Hannah's List (Blossom Street #7)(83)

"Me?" she said, her hand pressed to her heart. "She gave you my name?"

"Yes, you. In the beginning I was sure she'd made a mistake--or was playing a trick on me."

Macy laughed. "Either one might be true."

"But there's no mistake, no trick. Hannah was right about everything. You have taught me to laugh again, to enjoy life. When I'm with you I feel happy I'm alive. You are so generous and kind. You make me want to be a better person."

"Oh, Michael... I don't think anyone's ever said anything lovelier to me in my whole life."

I had to make an effort to keep from hugging her and kissing her again. I was afraid that once we started we wouldn't be able to stop.

Macy rested her forehead against my shoulder. "Hannah was one of the wisest, most generous women I've ever known."

I nodded. Hannah had understood that I'd need encouragement to move into the next stage of my life. She'd released me to love again, but she'd gone a step further. I felt a fresh sense of appreciation that Hannah had steered me toward Macy.

"There's an awards banquet a week from Friday," I told her. "I'm nominated for Pediatrician of the Year, and I'd like it very much if you'd come with me." I'd dreaded this evening until I'd asked Macy to join me. It would mean everything to share this night with her, to have her at my side, win or lose.

"This is a formal dinner?" she asked. She seemed more than a little nervous.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"I won't embarrass you?"

"No," I said, laughing at the thought. Macy was Macy. If she chose to show up in a pink taffeta gown and ballet slippers, that would be fine with me. If she wore a clown suit that wouldn't bother me, either, as long as she was by my side.

"Oh, Michael, I can't believe this is happening. You're truly falling in love with me?"

"Yes, Macy."

Her look was serious now, if a bit fearful. "I fell in love with you the night you stayed here after the accident. Any man who'd put up with me, the cats and Harvey is a prince in my book. My prince."

I grinned. "This is the perfect house for a prince to find his princess," I said. A princess in disguise. The accident had been a turning point for me, as well. I remembered the fear I'd experienced when I received the call that Macy had been hurt. The thought of losing her had clarified everything. That accident had shown me what my heart had been trying to tell me from the day I met her.

Because I'm a stubborn, willful man, I hadn't been ready to accept that I'd fallen for Macy. I tried to get her out of my head, out of my life, but nothing had worked. Now I was grateful my puny efforts hadn't succeeded.

The problem was that I'd grown comfortable wallowing in pain, comfortable with the anger I felt at losing Hannah. I was at ease with my grief. But Macy had changed that. Falling in love with her meant I had to let go of my grief and, shockingly, that was hard. I had to reach out toward life and, frankly, I found that frightening.

We had dinner together. Macy insisted on cooking, with my assistance. We worked side by side in her kitchen, laughing and teasing each other, interspersing our tasks with lengthy kisses. The radio played rock favorites from the seventies and eighties, and we managed to dance and sing while we assembled the ingredients for the salmon casserole. Apparently, this recipe wasn't all that different from the one she sometimes made for her cats, because Lovie, Peace and Snowball meowed at us in three-part harmony. Macy put me in charge of the salad. The lettuce was from Harvey's garden.

"Should I set the table?" I asked when I'd finished tossing everything in the large ceramic bowl. Not that I could see the table. Macy had stacked newspapers and books and accumulated stuff on top of it. I started shifting things into new piles on the floor. I made a heroic attempt not to wince as I did so and consoled myself that the floor was scrupulously clean.

The oven timer went off, and Macy removed the casserole, then took over rearranging the books and papers.

After that, she tried the salmon dish and blinked. "Oh, dear, I think I might've mixed up the recipes."

That wouldn't surprise me, seeing how often we'd stopped to kiss during our preparations.

"I'm afraid this might be the one I use for making cat food. Oh, well. It wouldn't be the first time." She laughed. "Just kidding."

"It wouldn't be the first time for me, either," I said wryly. "At least we have a fine Merlot to wash it down."

If someone had asked me what dinner tasted like, I couldn't really have said--except that the casserole was better than cat food. What I remember most was how much I enjoyed being with Macy. I helped wash the dishes after the meal and afterward we watched TV, sitting on the sofa with the three cats piled on our laps. Sammy was keeping Harvey company tonight. Needless to say, we paid far more attention to each other than the medical drama on the screen.

Much later, as I drove home, I realized I wanted every night to be like this. No one could be more shocked than I was at the speed with which things had changed. But despite our differences, despite everything, I was certain of my feelings.

The following afternoon, before I joined Patrick, Ritchie and Steve for our poker night, I stopped at the jeweler's and picked out an engagement ring. I planned to ask Macy to marry me the night of the awards dinner.