Operation Cinderella (20 page)

“It’s about why I ran away from New York, why things got so messed up there.”

Throat tight, he listened in silence as she explained that a male teacher had been coming on to her. Since staying home from school wasn’t an option—not that she hadn’t faked a few stomach flus—she’d figured she’d better get out of the city before things got worse.

Thinking of Macie’s experience, Ross braced himself. “This teacher, did he touch you or hurt you in any way?”

She shook her head. “It was mostly stuff he said that made me feel weird. He told me I was pretty and one of his smartest students, and yet he kept trying to get me to come to his office after hours for what he called ‘extracurricular enrichment,’ but I made excuses not to go. Then he gave me a D on an essay test I’m pretty sure should have been at least a B, and all I could think about was I needed to keep up my GPA for college and I got really stressed and angry. It was all so unfair and—”

“You stole the bracelet.”

She nodded. “I know it was dumb, and I won’t ever do it again, but when Mom grounded me because of the D, I guess I figured if being good was making bad things happen, maybe I should try being bad and see if it would work the opposite way.”

She broke off and Ross wrapped his arm around her even tighter. “I’m real proud of you for telling me. That takes guts. I just wish you’d told your mother or me sooner so we could have fixed things before they got so bad for you.” In the spirit of late being better than never, he fully intended to make sure the sick son-of-a-bitch never walked inside another classroom again.

For the time being, he reminded himself to be grateful. Sam had finally let him back into her life where he never should have left. “I haven’t been the best of fathers, Sam, I haven’t always been there for you when you needed me, but that’s going to change starting now. And also, no more secrets. Deal?” He stuck out his hand as he had when she was really little.

Smiling, she grabbed hold. “Deal.”

As they shook, he acknowledged he still had more explaining to do, that he needed to break the news that MJ, Macie, wasn’t who or what they’d thought. And that she wasn’t coming back.

Before he could, the landline rang. Sam grabbed her crutch and popped up to answer it.

“Let it go, honey,” Ross called out. “Whoever’s calling can leave a message.”

Holding her hand over the receiver, Sam shook her head. “It’s Mom. Hi, Mom.”

Shit, Francesca. Feeling like his brain was fried, Ross shook his head. “Tell her I’ll call her back.”

Sam held out the cordless for him to take. “She says she needs to talk to you now. She says it’s urgent…almost an emergency.”

“Samantha, as far as your mother is concerned, just about every damned thing that’s happened over the past fifteen years qualifies as almost an emergency.”

“Dad, she sounds really upset. She said you’d better get your um…
bum
over to the phone right now.”

Rising and snatching away the phone, Ross said
, “
Francesca, this had better be good. We’re in the middle of a pretty major conversation—which I’ll fill you in on just as soon as I can—but right now I can’t talk.”

“Splendid, then for once you can listen.”

He scrubbed a hand across his tired eyes. “Okay, what’s so all-fired important it can’t wait?”

“MJ,
your
MJ, is the Features Editor at
On Top
Magazine
. Or at least she was.”

“She’s not
my
anything, not anymore,” Ross snapped, “but yes, I know. Her real name’s Macie Graham. I found out a few hours ago. What do you mean by
was
?”

“She gave her resignation this morning.”

He hadn’t expected that. “I guess after turning in that crack muckraking piece on me, she can just about write her own ticket. Where’s she going next, the
New York Times
?”

“Oh, Ross, really, sometimes you can be such a perfect prick. There’s no piece on you, muckraking or otherwise, and thanks to Macie there isn’t going to be.”

That got his attention. “What are you saying?”

“She walked into the morning staff meeting and told her managing editor there was no story, that you were just as wholesome and upfront as your public image, and that she’d wasted both her time and the magazine’s money going undercover to investigate a story that doesn’t exist. Then she announced her resignation and went to clean out her desk.”

MJ had quit her job because of…him? “Why, after working me over for more than a month, would she decide to up and walk away now?”

Francesca let out another of her long sighs. “I’d hoped this might prove to be one of those rare occasions when the blatant truth penetrated your thick Texan skull, but I suppose I shall have to spell it out. She
loves
you, you idiot.”

“She loves me?”

“Yes, she does.” Ross could hear the smile in Francesca’s voice. “Don’t you see, Ross? Macie didn’t go back to New York to ruin you. She went back to save you.”

Ross clicked off the call, feeling as though he’d been sucker punched.

