McCallum Quintuplets Page 8

  “Really,” Madeline said, and her look, and her tone of voice, told him he’d crossed a line. “Well, I have to go. You’ll clean up? I shouldn’t be more than an hour, but then I have to think about getting ready for Blake Ritter’s open house. Are you going? I mean, obviously your tournament has been canceled?”

  Ian’s mood, which had been jumping around pretty spryly, zeroed in on righteous anger. “Ritter’s? You mean to tell me you’re still going? Dammit, Maddie, we have to talk. Not eat, not pretend nothing’s happened. Talk.”

  “Not if I don’t want to,” Madeline told him. “I said everything I had to say last night.”

  “Well, I didn’t!” he yelled, but he was talking to the door that closed behind Maddie as she ran out of the apartment.

  MADDIE CRIED all the way to the hospital. She’d cried most of the night, so it wasn’t as if this was anything new, but she was getting pretty sick of it.

  Why had she thought she could get up this morning, make breakfast, act as if her world still turned on the same axis, moved along with the same routines that had been set in stone for fifteen years?

  It had taken everything in her, every scrap of courage, to go across the hall to Ian’s apartment this morning, tell him that breakfast was ready. But that’s what she had to do if she had any hope of continuing their friendship.

  She should have known it wouldn’t work.

  Not after she’d admitted to him that, yes, she’d once been in love with him.

  Why had she said that? For one, it was damning information. And two, there was no once about it. She was in love with Ian. Had always been in love with him, would always be in love with him.

  Either that, or she was a masochist. Maybe both—because, otherwise, why would she have forced herself to be content with a friendship—albeit the friendship of a lifetime—when what she had always wanted, needed, was his love?

  Madeline parked in her assigned spot in the covered garage and walked toward the staff entrance, trying to pick a bit of angora from her tongue as she wondered, not for the first time, why she had bothered to put on another of her new outfits. She liked them, certainly, but who was she kidding? Take away the angora, the scarf, the slacks that really did feel quite good against her legs, and she was still Madeline Sheppard—thirty-five years old, an apple and single. Probably to remain single for the rest of her life.

  Because no one could replace Ian in her life, not ever. Even if they could go back to where they’d been, be friends again, be comfortable around each other again. She’d been about as comfortable around him this morning as she’d be standing stark naked, in the dark, in a cactus field. Any way she moved, she felt exposed, and definitely in danger of getting hurt.

  Ian probably felt the same way. Poor guy. When she wasn’t angry with him, Madeline felt sorry for him. He’d been the victim of April’s and Annabelle’s makeover, which was probably quite an embarrassment for him. But that was men. They reacted to stimuli and always had. Although it still shocked her that Ian could lose control just because of a tangerine silk blouse.

  Maybe she’d have to think about wearing bright colors more often….

  “Good morning, Madeline.”

  She turned to see Zachary Beaumont coming toward her. “Rounds done so soon, Zach?” she asked. “How’s Maggie McCallum? I was just going up to check on her.”

  The obstetrician shook his head. “Our patient is fine, her babies look great on the ultrasound I ordered this morning, but the husband looks like he needs a long nap. Poor guy, he gets to worry about both his wife and the babies. Maggie is concerned only for the babies and doesn’t think about herself at all.”

  “Isn’t that always the way it is?” Madeline said, patting Zach’s arm as she leaned forward, hit the button to summon the elevator. “Mothers are always oblivious to their own possibilities for complications. Maybe it’s nature’s way of keeping them strong and focused on getting those babies safely to that delivery room?”

  “Could be,” Zach answered as the elevator doors opened. “Well, I’m off. There’s a stack of medical journals at home with my name on them, I’m afraid. See you tomorrow?”

  Madeline nodded, waved and then stood back as the elevator doors slid closed, opening again on the second floor. She waved hello to the nurses on duty and went directly into Maggie’s room, to find her patient sitting on the side of the bed, already dressed to go home.

  “Now this is a sight to gladden my heart, even on such a gray and rainy day,” Madeline said. “Where’s Adam?”

