No Magic Moment Read online

  Those moments—and all the incredible ones in between—glittered in the depths of her eyes, trembled across both her lips, echoed in every breath that stuttered from her…and coiled in every knot in my gut.

  “Until last summer, I didn’t know how to do things any other way, either.” Her shoulders hunched in as she started kneading at her ring. “I didn’t know if I had the capacity to even love someone, let alone to show it, to say it. But you—” A hard breath halted the rip in her voice. “You came along and changed all of that, Michael. You helped me. You taught me.” She lifted her head, stabbing me with the emerald dagger of her stare. “You…changed me.”

  I didn’t look away. Fuck, did I want to. “Margaux—”

  “Don’t.” She lunged up, tearing at my shoulder. “Don’t you dare throw up your love as an excuse now, god damn it. I changed, Michael. I changed—because of you.” She pushed off, curling her arms in, standing away once more. “I love you so much, it hurts. This hurts. It hurt when I opened my heart to you, my secrets to you, and when I chased you across the airport, deciding to fight for you. It hurt in all the scariest ways when I sat in the waiting room at county lock-up, praying they’d let you out of that horrible place. It sure as fuck hurt when I got into the car yesterday and hauled my ass up this mountain, knowing I was getting ready to put my soul on the chopping block again—for you. For us.”

  Her voice shuddered once more. She visibly gritted her teeth and her throat vibrated with deep, hard swallows.

  I…stood there like a nimrod.

  My dim consolation rested in watching her breathe, because I couldn’t even do that. Her pain was a palpable force on the air, clinging like bitter smoke.

  She screwed her shit together faster than me. Pivoted on her heels, storming back into the house only to emerge ten seconds later. Her bag was in one hand, the Maserati’s keys in the other.

  “What…are you doing?”

  “Following orders, Mr. Pearson. Getting the hell out of here. Going home.” She took the three steps to move right into my space again. Leaned in and up, her breath fanning my neck, as if to nuzzle against me in her favorite way. My arm rose to keep her close, though my fingers visibly shook—

  Before she tore away, choking down a sob.

  “Margaux—”

  She twisted her wrist free from my grip. “I won’t be back again, Michael. Not like this. Not ever again like this.”

  She didn’t turn back to finish it. Just let me watch her shoulders sink and her head fall between them.

  “Justify it all you want now. Go ahead and tell yourself how noble you are for saving me. But let me make one thing perfectly clear. If you remain here, Michael Pearson, you’ll have saved only yourself. Have fun becoming that monster you talked about—because the biggest part of me is still right in the middle of your chopping block.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Margaux

  “Hey, Alfred? I’ll just leave the Maserati’s keys on the entry table, okay?”

  Alfred’s steps echoed on the marble floor of Kil and Claire’s front foyer. Despite the formality of the setting and the man, I’d relaxed a little just by stepping through the door of this place.

  God knew, I needed all the help I could get.

  “That will be fine, Miss Asher. I’ll let Mr. Stone know you returned the car when he comes home tonight. I would’ve been happy to come into town to pick it up, though. I’m sorry you drove all the way out here.”

  “It’s fine, Alfred. I needed the head time, you know? May even hit the beach on my way back, since I’m already up this way.”

  “Very well, Miss Asher.”

  “Tell my brother thanks again for the loan. It’s a sweet ride.”

  “So he tells me, ma’am.”

  I paused near the front door to take in the ground floor expanse of Claire and Killian’s Rancho Santa Fe home—and despite my misery, I smiled. Even though no one was home, there was unmistakable warmth and open invitation here, drawing me in, making me long to stay. The love they had for each other permeated everything in the place. It was so strong that even an outsider felt it when standing inside their front door.

  Love. Warmth. Magic.

  They had it and I wanted it.

  This wasn’t a jealous or petty whim like I once would have had when coveting some trinket or pair of shoes. This was something I’d never experienced in a home before, something deep and devoted and connective. And it was something I craved with Michael. I yearned for people to feel this inside our home.

