We're standing on the sidewalk outside my apartment after Sean insisted on walking me home. We stayed at Max Londons until we were nearly kicked out at closing time. We talked the entire night, sharing a variety of appetizers and more than one pitcher of white sangria. Now, standing in the crisp evening air amidst the trees strung with white lights along Broadway Avenue, it's almost magical.

Sean gazes down at me. "I had an incredible time tonight, Maggie." Offering a self-deprecating grin, he adds, softly, "I'm glad I gave it a shot and approached you tonight."

"Me, too." I take a tentative step closer.

"I'd love to do this again." He takes a step toward me, closing the remaining distance.

Tipping my head back slightly to look up at him, I find my eyes tracking him as he leans in toward me, and our lips meet in a sweet, delicate kiss. One of his hands cups the nape of my neck as he brushes his lips across mine before placing one kiss at each corner of my lips, dusting one on the tip of my nose, and then leaning back slightly.

"Good night, Maggie." He presses one final kiss to my lips before backing away with a soft smile on his face. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Don't forget about the two-week wait time until you can start sexting me," I tease.

His lips twist into a fake pout. "That rule doesn't still apply for me, now, does it? Even after I fed you?"

I flash him a warning look, but my inability to restrain my smile lightens the severity of it. "Hey, buddy. I need more than food and sangria to get me to reconsider the two-week wait time."

"Bummer." He lets out a sigh, grinning wide. "I'll somehow have to make do for two weeks."

"Until next time." I wave before turning to head inside my building.

"Maggie?"

Turning, I find him standing a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his pants and wearing a sober expression on his face. "I really had a great time tonight."

"Me, too." With one final smile and wave, I enter my building and head to the elevator.

And the entire ride up to my floor, that smile is still on my face.

Chapter Sixteen.

Ry "You about ready, Mags?" I holler down the hall from where I've been prepping the living room, getting it ready for our usual Saturday movie night. Setting the large bowl of salted popcorn on the coffee table and pausing to straighten the stack of Architectural Digests upon it, I hear her bedroom door open and her footsteps approaching.

"Uh, Ry..." She trails off, and I don't need to turn around to know what she's about to say next.

Stiffening, I rise from straightening the magazines, heading into the kitchen to uncork a new bottle of wine.

God knows I'm going to need it. Because this pinching in my chest? The fact that she likely forgot about our usual Saturday night tradition?

It hurts. As though someone's driving a burning stake into my chest.

"Ry, I'm sorry. I didn't even think-" Her tone is apologetic, but it does nothing to soothe the hurt.

"Don't worry about it. I could use a night in by myself." Still not turning to face her, I concentrate on uncorking the wine.

"I can ask Sean if we can-" The knock on the door interrupts her. "That's him now. Let me talk to him real quick, okay?"

Blowing out a long breath, I face her. "Mags. It's no biggie. Just go and have fun, okay?"

Her eyes search mine for a brief moment before turning and rushing down the hall to the door. Pouring my wine-a healthy amount-I try not to give in to the urge to strain to hear what they're whispering about by the door.

Just as I'm swirling the wine in my glass, musing about my pathetic existence, Maggie pops back into the kitchen. "So," she clasps her hands together with an overly energetic smile, "Sean and I decided to forgo our plans, and we can all stay in for movie night! Yay!"

My eyes flicker past Maggie to meet Sean's gaze, both of us parroting but with far less enthusiasm, "Yay."

If I wasn't already certain I'd made a mistake in not insisting Maggie and Sean keep their Saturday night plans earlier, I sure as hell am now. Because sitting through movie night with the two of them is much like what I imagine it must've been like for Guantanamo prisoners who underwent waterboarding.

Excruciating torture.

Instead of Maggie's legs draped over my thighs, she's sitting with her legs pulled up to the side and leaning into Sean. Sure, she's sitting between us, but it's not the same. Not by a long shot. To make matters worse, only Maggie and I are going back and forth, quoting Weird Science.

"So what would you little maniacs like to do first?" we both mutter at the same time, turning to each other and snickering.

The entire time, Sean's on his cell phone, texting like a madman with his brows furrowed in concentration. As if he's a neurosurgeon or something and people can't bear to be disconnected from him for the weekend.

"You okay over there, Sean?" There's a hint of a bite in my tone, and I attempt to disguise it with an earnest expression.

"Yep." Tap, tap, tap. Seriously. The dude has a low-level marketing job. Low. Level. Nothing where he'd be on call on the weekends.

"I'm going to get a refill." Rising from the couch, I look over at Maggie. "Need anything?" When she offers a quick, "No, thanks," reluctantly, my eyes fall on Sean. "How about you?"

Sean shakes his head dismissively, eyes still on his phone. Heading into the kitchen, I roll my eyes. While uncorking the wine and refilling my glass, I mutter beneath my breath. "Beautiful woman by my side and I can't be bothered to pay any atten-"

"Hey, man."

My hand jerks in surprise, some wine spilling onto the counter. "Shit." Hurriedly wiping up the spill, I look up at Sean. "Hey." When he doesn't elaborate on his reason for suddenly joining me in the kitchen, I lift the half-full bottle of wine. "You change your mind about a refill?"

His eyes don't leave mine as he casually leans against the refrigerator, hands sliding into his pockets. "I'm not going to pretend like I understand your game." His voice is low, making it evident he doesn't want to be overheard, but his gaze turns hard. "But Maggie is not going to be yours."

Casually taking a sip of wine before setting my glass back on the counter, I offer an easy shrug. "Don't know what you're talking about."