  “Oh, he had to go to the office. Something about having our insurance cards photocopied, or something like that.” Then Maggie tipped her head, smiled. “You know, Madeline, it was pretty intense in here last night, but I did notice. I’m noticing again this morning. You look terrific.”

  Madeline couldn’t help herself. She smiled, raised a hand to pat at her loose curls. “Thank you. I…I, well, I bought a new wardrobe. It was either that or my friends were going to burn everything I owned and leave me with nothing to wear.”

  “Really? I’ll bet there’s a story behind that,” Maggie said, then took hold of Madeline’s hand as she lowered her arm. “And this! I saw it last night. I mean, who could help it? Diamonds sparkle so beautifully in overhead lights, don’t they? Is it new?”

  Madeline covered the bracelet with her left hand. “Yes, as a matter of fact it is. A birthday present, actually. I just got it last night.”

  “Your birthday was yesterday? Oh, Madeline, I’m so sorry. I imagine the hospital was the very last place you wanted to be last night. Especially after that gift. Somebody is very serious about you, Madeline. Can you give me a hint?”

  Madeline could feel the blood draining from her cheeks. “Oh, no, no. You’ve got that wrong, Maggie. The bracelet is from a friend.”

  “Then he’s a very good friend,” Maggie said, and beckoned to her husband, who’d just walked into the room. “Adam, look at this bracelet. Would you call that a gift from a good friend? Come on, Madeline, stop covering it up and show Adam.”

  Sighing, Madeline gave in and did as Maggie asked, holding out her arm so Adam could look at the bracelet.

  Adam gave a low whistle. “A friend, huh? Madeline, I’m no expert, but I’d say at least one of you has a different definition of the word friend.”

  Madeline felt the color rising into her cheeks. Her entire body seemed to blush. “What…what do you mean?”

  “Maybe I can help,” Maggie said as Adam hovered over her, helping her to her feet. “Men—and I’m right, I imagine, that the bracelet came from a man?—well, unless they’re millionaires, they do not give diamond bracelets to good friends. They give them to girl friends. Serious girlfriends. Getting ready to go down on one knee and propose to her type girlfriends.”

  As Madeline held out her arm, stared at the bracelet, Maggie asked, “Tell me. This friend? What did he buy you last year, if you knew him last year?”

  “Oh, we’ve been friends for fifteen years,” Madeline answered, her ears sort of buzzing, snatches of things Ian had said to her last night coming into her mind, confusing her, beginning to delight her.

  “Fifteen years?” Adam chuckled. “Sort of a slow starter, isn’t he?”

  “Adam, stop it,” Maggie told him, playfully slapping at his arm. “Come on, Madeline, tell us. What did he give you for your birthday last year?”

  “A food processor,” Madeline mumbled into the cowl neckline of her angora sweater, risking another mouthful of angora.

  “What? I didn’t hear that.” Maggie prodded her.

  “A food processor, Maggie. She said he gave her a food processor,” Adam said helpfully.

  “A food processor? And now a diamond bracelet?” Maggie gave Madeline a quick hug. “Oh, I’m so happy for you!”

  Madeline vaguely heard Maggie through the buzzing in her ears, over the loud pounding of her heart. “Um…thank you,” she said. “But it’s not like he’s said anything yet. He just gave me the
bracelet.”

  “See? I said slow starter, didn’t I?” Adam said, earning himself a very stern look from his wife.

  “Maybe we interrupted him?” Maggie asked, walking alongside Madeline on their way to the elevators. “Did we interrupt you last night, Madeline? It wasn’t quite midnight, so we could have, couldn’t we?”

  “Hmm?” Madeline knew Maggie had said something, but she hadn’t really heard it. She held out her hand to Adam, then to Maggie, mumbled something about seeing the two of them on their next visit to the unit. Then she walked into the elevator, not realizing that the doors closed with both Maggie and Adam still standing in the hallway, watching her, smiling as they watched her.

  She had to go home. She really, really had to go home, although how she got there would remain a mystery to her for the rest of her life.