  Our home.

  A dream that would never be.

  “Fuck.” I burned to repeat it a dozen times but bit the inside of my cheek, checking it. What good would it do? For the first time in my life, I’d admitted the longing to create a home with another person—a place where people would come and enjoy spending time with us, where it wasn’t all about me. A place where I no longer needed to be the star of the show. I wanted to share the spotlight. With Michael.

  The man I still loved so much, it was a physical ache. The man I was still so sure of, I spoke it out loud, still standing there in the foyer.

  “Yes.”

  This was what I wanted. Our home. Our connection. Our love.

  Could I wait for it…even for forever?

  I left the house, closing the door quietly before meeting Andre in the driveway. My head was heavy and hurting, like I’d been whammed by a sledge hammer. Well, now I knew what I wanted, but was so lost on how to get there.

  We had to handle the shit with Declan first. Yes, we. I’d start tomorrow morning by calling Killian. Since our little chat in his office, I’d snapped together some conclusions about the homework he’d done regarding Michael’s uncle. First, there was no way Kil would drop that shit at mere homework. The man had assigned a whole team to the damn subject by now, I was sure of it. That led to an unnerving number two. No news wasn’t often good news. If Kil’s people had learned anything useful that would give me an inroad back to the stubborn ass on the mountain, I was sure he would’ve shared it yesterday. But maybe he knew something. Anything.

  If not, then I had to figure out another way to convince Michael that we could get through this. For now, I chose to ignore the memories of how I’d last seen him, with shadows of doubt in his eyes and lines of desperation across his brow.

  His gaze of goodbye.

  That was the tragic story of us. One step forward, two steps back. I wondered if the pattern had continued for so long, we were more lost now than three months ago—attempting to figure shit out after that first night of amazing sex at his old place.

  “You ready to head back home?” Andre’s deep voice shook me from my musings. “On second thought, you have that ‘I need retail therapy’ look.”

  Shit. The guy knew me so well, it was unnerving. He emphasized the offer with his signature half smile, my favorite expression on him. It was also his look when he wasn’t sure about overstepping the line between our business relationship and friendship.

  I threw back a glower, unwritten assurance that all was okay. I needed a friend right now more than a minion. “I’m going to let that one slide—only because I’m too exhausted to kick your scrawny ass today.” I knocked my shoulder to his—well technically, my head—which bumped his massive biceps.

  He turned, mocking his self-defense. “Yes, Miss Margaux.” He spilled a rich laugh, not bothering to contain it. “Where to, then? Highway 101 in Encinitas? The Forum in Carlsbad? You don’t get up to North County that much. Why not make the best of it?”

  “Andre.” I stopped beside the BMW, looking up at him with purpose. “Will you marry me?”

  It was fun, weird and sad to witness the million and one thoughts running through his mind. He finally opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. He was measuring his words so carefully I didn’t dare tell him I was kidding.

  “Miss Margaux,” he finally offered, “I’m flattered, truly—but first there is the issue of Mr. Michael. He is n
ot only one hundred percent in love with you, he is my friend. And you see, there is a code about that.”

  I bit my inner cheek to force a solemn stare. “Code?”

  “A code among men. We don’t poach on our brother’s territory, you see.”

  “Oh. Well yes, I see.”

  “Secondly, there is the issue of how much I care for you. I would never subject you to a life with me. You truly are a princess, Margaux. You deserve to be treated like one, whether you believe that in here”—he touched a warm finger to my temple—“or in here.” He tapped the same finger to my sternum. “It’s the truth, girl—but I still cannot marry you. Lastly, and most importantly of all, you can’t cook worth a damn. This man needs to eat—and none of that organic, super food, quinoa, grass-fed, wonder-tofu, tastes-like-cardboard crap you call food!”

