"I know it's pathetic, but I'm going to miss you," I mumble softly against his chest.

"I always miss my Mags when she's not around." His voice is soft, hushed, his words washing over me as his large hand rubs my back affectionately.

Smiling against his button-down shirt, I tease, "Do you always refer to me in the third person, too?"

He doesn't respond for a moment, but once he does, it's not at all what I'm expecting. "If you want me to stay in, I can cancel," he murmurs, his lips pressed against the top of my head.

With a sigh, I pull from his embrace and force a bright smile. "No. Don't you dare cancel your date." I pat his chest. "Jack's been gone for work, and I know you've missed him. Go." I tip my head toward the hallway leading to the front door. "Have fun, okay?"

His eyes study me for a moment before finally leaning in to press a soft kiss to my forehead. "Call me if you need anything."

"Will do."

He turns, and as I watch him, my eyes drift over him, observing how great he looks in those jeans that fit him in all the right places. His ass looks incredible; the black button-down shirt he tucked in emphasizing his trim waist.

And not for the first time-and likely, not the last, either-I curse the fact that I'm not his type.

Chapter Eight.

Ry "I've been thinking," Maggie starts out as we're sitting down eating dinner after work. We've both had a seriously hectic day and are too exhausted to care that we're eating an unbalanced meal of macaroni and cheese with wine.

"I'm ready to try dating again."

My fork clangs noisily against my bowl as my head whips up to stare at her. "What?"

She jerks back slightly at my sharp tone, giving me an odd look. "I'm ready to try dating again."

No. This isn't how it's supposed to go, damn it! Not that I knew how it was really supposed to go, but this ... definitely isn't it. She's supposed to say something like, "Oh, I think I'm in love with you, Ry." And then I'll say something back like, "I love you, too. And also, I'm not really gay." Then she'll say, "That's a relief!" And we'd commence living happily ever after.

Okay, so that isn't suave in any way, shape, or form but give me a break. I'm a dude. We're not exactly known for being flawless orators.

But the idea of her going out and meeting guys, dating ... It rips my fucking heart out. Because I want to be the one who gets to go out with her, to date her. I mean I kind of already do, but not in the same capacity. I don't get to kiss her, hold her hand, or touch her like that.

Fuck. I have to get my shit together. This can't happen.

"You look like you ... disapprove?" Maggie remarks slowly, eyeing me carefully.

Trying to school my expression, I shake my head, tugging on my earlobe as I attempt to find the right words. "I just want you to be careful, that's all. I don't want you to get hurt again."

She lays her hand on my arm, giving me a sweet smile. "Thanks, Ry. I appreciate that." When she pulls back, I instantly register the absence of her touch. "I just feel like I've been relying too heavily on you lately. Kind of using you as a crutch, you know?" She forks a bit of the cheesy pasta into her mouth, chewing with a thoughtful expression on her face.

She swallows and takes a sip of her wine. "It's time to get back in the swing of things."

"Yeah." I fork some macaroni and cheese into my mouth, not tasting it. I barely register anything else she says as she plans her first, official night out on the town to "get back in the saddle."

I'm too damn busy trying to figure out what in the hell I'm going to do to thwart her plans.

"You sure about this, Mags?"

"Yep. It has to be done." She has an expression of stern concentration as she gazes down at the engagement ring in the small, black velvet box.

After dinner, she asked me if I'd help her figure out how to sell the three-stone engagement ring Shane had given her.

Of course, I agreed, but now ... shit. Selfishly, it's like someone's taken an ice pick to my chest at the mere sight of another man's ring-someone she once loved and was prepared to spend the rest of her life with.

Look, I know she loves me, but she doesn't love me-love me.

Congratulations to me for sounding like a twelve-year-old chick just now.

"Ry," her voice is thick with emotion, "do you think he ever really ..." She trails off, staring down at the ring, and the moment I see a lone tear drop, trickling over one of the stones, I tug her into my arms.

Enfolding her in my embrace, I press my lips to her hair, breathing her in. "Mags, there's not a doubt in my mind that he loved you." Closing my eyes, I breathe in her intoxicating scent combined with the slightly fruity scent of her shampoo. "Sometimes, people are just not meant to be ... forever. There's no rhyme or reason to it."