  “Ian!” she called as she banged on his apartment door, then tried the doorknob and, finding the door unlocked, went inside, slamming the door behind her. She stuck out her tongue, removed yet another bit of angora fuzz, rubbed it between her fingertips. “Ian Russell, where are you?”

  He appeared at the mouth of the hallway that led to his bedroom, hopping as he tried to get his second leg into his jeans. “What? Maddie? What’s wrong? Is the building on fire? Are you hurt?”

  Just look at him. Maddie tried not to smile as he pulled up his jeans, zipped them, sucked in his already flat gut as he closed the button. His chest was bare, which would probably make this easier, and his hair was still damp from the shower. “You had something to say to me?” she asked, walking to the couch, stepping out of her shoes as she went, then sitting down, making herself comfortable.

  “What?” Ian came around the couch, stood in front of the coffee table. “Now you want to talk? Dammit, Maddie, I used to think I understood you.”

  “That goes both ways, Ian. I used to think I understood you, too.”

  “Yeah, well,” he said, raking a hand through his hair, obviously searching for words, any words at all. “So did I. But not lately. Lately, I just think maybe I’ve lost my mind.”

  “Oh, well, that’s flattering,” Madeline said, feeling more confident by the moment. She didn’t know why and didn’t want to examine the why of any of it, but Adam and Maggie McCallum’s words had opened her eyes to a whole new world of possibilities.

  When she put those possibilities together with a few things Ian had said last night—words about how he hadn’t just gone wild because of a tangerine blouse but had already started looking at her in a new way a few weeks ago? And then the bracelet, instead of a food processor or a telescope? And that kiss? The way he’d held her? The way he’d touched her?

  Ian pointed at the couch. “May I sit down?”

  She nodded, smiled. “It’s your couch.”

  Ian took a single step in the direction of the couch, then hesitated, looked at her. “Do you want a soda? I do. My…my mouth is kind of dry all of a sudden.”

  Oh, this was fun. This was really fun. Was it possible for a person to get drunk on angora fibers? “I’m okay,” she said, “but you go ahead. Get a soda if you need it.”

  “It’s not that I need—oh, hell, Maddie! What are we doing here? Is this any kind of conversation? I don’t think so. I’m sitting down now,” he announced, then sat, his bare feet flat on the floor, his hands on his knees, his head facing forward. “There. I’m sitting.”

  And Madeline was sitting.

  They were both sitting.

  Sitting silently.

  Not moving.

  Madeline played with her new bracelet, turning it round and round her wrist.

  Ian swallowed hard, coughed into his hand.

  The clock on the mantel struck twelve times, announcing the hour.

  Madeline waited. She knew this man. She’d known this man forever; he’d been a part of her forever. If she said something now, he’d say something back, and after the way he’d tied his tongue into knots last night, she didn’t think having a conversation was the way to go. Better he should give her a quick monologue, without interruptions.

  So she’d just wait. Let him say what was on his mind without any prompting. He’d figure out a way.

  “I, um, I really didn’t explain myself very well last night, Maddie,” he said at last, and she kept facing forward, careful not to do anything that would interrupt his flow of words. “And then you interrupted me, wouldn’t let me finish….”

  Madeline’s eyes widened, and she bit her tongue so that she wouldn’t respond. Especially since he was right. She had interrupted him. She hadn’t let him finish what he had been trying to say.

  “Well…not that we’re going to rehash that,” Ian said, his knuckles white as he squeezed his hands on his kneecaps. “But what I was saying was that I’d been thinking about our relationship—our friendship—the past couple of weeks, and about how I’d feel if you ever weren’t a…a part of my life.”

  Now she did turn, look at him. Not be a part of his life? How could he think such a thing? “I’d never leave you, Ian. I couldn’t.”

  He sort of nodded, pressed the palm of his hand against his mouth, then slipped his hand around so that he was squeezing the back of his neck. Her heart broke for him. “Oh, God, why is this so difficult? Am I that afraid that you meant what you said last night? That you loved me once, but think of me now as just your good friend? Have I blown it with my lousy timing, Maddie? Please tell me I haven’t blown it.”

  Maddie put her hand on his. “You haven’t blown it, Ian. But are you sure? Are you really sure?”