  I burst into giggles. His levity, on top of the wonderful things he’d already said, were what my day needed. Regrettably, it had only worsened my immediate challenge. I was still an emotional basket case, with an epic public meltdown imminent. Knowing Andre, that was why he’d ended his list on that special note. This man was so much wiser than he let on. When my life was fully squared away and I cornered Claire for some stress-free girl time—in short, about ten years from now—I had to talk to her about finding a perfect match for Andre.

  But first things first.

  My life.

  Squared away.

  “Okay, big boy. Let’s hit the road.”

  Andre grinned. “Where to?”

  “Torrey Pines.”

  “Golfing? You didn’t tell me to schedule a tee time. And since when do you play?”

  “Don’t be an ass. I mean the beach.”

  “Excuse me? Who are you and what have you done with my sweet boss lady?”

  I whapped his brawny shoulder. “Pushing it, buddy. I have some serious thinking to do, and since it worked last time…” It had also become a special place for Michael and me, period. I actually liked hiking there now—a little—but would let that be a little surprise to Andre, who already snuck a peek at the dashboard’s temperature readout. Clearly, he was worried about a repeat of the last time he’d dropped me off at the beach route’s trailhead, before I’d nearly died hiking back up to the parking lot.

  “Stop worrying, you big mother hen. I’ll be fine. We can pull over and get a few bottles of water.” I scrambled into the car.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he grumbled while sliding into the driver’s seat.

  Within minutes, we eased onto the 5 Freeway, heading south toward La Jolla.

  Andre still frowned a little when I got out at the trailhead but loosened up once I pulled a blanket out of the 750i’s trunk, took a big swig of water, then sprayed on some sun screen. Last but not least, I switched out my heeled boots for easy sneakers.

  The hike down to the beach was easy and even invigorating. I spread the blanket on the sand. After kicking off my sneakers, I planted myself in the middle of the square.

  At first, I simply watched the waves chase each other onto the shore, then back out toward the ocean. Over and over the cycle repeated, absorbing me into its timeless rhythm. The sound of the water crashing was my favorite part of the beach experience. Droplets of ocean spray carried in on the breeze, misting my face just enough to keep me cool.

  Tilting my head back, I let the brilliant light soak into my skin. I visualized myself as a tree, being nourished by the sun’s rays, made stronger by the radiance I absorbed. I didn’t usually go for the new age bullshit but I desperately needed some inner peace. I had to find the strength to move forward, develop a game plan that was going to work for me and Michael. Failure wasn’t an option. It couldn’t be.

  Besides, this just felt good. The sun was warm and forceful, literally filling me with new strength as I continued to picture gaining its power. I was a survivor. I was capable. I could hold us up if Michael wasn’t willing to. I needed to show him that I wasn’t afraid of Declan or the scary-mafia-whatever bastards, and that if we had to, we’d figure a way to beat them at their own game.

  But we had to do it together.

  Yes.

  I pulled up his beautiful face in my mind.

  No.

  The only memory I could access was his face from this morning. The sorrow of it. The finality of it.

  My newfound light crashed into darkness.

  I needed to be stronger. I had to be. Why couldn’t he see we could conquer anything we set our mind to—any enemy or monster that threatened to tear us apart? Why didn’t he believe in us the way I did?

  My thoughts commingled like the colors on the old Rubik’s Cube I just couldn’t master. I needed to compartmentalize in order to see things clearly. But was that the answer I didn’t want to face? Had it been staring me down all this time, and finally, there was just no other place to look but dead ahead, right at it?

  Michael didn’t believe in us the way I did. Was he scared to? Unable to? Was the answer even relevant? Simply put, I loved him more than he loved me.

  He wasn’t breaking up with me to protect me. He was just—breaking up with me.

  Cue the fucking waterworks.

  I fell to my side. Curled my knees to my chest. And like the foolish girl I felt, bawled my eyes out. Ugly sobs. Heaving breaths. A grief I hadn’t fully allowed to invade—until now.

