groups of people walk past, enjoying the cool, crisp Friday evening, he steps away, walking over to approach the man on the bench. Ry nears him, stopping just a few feet away, speaking quietly in a hushed tone. A moment later, Ry returns to me, grasping my hand and leading me back in the direction from which we started.

"Where-"

"He's in the mood for wings. Apparently, people give him pizza all the time." I notice Ry's lips are curved up slightly. "So I told him we'd get him some wings real quick."

Stopping at the nearby pub, we slip inside and weave through the crowded establishment until we're at the end of the bar. Ry's hand is at my back, leaning in to place a to-go order with the bartender, and I find myself glancing around taking in the others on dates or together as couples or friends.

My eyes focus on one couple in particular who appear so at ease with one another, the affection they feel toward one another so obvious.

"Hey." Ry's husky voice in my ear makes me turn, and he's watching me expectantly, one eyebrow cocked.

"Twice in one night? Wouldn't we be jinxing things?" I tease, eyeing the napkin he has beneath one hand.