It's brisk tonight, especially in downtown Saratoga Springs, and this street always manages to be more like a wind tunnel. Tugging Maggie's collar up on her fleece, I run my hand down her back.

As we stand there, a few steps away from the jeweler Jack had suggested we see, Maggie sniffles quietly against my chest. My heart aches, yet at the same time, I'm pissed off at the asshole. He clearly didn't deserve her in the first place, totally discarding her as if she wasn't the most incredible woman around.

I pray to God I can pull this off. Because if I can't have Maggie-have Maggie's love-then I'll have absolutely nothing. Which confirms that it's time.

Time to bring out my A-game.

"Hey, you two! Fancy meeting you here." I sling an arm around Maggie's shoulders, pulling her into a quick hug before releasing her to step toward the guy she's talking to. She had told me she'd meet me at Irish Times pub after work. Clearly, it hadn't taken long before she'd snagged someone's attention.

Holding out a hand, I introduce myself. "Ry James, nice to meet you."

He falters, eyes darting back and forth between Mags and me; he's likely wondering exactly who the hell I am. She pipes up, "He's my roommate."

"Ah," is all he manages to say, shaking my hand, and it's a shitty ass handshake. I squeeze a little tighter than I normally do. Just because. And I have to work hard at hiding my satisfied grin when I see him wince.

"So tell me about yourself ..." I trail off expectantly, since he has yet to tell me his name.

"Conner," Maggie supplies.

"Conner," I say and repeat, "Tell me about yourself, buddy."

Just as his lips part to speak, Maggie lays a hand on my arm. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I'm going to use the restroom." Flashing a smile at Conner, she adds, "I'll be right back."

Looking over at the guy, he's clearly feeling the full effect of her smile, and hell, I can't say that I blame him. Especially with that lipstick stuff she's wearing tonight. She was telling me all about it earlier, saying she was going to try it out. It's supposed to last hours and not leave a mark on wine glasses or anything else. I really can't get into that stuff, normally, but I was proven wrong when she exited her room after getting ready for tonight, and I saw her lips.

Holy fucking shit. Whatever that stuff was, she needed to use it all the damn time. But only for me. Because it made her lips look more plump, more lush, and the deep shade of pink ... It was torture not to kiss her.

Turning back to Conner once Maggie's out of earshot, I sling an arm around his shoulders. "So Con-you don't mind me calling you that, do ya? Did Mags tell you about me?"

He's eyeing me warily, and I feel like a shark who's just detected blood in the water. "No, she didn't."

"Really?" I widen my eyes in faux surprise. "Well, she's such an absolute doll face, taking it upon herself to try and find a new man." I wait-to drop the real bomb-before adding, "For us to share." And the moment my words really sink in, it's priceless.

Fucking priceless.

Disengaging himself from the arm I've slung around his shoulders, he begins to stutter. "I, uh, I don't ..." Abruptly pulling his cell phone from his back pocket, he checks it, saying with fake urgency, "I forgot about something I've got to do."

Backing away, he holds up a hand as if he fears that I'll jump him. "Great meeting you both!" He disappears in a flash, and I'm left standing there with a smug grin on my face.

Job well done, James. Job well done.

"Hey." Maggie returns, stepping up beside me and glancing around in question. "Where's Conner?"

"Oh, he said he forgot about something he had to do." I twist my lips in a slight pout. "Bummer, huh?"

"Yeah." She sighs. "I thought we were getting along pretty well."

Tapping her lightly beneath her chin, I wink. "Chin up, gorgeous. Want to see if we can snag some seats at the bar?"

Brightening, she nods. "Sure." As we turn, I hear her murmur, "We didn't even get to exchange numbers before he left either, dang it."

Patting her on the back, I offer her some sympathy. It's not genuine, but luckily, she doesn't notice. "Bummer, Mags. Major bummer."

As I follow her over to the bar, a happy smile stretches across my face as I look forward to having Mags all to myself, once again.

