What If (If Only.... #2)(50)

“Griffin, I don’t understand…”

She doesn’t finish because my lips are on hers, soft and questioning at first, until she answers by letting her mouth fall open, inviting me inside. And the hunger returns, not only for lips touching lips or the surrounding air warming with our exhalations. It’s the hunger for more. More with this girl who hitched a ride with a stranger and still hasn’t run for her life. That has to be something.

We break apart, but only because of the whistling and clapping from some of the Michigan Avenue passersby.

“Oops,” Maggie says through a giggle. “Guess we have an audience.”

“Guess so,” I say, pressing a gentle kiss to her puppy-dog cold nose. I’m not ready for my lips to not be touching her skin.

“Maybe that’s our cue to leave?”

I want to kiss her all over again for making her words a question rather than a statement, which can only mean she doesn’t want to stop, either.

“Maybe.” Her hand slips into mine, and she tugs me forward. Or maybe I lead her. Either way, we’re moving again, the Hancock right in front of us and, therefore, the Signature Lounge.

“Quite the tourist location, huh?” I ask.

“It’s beautiful,” she says, eying the skyscraper from head to toe, her gaze landing on the massive Christmas tree that stands outside the building’s exposed lower level.

Her hand still in mine, I lead her down the steps to the base of the tree where tourists amass taking pictures with one of the city’s most popular holiday decorations.

“Do you have your camera?”

She takes it out of her bag, brandishing it as her answer. I pull her closer to the tree and tap a picture-snapping tourist on the shoulder, a man taking a photo of what must be his wife and kids in front of the tree.

“Would you take one of us, and I’ll get one of you with your family?”

He thanks me and hands me his camera. After getting a couple good shots of him and his family, we trade cameras so he has Maggie’s, and we position ourselves in front of the tree.

“So…uh, this is awkward, huh?” she asks, and I understand. She’s taken a few photos of me, but we’ve never been in one together.

“How about if we just smile?” I suggest.

She nods, but it’s her next action that gets me. Standing on my side, she wraps both arms around my midsection, leaning her head on my chest. I wonder if she feels my heart hammering against her, an admission I’m still scared shitless to make.

My head dips to kiss the top of hers before posing for the camera, and tourist dad yells, “That’s a great shot! How about one more?”

Maggie’s shoulders shake with quiet laughter, and it’s contagious. Whatever our photographer captures now, it’s anything but posed.

“Thank you,” I tell him when he hands Maggie’s camera back to me, his wife and two boys standing next to him.

“You’re a beautiful couple,” she says, and then looks at her husband with a grin. “Remember when we were in love like that?”

They both laugh and head back up the stairs. Maggie’s hand sits in mine, but for a long moment we avoid eye contact, letting the woman’s comment fade along with the flush of heat in my cheeks I know will give me away.

When I think enough time has passed to allow us to look at each other again, I turn to face her, asking a question I can’t believe I haven’t asked yet. “Is this your first time in Chicago?”

She nods. “Sort of.”

My brows crease in question. Her smile fades, and her eyes do that far-off thing they did in the car, like she’s looking past me or through me. In seconds her focus returns, and she sighs.

“My grandmother and I came for a girls’ weekend early spring of my freshman year. We took tons of selfies everywhere we went, not caring that we looked like tourists.”

She pauses, taking a couple of slow breaths, and I wait because she’s gearing up for something.

“The trip itself is hazy, but those selfies are my best memories of anything she and I have done together. Because I can see my happiness in those photos and try to relive it. Hers, too, even though it was after we lost my grandfather.” Another pause. “Griffin. I want to tell you something.”

“Oi! Griffin, mate!”

The voice comes from up the stairs, and though it’s been two years since I’ve heard it, I recognize it all the same. This is Jordan’s surprise.

I let Maggie’s hand go and turn toward the voice. Duncan.

He barrels down the stairs toward us, embracing me and Maggie at once.

“For f*ck’s sake, man. We’ve been upstairs in this bloody fancy place waiting for you and your Maggie.” He lets us go, backing up to look at us. “Jordan’s been going on about you bringing a girl. I think part of it is for Noah. He’s a little nervous. But she’s happy for you, mate. Really happy. Anyway, I wanted to come outside, see all the lights now that it’s totally dark, and here you are!”

Maggie’s expression is wide-eyed, a mixture of shock and most likely delight because not smiling in Duncan’s presence is an impossibility.

“Maggie, meet Duncan. We lived in the same dorm in Scotland.”

“Neighbors, actually!” Duncan extends a hand toward Maggie even though he’s already full-on embraced her.