  He took her hand in his, raised it to his lips. “I love you, Maddie. I’m sure I love you. I’m sure I’m in love with you. I don’t know how it happened, when it happened, but if you ever left me I don’t know what I’d do. I just don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Oh, Ian,” Madeline said, blinking back tears. “There’s a difference between the two of us being a habit and being in love. Are you sure?”

  “That’s the question, isn’t it, Maddie? But it’s the one I have to ask you. Are you sure? I know what you said last night, that you loved me a long time ago. But what about now? Could you still love a man too thick to see what’s been right in front of him all these years?”

  “I could try,” she answered, caught between laughter and tears. “I could certainly try.”

  She watched as the tic that had been working in Ian’s cheek disappeared, as his hunched shoulders relaxed…as that crooked smile crept onto his face.

  “Your beeper,” he said, holding out a hand, palm up. “Come on, Maddie, you’re not on call. Give it over.”

  She reached under her sweater, unclipped the beeper from her waistband, handed it to him.

  He took it, turned it off, set it on the coffee table. “Okay, then,” he said, grinning wickedly as he reached for her. “Now…where were we?”

  IAN RUBBED a hand towel over his hair as he came out of the bathroom, a large bath towel wrapped around his waist, and looked at the bed.

  Maddie still slept soundly, probably a combination of having worked at the hospital until nine last night and then having to put up with an ardent fiancé when she finally got home—not that she complained, the sweetheart.

  He’d yet to see any of her new nightgowns or pajamas, although she told him she’d gone back to the mall with Annabelle one day last week and heated up her plastic one more time. But, as far as he knew, her purchases were still in bags dumped on her bedroom floor, and he was getting pretty darn used to seeing Maddie coming toward his bed, dressed in one of his old T-shirts, her long legs bare.

  What time was it? He looked at the bedside clock and smiled. He had to meet Gregg at ten, but it was only eight-thirty. Plenty of time.

  He walked to the bed, bent low over Maddie and stroked her soft curls from her cheek. “Maddie?” he said softly. “Maddie, I need my T-shirt.”

  “Hmm?” She moaned, turning onto her back, blinking her eyes several times, trying to focus as she looked
at him. “You need your—oh, don’t be silly. You can’t wear this. I slept in it.”

  “True, but I need it,” he said, suppressing a grin. “I need it on the floor, hanging from the overhead light, thrown over the back of a chair—you name it. I need it anywhere except on you. It’s blocking my view.”

  Maddie raised her arms, stretched like a contented cat. “You know, Ian, if I’d realized what a thing you’ve got about my breasts, we could have gotten where we are a whole lot faster.”

  “You’re just saying that because it’s true,” he told her as she reached for the towel around his waist. “Hey, who said you could do that?”

  “I can’t?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “Then tell me, why am I awake?”

  “So I can show you something,” Ian said, disengaging her grip from the towel and walking over to grab a magazine from the top of his dresser. “I picked this up yesterday,” he said, returning to the bed, sitting down on the edge as he held the magazine cover so that Maddie could see it.

  “A bridal magazine? You actually stood in line at some checkout counter with a bridal magazine? Good Lord, Ian, you are in love, aren’t you?”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “Was there ever any doubt? Anyway, I was looking through it last night, before you got home, and I found something we definitely have to have.”

  “Oh, really?” Madeline said, pushing herself up against the pillows. “What is it? His and hers silver shoehorns? Because I’m really sorry I broke your plastic one putting on those stupid boots, but I promised to get you a new one.”

  “No, not shoehorns,” Ian said, paging through the inches-thick book until he found what he was looking for. “Here we go,” he said, pulling out a thick card that had been glued to one of the pages, a sample wedding invitation. He handed it to Madeline. “It’s not the usual formal invitation, but it’s perfect for us. Everything else is up to you, Maddie, I promise, but I think I have to insist on this one.”

  She read the outside of the card, then looked at him, tears in her eyes. “Oh, Ian, I love you. I love you so much!” she said, then grabbed him, pulled him down on top of her—which was pretty much where he wanted to be anyway.