Our eyes war-neither of us looking away and neither of us wanting to break the stare. Like two juvenile boys.

"Hey, you two." Maggie slides up beside Sean, linking her arm through his, her eyes flickering back and forth between us curiously. "Everything okay?"

"Yep." Sean fixes a smile on her. "Ry was just saying how he wasn't really feeling well tonight and thought we should head out to give him some peace and quiet."

Maggie frowns at me. "Ry?" Her eyes dart to the counter beside me.

Stepping a few inches to my right to block the sight of my refilled wine glass on the counter behind me, I shrug. "Yeah. Tonight's been rough, so I'd better take it easy before the nausea gets to be too much for me to handle." My fingers give a brief tug on my left earlobe.

She steps forward, wrapping her arms around me in a hug. "Call me if you need anything, okay?" she whispers. "Love you."

Dipping my head down to press a soft kiss to the top of her head, whispering an, "I love you," back, I don't break eye contact with Sean. Which means I don't miss the narrowing of his eyes.

He's on to me.

The gauntlet has officially been thrown.

Chapter Seventeen.

Maggie My phone rings as soon as Sybil leaves my office in huff number five hundred and fifty-two. And it's only just now hit noon.

Glancing over at the caller ID lighting up on my desk phone, I heave a sigh of relief that it's actually someone I want to talk to.

"Ryland James," I draw out his name. "What are you up to on this glorious Monday?"

"Up to far more good than Little Miss Sunshine who just exited your office, that much is certain. How many times has he come in to bother you in the last four hours? Ten?"

"More like twel- Wait!" I swivel my chair around to peer out the window, but the sunlight is reflecting off the bank of windows on the building across from me, so I can't detect any sight of him. "Are you spying on me again?"

"Guilty as charged." Amusement laces his tone. "Does this mean you have to cuff me? Because if so, I'm on board. Especially with that prim and proper pinstriped duo you have going on right now."

Glancing down at my matching skirt and jacket, I snicker. "This is the most boring outfit I own." With a pause, I add, "Not to mention, you need to stop spying on me with those dang binoculars. It's creepy."

"It's not creepy."

"It's creepy."

"It's not. It means I'm dedicated to something. I know that this time, every day, you let out a long exhale, rub your temples after your boss leaves your office to head to lunch-where I'm convinced he goes to some dark, underground place where he feeds on the blood of pure virgins or something equally as disturbing-and you try to catch up on emails while eating your lunch at your desk."

"Like I said. Creepy."

"I prefer to say I'm just watching out for you."

"Mmm, still sounds creepy."

"No, it doesn't. If I said something about watching you when you adjust the strap of the black bra you sometimes wear and that it usually needs to be adjusted about a quarter of an inch, that would be creepy."

I hesitate, mulling over his words. Do I do that? Do I have a black bra that- "Gotcha."

I laugh, shaking my head as I pull out my insulated lunch bag from one of my desk drawers. "You're not right." Opening my bag, I falter because inside is ... not what I packed in a frenzied rush this morning after sleeping in due to getting back later than expected from dinner with Sean last night: a granola bar, some crackers, and a string cheese stick.

"Ry." His name is spoken on an exhale as I turn my eyes toward the windows again, wishing desperately that I could see him.

His response is husky. "Just a little surprise for my Mags. No biggie."

But he's so wrong. It is a biggie. As I pull out a container of sliced strawberries, reaching past a small cooler pack to withdraw another container with a mixed greens salad, I discover one of the individually wrapped Godiva chocolates Ry insists on keeping around the apartment for when he experiences his "time of the month."

My shoulders sag. "Ry. Thank you." I smile into the phone.

"Keep digging, Mags."

Curiously, I reach down to the very bottom to find a folded paper towel. Unfolding it, I read it.

I want the other person to be happy. Always.

Before I can ask him the meaning behind this, I hear another male voice in the background on his end. Hastily, he tells me he has to go.

"Enjoy your lunch, Mags. Love you." Then he hangs up.

"Thanks," I mumble, setting the phone back in the cradle in a daze. "Love you, too."

I eat the rest of my lunch in silence, staring at Ry's handwritten words.

"Maggie? A Ms. Sarah Eaton is here for you." I glance up from my desk to see Trevor, one of our interns, at my door.

"Thanks, Trevor. You can send her on in."

Glancing at the clock, I wince, realizing how much time has passed. I should be close to finishing for the day, yet I've been wrestling with one project in particular, and it's nearing five thirty in the evening.

"Hey, loser." Sarah walks in my office, slumping into one of the chairs in front of my desk. "Are you planning to live here now?"

"You're one to talk," I tease, referring to the long hours she puts in at the hospital. I take in her plain-clothes appearance, noting the absence of her scrubs. "Did you play hooky today?"

She leans her head back against the chair, closing her eyes. "Nope. I misread the schedule, so it turned out to be my day off."

"That's awesome." I honestly don't know how she does it, pulling all those long hours at the hospital while going to school. It doesn't leave time for much else, but she'll soon have P.A. beside her name-Physician Assistant-and that will open more doors and increase her paycheck, as well.

"Let me save everything and shut down my computer, and we can go ..." I trail off, raising my eyebrows.

Her head snaps up. "Eat. I want to eat dinner with my best friend. And not talk about work or about heart valves or episiotomies or anything else."

"Whoa. That was emphatically descriptive."

Sarah smiles. "Most emphatically descriptive."

I start clicking my mouse to save my files and am in the process of shutting down my computer when she clears her throat.

"Can we invite Ry along? I haven't seen him in a while, either."

It's not so much her question that draws my attention as it is the way she asks it. "I'll have to-"