Sam crowded in on him. “What’d she say?”

He hesitated, what was left of the brain housed inside his “thick Texan skull” still working to absorb the news. MJ—Macie—had quit her job, sacrificed her career to save him and Sam from scandal.

“Dad, are you gonna answer or not?”

Meeting his daughter’s determined gaze, Ross asked himself the very same question. It was a lot for a kid to take in. Hell, it was a lot for
him
to take in. Before their new open-and-honest policy, he would have tried putting her off, but looking at her now, he could see that wasn’t going to work. Macie had touched both of their hearts, not just his. He owed Sam the truth.

“Mom wanted me…
us
to know that MJ quit her job at the New York magazine where she works—
worked
.”

Sam let out a whoop. “So when’s she coming back? She is coming back, isn’t she?”

Ross had thought he couldn’t possibly feel any worse, but watching the happiness and hope drain from Sam’s eyes, he knew he’d sunk to an all-time low. “No, honey, she’s not.”

“Have you
asked
her to come back?”

He raked a hand through his hair. “Sam, I can’t, not after she lied to us. She didn’t come here just to be our housekeeper. She came here to get a news story on me for her magazine.”

“Because you said all that stuff on your show?”

“Well, yes,” he admitted, for the first time acknowledging the part he’d played. Had he really imagined he could deliver his Ross’s Rant program after program without receiving any retribution? “The point is, even though she did the right thing in the end by killing the story, she still lied to us and that’s no basis for a relationship.”

“But you and Mom lied to me about being married before I was born. Or at least you didn’t tell me on purpose, which is more or less the same thing as a lie, and I’m not going to hold it against you all for the rest of your lives.
”

Caught, Ross hesitated. “That’s…different. It’s not the same thing at all.”

But Sam wasn’t buying. “Is it?” She folded her arms across her chest and stared at him. “You know what I think?”

Not yet, but he’d bet he wouldn’t have to wait long.

Her little chin shot straight up, a surefire sign she was signing up for no holds barred battle. Looking him square in the eye, she said, “I think you’re a coward.”

Having your kid see straight through your bullshit was bad enough. Having her call you on it…well, Ross didn’t have a script for that. “Watch it, young lady. You’re not too old to be sent to your room, not to mention I can put you on an Internet diet anytime I choose.”

But Sam wasn’t backing down. As much as she loved Facebook and Twitter and Pinterest and video chatting with her friends, it seemed she loved MJ—Macie—more.

“See, that’s what I mean. Any time somebody says something you don’t like, you find a way to either shut them up or pack them off.”

“Sam, look, I know you’re a pretty smart kid—sorry, young woman—but there’s still a lot of stuff about adult relationships you don’t fully get yet. And that’s okay because you have a lot of years ahead of you to make mistakes and learn from them. But some of us—take me for example—have already racked up plenty of mistakes. From here on, I need to start getting a few things right, okay?”

“But you and MJ love each other, I know you do. I’ve seen the way you look at her when you think no one’s watching. You get all gooey-eyed with that stupid smile.”

“Sam, listen up. Sometimes we can love somebody, but that doesn’t mean we can live with her.”

“You mean like you and Mom?”

He hesitated. “Yes, like me and your mom.”

Crossing her arms as though she was the parent and he the kid, she said, “So if I’m hearing you right, what you’re saying is that spending the rest of your life with someone you really, really love who really, really loves you back isn’t as important as being right about some stupid principle? Well, I know I’m still just a kid, but that sounds pretty wacked to me.”

Ross started to answer but stopped himself. “Since you put it that way, I guess it does.”

Looking into his daughter’s eyes, so clear and incredibly wise, he asked himself if maybe she did have a point. Now that he thought about it, maybe the way he’d led his life up to now, expecting 100 percent perfection from others but falling far short of that himself, was pretty “wacked.” Maybe, just maybe, it was time he took a page from the Good Book and started treating others the way he wanted to be treated—with honesty and compassion, forgiveness and yes, love. What better person to start over with than MJ?

“I might be able to get a flight out to New York tonight. Let me call Mrs. Alvarez and see if she can come spend the night.”

“Dad! I’m not a baby.”

He paused to kiss the top of her head. “You’re my baby girl and you always will be.”

Ross checked his phone. Fortunately he’d bookmarked several airline websites in his browser. There was a flight to New York leaving out of Reagan National at 7:05 p.m. That gave him just about two hours.

