Maybe Now (Maybe #2)(78)

“Oh, God,” I say out loud.

Sydney glances at the door and then back at me. “You want me to answer it?”

I shake my head. “No. I’ll do it.”

She waits for me to stand, but I don’t. I just stare at the door, unmoving.

“Maggie.”

“I know. I just… I don’t think I’m ready for introductions yet. Can you…”

She nods, pulling me out of my chair. “I’ll disappear,” she agrees. “You answer the door.”

Sydney gives me a quick shove toward the door as she rushes off toward Ridge’s bedroom. Jake knocks again, and I’m scared if I don’t open the door right away, Warren will walk out of his bedroom to answer the door. Or worse…Bridgette.

That thought swings me into action. I open the front door, and Jake is here, standing right in front of me. He’s taller than I remember. Cuter. I suck in a breath at the sight of him, but I don’t give myself time to give him the onceover. I grab his hand and pull him inside the apartment and across the living room. I don’t release his hand until we’re safely alone in my bedroom. I turn and shut the door behind us, leaning my forehead against it. I blow out a breath, still facing the door. I’m slightly more at ease now that we’re out of the danger zone, but still nervous as hell as I slowly turn and face him.

He’s standing a couple of feet in front of me, looking down at me like he’s trying not to laugh.

God, he’s cute. He’s wearing jeans and a navy blue graphic T-shirt with an anatomically correct heart on the front of it. Funny. I stare at the shirt for a moment, admiring how good he looks in it. Then I look him in the eye and stand up a little straighter. I clear my throat.

“Hi,” I say.

He tilts his head a bit, curiosity clouding his expression. He’s probably wondering why I rushed him into this room like there were zombies chasing us. “Hello, Maggie.” I can see all the questions he isn’t asking as he narrows his eyes, lifting a brow.

“Sorry. I just wanted a minute alone with you before introductions.”

He smiles, and I just want to sink to the floor. Not because his smile melts me, but because I’m so embarrassed about the conversation I’m about to have with him. I’m embarrassed by the condition of this bedroom. I’m embarrassed that he’s a doctor who seems to have all his shit together, whereas my life is currently akin to a broke college co-ed’s, living in a sparse dorm room.

Jake’s hands slide into his back pockets and he glances around the room—at the mattress on the floor. He looks back at me. “Is this your bedroom?”

“Just until tomorrow. All my stuff is in a U-Haul downstairs. I’m moving to another unit in the complex.”

He laughs a little, like he’s relieved to know I own more than just a pathetic mattress pushed against the wall of an empty room. He’s a few feet away from me, but I still have to look up at him. I suck in a shaky breath after I respond to him. He notices.

“You seem nervous,” he says.

“I am,” I admit.

He smiles at my honesty. “Me, too.”

“Why?” I blurt out.

He shrugs. “Same reasons you are, I assume.”

I know for a fact we aren’t nervous for the same reasons. “Please,” I say, rolling my eyes with a laugh. “You’re a cardiologist raising a half-grown child. I’m just a college student with roommates, sleeping on a mattress on the floor of an empty room. I can assure you we are not nervous for the same reasons.”

Jake stares at me a moment, contemplating my words. “Are you saying you feel inferior to me?”

I nod. “Just a little,” I lie. Because I feel a lot inferior to him.

He releases a quick laugh, but he doesn’t respond. He just takes a step away from me and looks around the room again, turning his back to me. His focus falls on my mattress for a moment. He looks back at me over his shoulder and then half-turns, reaching out his hand.

I look down at his hand, beckoning for mine. I slide my hand into his, admiring the strength behind his grip as he closes his fingers around mine. He pulls me with him, walking toward the mattress.

He sits down, scooting to the middle of the mattress, resting his back against the wall. He still has a grip on my hand, so he pulls on it, urging me to follow suit. As soon as I begin to kneel, he pulls one of my legs over his lap so that I’m straddling him.

Not what I was expecting.

We’re almost eye to eye, but I haven’t relaxed yet, so I’m slightly taller than him in this position. He leans his head back against the wall, looking up at me.

“There,” he says, smiling gently. “Now, you’re in a position of control. It should make you a little less nervous.”

He rests his hands on my waist. I feel some of the tension leave my shoulders when I realize what he just did. I smile as I’m reminded how patient and kind he is. He returns my smile, and I suddenly feel like melting to the floor again, but not out of embarrassment. This time I want to melt because he’s so damn perfect, and it’s making me blush.

Also, I can’t help but be relieved that he didn’t show up with a high-heeled French redhead. I exhale. “Thank you. This helps.”

He breaks eye contact and finds my hands, threading his fingers through them. “You’re welcome.”