“Hate to break it to you, Maggie May, but I’ve thought about everything a million times over. I know what I want.”
“Okay,” she allows. “Well, then, maybe I need to think things through.”
“Sure,” I answer with a shrug, my mouth around a bite of pizza. I put the steaming goodness back on my plate and chew while I let her absorb my answer.
“Sure? Just like that?”
“Yep, just like that. Take all the time you want to get used to the idea that you and I belong together, Maggie. I’m not going anywhere.”
“So, then, you agree we should think carefully before just leaping blindly—”
“No, we’re going to leap, but you can think about it while we’re leaping… and other things,” I grin.
“You’re insane. I’m ignoring you, Bryant.”
“You can ignore me for now, but eventually you’re going to have to work through this with me, Maggie.”
“So much for no pressure,” she mutters. “You sound like a broken record. Are you going to start the movie or what?”
“Your wish is my command,” I tell her with a wink. I get the feeling that frustrates her more than our conversation. I flip on the television, blindly grabbing the DVD and pushing it into the player. I keep the sound muted until the movie starts. Without cable, plus the fact it’s an old TV, means there’s white static before the movie starts and no one needs to hear that crap.
“You’re so sure of yourself,” Maggie announces, distracting me.
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No, I mean, it’s definitely annoying,” she mumbles, making me laugh. “But it’s not bad.”
“Thanks—I think.”
“It’s just I can’t be that way. I don’t know how to be that way. How do you just set aside all of the heartache from the past and become so sure it will all magically work out this time, Bryant?”
“Baby, the only thing that hasn’t worked between us was that loss tore us up inside. There wasn’t room for love when we were both so full of grief.”
“The grief is still there,” she whispers. “It’s never going away.”
“But you can breathe now, gorgeous.”
“Some days,” she acknowledges. “Others? Not so much.”
“I think that’s normal, Maggie, but we’re both older and hopefully wiser. We can hold onto one another now, instead of pulling away.”
“I’ve gotten good at running away, Bryant.”
“You’ve made it into an art form, Maggie,” I respond, keeping my face gentle so that she knows I don’t mean anything bad.
“Yet, you’re always here,” she murmurs, and from the tone of her voice, I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I think it might be the latter when she looks away from me, choosing to stare at the television.
“Maggie—”
“Oh my God,” she cries.
“What?” I ask, then follow her line of sight, realizing that she’s looking at the television.
The screen is filled with a seventies porno film. I can’t lie and say I haven’t watched porn. I mean, I’m a man who lives alone a lot of the time—despite the fact that Maggie and I do get together often. I was also a horny teen who had to work hard to get Maggie to let me be the man she gave her virginity too. I wasn’t about to look anywhere else but her to give my virginity to either. That was an absolute no for me. I was going to be her first, and she deserved to be mine. Being with anyone else, would have been cheating on her. That’s not who I am—obviously, it’s never going to be who I am. Anyway, I do know it’s a seventies porno because all four men that are currently circling the blonde with the boobs bigger than Ida Sue’s prize watermelons she grows—one of which was eighty-eight pounds last year—are covered in hair akin to Burt Reynolds in his hay-day.
“I’m pretty sure I could braid some of that chest hair into a blanket….”
“Sweetheart, I’m not sure if I should be worried that you’re noticing their hairy chests over their…”
“Oh, I noticed their extremely monster-sized, hard cocks. Although, to be fair, I don’t think that one is hard. He looks more like a long, floppy Mr. Snuffleupagus,” she says, as if she’s discussing the weather.
“Snuffleupagus?”
“Like on television, Bryant. Terry loved that show when he was younger—”
“I know who he is, but I think you might be stretching it a little,” I mutter. “There’s no way he’s that big.”
“Oh stop sounding like you’re pouting. It’s a good thing I see things as being bigger than you do,” she adds, making a pointed look between my legs.
“I never hear you complaining,” I snap.
“And you wouldn’t. I’ve always been very satisfied with all that is you in that department, sweetheart.”
“Gee, thanks,” I mutter, not feeling better about it at all.
“I mean, I don’t even know what a girl would do with all of that. There’s no way it’s going to fit inside of her.”
“I’ll bet you ten bucks it will,” I tell her, and her eyes dilate.
“You seriously want to sit here and watch this? Oh my God, Bryant, if you’re feeling desperate to get me in the mood for sex, you didn’t have to go to these limits.”
“Oh please, I can get you in the mood just by shaking my hips,” I remind her.
“Oh, you poor deluded man. It’s not your helicopter dance that does it for me. That’s not nearly as impressive as you think it is.”
“Ouch.”
“Just the facts. But you are adorably goofy when you do that dance,” she allows, looking like she wants to giggle now.
“Adorably goofy? Damn, the blows keep coming.”
“Your ego can take it,” she laughs.
“I’m not so sure. Anyway, I didn’t put this movie in. It was in the Highlander case.”
“Yikes. You think Titan is into bad seventies porn?”
“Damn it, Maggie! Stop wondering about Titan’s taste in porn. Better yet, stop worrying about Titan’s taste in anything.” That makes her cackle, which is not the reaction I wanted at all. I don’t know what I wanted—maybe her getting down on her knees and offering to worship my cock and beg for forgiveness—but definitely not laughter. “I don’t see anything remotely funny about this,” I respond, and I know I sound like a pouting child—I just can’t help it.
“You’re so touchy. I have no idea how you can be since you know you’re the owner of the only dick I’ve had,” she responds, still laughing—as if she has no idea what she’s just said and what it means to me. She probably doesn’t. I grab her and settle back on the sofa with her in my lap and her sweet body nestled up against me.
“Not even the guy in Dallas?” I ask, needing to know.
Maggie jerks her face away from the television and back to me. Surprise is on her features, and I feel a small tremble move through her body. Her face goes soft and that makes my gut clench. I love that look. She’s given it to me often, usually when we’re making love or after she tells me she loves me. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it—not in a hundred years, not even a million years…not in a lifetime.