  I cried until the sun went down—or at least it seemed like that.

  Eventually, I realized someone was hovering nearby. No. More than that. Standing at the edge of my blanket, blocking the sun’s rays. Well, shit. I didn’t want to see or speak to anyone. But because this day wasn’t hideous enough, the shadow wasn’t changing. Didn’t move.

  I forced myself to sit up, swiping tears from my cheeks. I had to shield my eyes while looking up, but the glare made it impossible to see the person only three feet in front of me.

  Finally, the visitor got a clue and moved to sit on the blanket, right beside me—a little too close, actually. As I scooted by an inch or two, my eyes began to refocus—and a gentle voice reached my ears.

  “You look like you could use a friend.”

  “You—”

  My mouth worked, trying to produce words, but everything was strangled in my throat as I took in the woman’s sun-streaked hair, dancing green eyes and warm smile lines—none of which had vanished.

  “You—”

  “Hello, sweet girl.”

  “Oh, my God.” Was this happening? Was she actually sitting here, the woman who’d only made cameo appearances for most of my life? “C-Caroline. It’s really you…right?”

  She brushed strands of hair off my face. “Yes, sweetie. It’s really me.” Her stare…she didn’t just look at me. She peered through me, as if needing to read every thought in my head. Normally, I’d think it was creepy. At the very least, irritating as hell. But I only felt…cherished. Special. Completely perfect in her eyes.

  A fresh flood of tears burst out.

  Caroline drew me into her arms, crooning quiet sounds of comfort and strength. “It’s all right, my little star. Sshhh. It’s going to be all right.”

  I burrowed against her shoulder. “How—how did you know I’d be here?”

  “I’ve always known where you were. I’ve never left you. I just couldn’t come near because of—”

  “That witch who dabbled at being a mother? Yes, I know what happened, how she turned you out for getting too close to me.”

  “She’s not here anymore. I am—and I always will be. I’ll never, ever leave you.” Her grasp closed tighter but her voice grew shakier. “You are the most important thing in my world, my beautiful girl. I knew it—I swore it—from the moment they put you in my arms, and I first laid eyes on your beautiful face.”

  Tears. Breath. Thought. Stopped.

  Shock. Amazement. Joy.

  Oh

  my

  God.

  Now what?

  “I—” I pulled back, gawking at her. In so many ways, it was like pee
ring at an older version of myself. “How the hell did I not see it before?”

  She laughed. The sound was feminine and cute, but flared with snark—just like mine. “Of course you knew, my little Mary.” She pressed three fingers to the space over my heart. “Deep in here. Where it mattered the most.”

  “Holy shit.”

  I threw myself at her, hugging her so tightly that if a hurricane hit the beach right now she wouldn’t be ripped from me again. After she joined a lot more tears to mine, I managed to rasp the one word in the world I never imagined speaking with love.

  “Mom.”

  She burst with another sob, the sound that belonged to dammed-up emotions finally granted freedom. “I’ve waited twenty-seven years to hear that, honey. And every second was worth it.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Michael

  “Dude. This is amazing.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Sorry,” I explained, cocking a brow at Killian, “I just don’t think I’ve ever heard you say dude.”

  “Surfer Jesus has to represent sometimes.” He finished it with a grin, still circling his stare around the small underground cavern I’d led him to. Watery patterns danced across his face courtesy of the LED lights Carlo had mounted to the walls, though they were the only signs of recent technology down here. On the other lip of the spring, about thirty feet away, a grotto was consumed by an electric pump that would’ve been at home during the days of Reaganomics and Flashdance.

  “What does surfer Jesus think about all this?” I asked.

  “He’s impressed,” Kil returned. “There’s workable infrastructure here. I think we can access the spring with very little impact to the orchard.” His face tightened as he went on with noticeable care, “The only thing that might have to be relocated…is the main house.”