So far, my evil plan is working.

Chapter Nine.

Maggie My birthday is a big deal. Like a really big deal. To me.

Obviously.

I love birthdays. Always have, always will.

Some people hate birthdays, hate getting older, and hate the idea of moving closer to their expiration date on this earth. Not me, though. I love the excuse to have a celebration, getting my favorite people together, eating a little too much, possibly (likely) indulging in a few too many of the adult beverage variety, and getting presents.

Sarah always gives me the best presents. But here's the thing-she doesn't go all out with the most expensive thing. She does things I would never think of. One year, she gave me a bottle of wine that had my own label on it. It was "aged" from my date of birth and had my photo on it. Cool, right?

Also, I have to add that, being the stellar friend that she is, she chose a great photo of me for the label. One where I don't actually have those deer-in-the-headlights eyes because I'm trying so hard not to blink at the camera's flash.

Another year, she had a calendar made that had a bunch of photos of us throughout the years. I still have that stashed away because I couldn't bear to write on it and use it. It was just too awesome.

Anyway, you get what I'm saying. She rocks at unique birthday gifts. So you can understand my anticipation when she, Ry, Jack, and I all got together at Sushi Thai for my birthday.

After inhaling more Pad Thai than I thought was humanly possible and once the waiter cleared our dishes, Sarah pulls out a large, cylinder-shaped wrapped gift with an enormous grin on her face.

After she hands it to me, I waste no time tearing off the wrapping paper. It looks like it's a rolled up doormat of some sort. My eyes flicker to Sarah's in question, but she just smiles. Sliding the large rubber band from around the mat, I unroll it and see that it has the outline of the state of New York on it and says Home is Where the Heart Is. Beneath that is The Finegan & James Family.

See? Yet another year with another perfect, unique gift from her.

"This is the coolest thing ever!" I turn the mat toward the guys to show them before thanking Sarah.

Jack pulls out a thin envelope with an apologetic look on his face. "I'm shitty at gift giving, Maggie. Sorry in advance."

"Stop." I flash him an admonishing smile. "I'm sure it's perfect." Opening the envelope, I pull out a gift certificate for a massage at the Gideon Putnam resort, which is pretty expensive.

"Jack," I breathe out, my eyes flying to his smiling ones. "This is too much."

He makes a face. "Please." Tossing a thumb in Ry's direction, he adds, "My princess doesn't like massages, so it's all good."

"And that's my cue to present this." Ry hands me a large gift bag. "I was afraid it wouldn't be finished in time, but I lucked out at the last minute."

Digging excitedly through the mounds of tissue paper in the bag, my fingers touch on something extremely soft. Pulling it from the bag, I see that it's a large, fleece throw blanket.

But it's not just any throw blanket. It has photos of Sarah and me, Ry and me, and of the four of us together printed on the fleece material. Looking over the captured moments-the specific photographs he chose for the blanket-I feel tears begin to prick my eyes. Because I know, without a doubt, I would have chosen the same ones. These photos are my favorites; ones that display just how much affection there is between us.

Raising my eyes to meet Ry's, I find him watching me with an unnerving intensity, and I swear there's a hint of vulnerability in his features.

"Ry, I love it." Emotion is clogging my throat, and I feel as though I can barely get the words out.

"Really?" he asks softly.

"Without a doubt."

And that's when it happens. For the first time in my life, I experience a movie fade-out.

You know, a movie fade-out where one of the main characters-usually in a romantic movie-sees the object of their affection and the rest of the world fades away. The other person comes into sharp focus and all the music-there's usually music in the background, by the way-fades or becomes extremely faint, and the two of them have a moment. And you're like, Awwwww, so sweet!

That's happening to me right now. The only problem is that I'm having that particular kind of moment with my roommate.

My gay roommate. While his boyfriend is sitting right beside him.

This is the point where you want to slap some sense into me, isn't it?

Tearing my eyes away from Ry, I catch sight of the look Sarah's giving me, and it appears as though she'd also like to get in on that little slap-some-sense-into-Maggie thing.

Get in line, sister. Because right now, I feel like I need to slap some sense into myself.