He shook his head. “It’s the middle of rush hour. The car would have to have wings to make it to the airport in time. I’d be faster on foot.” The latter he said to be facetious, but no doubt about it, DC rush hour traffic was getting uglier all the time.

Sam placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Dad. For an old guy, you run pretty fast.”

Chapter Eleven

East Village, Manhattan

“Let me in, damn it! I want to talk to you. I
need
to talk to you.”

Having buzzed Ross into the building, Macie had chickened out at letting him inside the actual apartment. She drew a shaky breath and called through the closed door, “So…talk.”

“I need to see you face-to-face. Let me in,
please
.”

He didn’t ask again. The silence stretched on, broken only by the drumming of her heart. Macie understood that it wasn’t only her apartment door Ross was asking her to open to him. It was her heart.

She twisted the deadbolt to the unlocked position and pulled back on the chain. Her damp hand wrapped around the doorknob. She turned it, the brass slipping. The door fell back.

Ross stood in the hallway. Wearing a distressed brown leather jacket and with his shirttail hanging loose, he’d obviously gotten there in a hurry. What looked like an overnight bag was slung over one broad shoulder and in his hand was a big greasy brown bag—the Thai food she’d ordered.

His gaze moved over her, from the towel topping her head to the faux leopard print slippers on her feet. “Interesting outfit.”

She folded her arms on her chest, a feeble attempt to hold out against the hurt. “I wasn’t expecting…company.”

He gestured to the bag of food weighing down his one hand. “The delivery guy showed up after you buzzed me in. I’m more of a pizza man myself, but I’ll give Thai a shot. You gonna let me in or do we have to eat dinner out in the hall?”

Face warm, she backed up to let him by.

He walked in, looking around, not that there was much to see: moving boxes, two towers of them; her inflatable mattress; Stevie’s litter box and food bowls. Otherwise the place was stripped bare.

“Nice apartment. Décor’s a little minimalist for my liking, but then again, you’re not exactly the lace doily and flowered curtains type, I guess.”

“I guess not.”

He carried the food into the kitchen, bypassing the boxes, and Macie followed.

Setting the bag down on the counter and his luggage on the linoleum floor, he turned back to her. “I heard you quit your job. I quit mine, too. I didn’t know that meant you were also quitting town.”

She opened her mouth to say, “Your ex-wife doesn’t waste any time,” and then it hit her. “You gave up your show? Why?”

He shrugged. “Being Ross Mannon is no damn fun anymore. I started out studying sociology because I was interested in social relationships, in how people formed groups and then worked to make those groups function. Somehow that got twisted into telling other people what to think, how to behave. I’m tired of hearing myself talk, period. Going forward, I’m going to focus on growing my listening skills and let somebody else do the talking. That goes for my personal life, too.” He stepped closer. “Your turn.”

Fighting tears, Macie answered, “I’m going home to Indiana to spend some time with my sister and folks and while I’m there, I’ll be sending out resumes to environmental groups looking for writers and editors. Working for a nonprofit won’t be nearly as high profile or as lucrative as being the features editor of a glitzy publication like
On Top
, but I’m hoping it’ll be a lot more meaningful.”

Ross still hadn’t made a move to touch her, but the look in his eyes was as penetrating as any touch, maybe more so. “It seems we’ve both been doing a lot of soul-searching.” He hesitated, swallowing hard as if gathering his courage, which was crazy because he was probably the bravest person she knew. “Earlier today I had a heart-to-heart with my daughter, who’s apparently fifteen going on thirty-five. I’m coming to see that if I’m going to expect complete honesty from others, I’d better start dishing out some myself. Mind if I start with you?”

“O-okay.”

“I have a problem I’m hoping you might help me with. I’m crazy in love with you, and I’m not exactly sure what to do about that. Got any ideas?”

Adrenaline pumped through her, enervating her limbs from their lassitude and carrying the seeds of hope. Still, the same obstacles remained. The woman Ross loved might wear her face, but Martha Jane Gray/MJ and Macie Graham were two distinctly different people.

She shook her head. “Oh, Ross, please don’t. It’ll never work. We’re too different. I’m too…
weird
.”

The towel slipped from her head, wet hair spilling onto her shoulders. Reaching out, he lifted a strand and let it slide through his fingers. “I love you, darlin’. I purely love you, and I don’t much care whether you want me to call you Martha Jane or Macie or MJ. You can color your hair any shade of the rainbow, wear black every damned day of the week. It won’t matter to me because I love you. As for the weird part, according to my daughter I’m ‘wacked,’ so I guess that makes us just about the perfect couple.”

Any other man would have gotten straight to business, peeled off her robe, and made a beeline for the air mattress. But this was Ross—infuriating, old-fashioned, sexy-as-hell Ross. Instead, he took her hands in his. “I missed you.”

Tenderness welled and she admitted, “I missed you, too.”

He kissed the inside of her wrist then slowly made his way up to the sensitive space inside her elbow. Sensation skittered along the trail his lips made. Inside her slippers, her toes bunched.

She trailed her fingers along the plane of his lean cheek. “You’d better take me to bed before one of us loses her nerve.”

Still holding her hand, he looked up. “You feminists are all business, aren’t you?” He flashed a smile. “Sorry, Ms. Steinem, but this time we’re doing things my way, the old-fashioned way. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want us to get married.”

After everything, he still wanted to marry her? Shock ripped through her. She tried to hide behind flippancy. “Why, are you pregnant?”

He grimaced. “Don’t be cute. When a man asks you to marry him, there are only two answers: yes or no. And, by the way, I’m not taking any no’s.”

She ran a hand through her tangled wet hair. She was a mess, inside and out. “But Ross, I don’t cook. I barely microwave.”

“Good thing. I was starting to put on weight.”

“And I’m a lousy housekeeper, a serious slob.”

“I’ll hire a cleaning service. I hear you can get a good one for cheap.”

“Ross, I don’t know. I’m not sure we—”

“Stop, take a breath, and answer me one thing.” He paused. “Do you love me?”

Her throat felt so thick, it might have been packed with peanut butter. “You know I do.”

“And I love you, which pretty much synchs it.”

He bent to unzip his carry-on. Fishing inside, he brought out a box—the shoebox holding her red slippers. Lifting off the lid, he reached inside and took out one of the shoes. “I had it fixed.” Kneeling, he beckoned for her to give him her foot. Macie hesitated and then stretched out her leg. “We can go to Tiffany’s tomorrow and pick out the ring together, but for now maybe this can seal the deal.” He slipped off the leopard print bootie and replaced it with the vintage shoe.

Looking up at her, he melted her with his gaze. “You have to admit Macie Mannon has a hell of a nice ring to it.”

Flexing her slipper-shod foot, Macie shook her head. He was absolutely infuriating, absolutely perfect for her. She was sure they had years of sparring ahead of them. She could hardly wait to start.

“Make that Macie
Graham
-Mannon, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“So much for matching monogrammed towels.” He shook his head but his eyes twinkled like the crystals studding her red shoes. “I can see life with you isn’t about to get boring anytime soon.”

It was Macie’s turn to smile. “You’ve got that right, Professor. In fact, you might as well know upfront I plan to keep you on your toes for the rest of our lives.”

Standing, he took hold of her shoulders and pulled her close. “Good, because I seriously love you. And there’s only one thing I’m gonna ask from you once we’re married.”

Warmth splashed her cheek. Damn, she was crying. Smiling anyway, she answered, “Great sex?”

He grinned. “Well, on second thought, make it two things.” His eyes turned serious. “Don’t you ever stop loving me, got it?”

Macie nodded. “Got it. Are you going to at least kiss me now?”

He slid his hand into her still damp hair and drew her closer. “Yes, ma’am, I am.”

His mouth met hers. Soulful and sweet, passionate and patient, the kiss was different from any other they’d shared so far, a pact against holding onto the past, a promise of all the happiness yet to come.

Pulling back, she searched his face. “Is Sam okay with this? I mean, our getting married will affect her a lot. I feel like we should at least talk to her first.”

“Who do you think got me to put aside my pride and come here? That kid is almost as crazy about you as her old man is.”

“That settles it, Prince Charming.” Heart overflowing, she added, “I want the gold ring, the keys to the kingdom, the whole enchilada of the fairy tale.” She flexed her foot again. Was it her imagination or did her toes…tingle? “And the shoes, can’t forget them.”

His megawatt smile was bright enough to light up all the billboards of Times Square. “Call me old-fashioned, but I’m hoping there’s a Happily-Ever-After in there somewhere.”

Taking his face between her palms, Macie smiled. The past was the past, but fairy tales were all about the future.

“Definitely, Ross. Happily Ever After—you can count on it.”