37. Let's Be Us Again

Precisely as the morning's pickup game broke up on Wednesday morning, an attractive female walked onto the court with one hand behind her back. Balls stopped bouncing, all conversation and laughter ceased, and fifteen pairs of male eyes immediately focused exclusively on her. Only one of them, however, had her attention—the "gorgeous" one, who stood "6'5" tall with plenty of dark hair and soulful grey-green eyes."

"Are you Roderic?" she asked him.

"Roderic?" Some of the guys howled in mocking tones while several others let out catcalls and wolf-whistles.

Rod had never seen her before. He was surprised and slightly embarrassed by the attention. But he had to admit that she was cute—young, but cute. "Yeah?" he responded, his eyes full of questions.

"This is for you." She handed him a single red rose and a small envelope she'd been concealing.

Stunned, he accepted her offerings and watched her turn around to walk off the court before thanking her almost as an afterthought. Quickly he tore open the envelope and pulled out a note card, which read: I figured the chance of us colliding on the first morning of this term was negligible, so I decided to skip forward to the next step: 93 N.E.2d 554.

As he read, his pulse sped up and his breathing ceased. 93 N.E.2d 554. She'd remembered. Monday's conversation with Cooper now made sense. He pocketed the note and looked around until he found his friend. Cooper was wearing a huge grin on his face. He nodded in understanding, answered the smile with one of his own, and walked off the court.

Mike, having witnessed his reaction, also recognized what this was about. "Calloway…" he called out as Rod was exiting.

Unsure of the type of response he was about to receive, he slowly stopped and turned around, his arms folded in a defensive posture and a look of defiance on his face.

Mike waited until their eyes locked. With a sincere smile he said, "Go get her, champ."

Rod relaxed. "Count on it, Stanton."

He quickly showered, dressed—and shaved—then practically ran to the law library. As he took the stairs to the third floor where the Northwestern Reporter, Second Series, was located, he silently laughed at her chosen method of contact this morning.

He pulled volume 93 from the shelf and turned to page 554, where he knew a case entitled Allen v. Allen would be found. There another note card was waiting for him: If you're the man I think you are, you'll meet me in Room 112 at 10 a.m. In case you've forgotten, it's located in the southeast corner of the first floor.

I haven't forgotten, he said quietly as he returned the book to the shelf. He sat down at the nearest table, stared at her words, and pondered the invitation. He looked at his watch and, with a smile, realized that he was yet again late for his first class of the term. And again, it was all her fault.

Hurriedly he left the library and walked across the quad to where his Constitutional Law class was waiting. His attendance there, however, would be in vain. There was not a chance in hell that anything the professor had to say this morning would do anything other than pass fleetingly through his brain. And that was fine with him. Besides he knew a brilliant tutor if later he needed some assistance.

XXXXXXXXXX

By 9:45 a.m. Mac had things ready in the little study room that somehow had become their own. Like Rod had done months earlier, she had a big vase of roses sitting on the table. Only these roses were all red. She sat down to wait. She had never been more afraid in her life. What if he didn't show? What if they were all wrong and he was, in fact, no longer interested? In spite of the pep talk she'd received from "the Admiral" after his return yesterday morning, she'd fought a million similar questions since leaving Bridgeport yesterday afternoon.

She was soon restless. She folded and unfolded her arms, crossed and uncrossed her legs, leaned forwards and back on her chair, checked and rechecked the time. Finally she forced herself to sit still, breathing deep. This is for you, she repeated. This is for you. Regardless of what happens with him, this is what you need to do for you.

At 10 a.m. sharp, the door opened and Rod appeared. In an instant the room shrunk. The mere sight of him, up close and larger than life, had her silently wondering how she ever could have doubted him—this man who, at one time at least, had loved her deeply. Please, she pleaded, don't let it be too late.

At the same time he took one look at her and all the air left his lungs. She was wearing her sweatshirt. Instantly he fell in love all over again. She was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. His body ached with desire.

"Hey," she said finally looking up into his face.

"Hey," he answered in the same husky tone he'd greeted her with months earlier.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," she told him timidly with a half smile.

He smiled. "Now you know how I felt on the day we met." He pulled a chair from the other side of the table and sat down next to her—close but not touching. He didn't say anything else. But he couldn't take his eyes off her. How he wanted her. He practically had to sit on his hands to keep himself from kissing her into submission. He knew this was too important to give in to his baser instincts. Instead he simply continued to look at her.

She couldn't look away either. Nevertheless, it took her a few minutes to realize that he had no intention of speaking further, but would wait her out. Finally, she found the courage to speak. Tucking her chin slightly while continuing to meet his gaze, she told him, "I had a long talk with Cooper right before the break—or rather he had a long talk with me…."

He could see she was struggling to find her words. He had two choices: He could make this hard on her, or he could make it easy. But only one of those choices was right. She was here. She'd come to him. And that was all he'd ever required. He didn't want a pound a flesh from her. He wanted her heart. He, too, ducked his head a little, matching her expression. "I know," he told her. "I had breakfast with him Monday morning and he mentioned it. He wouldn't tell me what the two of you discussed. But I think I have a pretty good idea."

"Do you hate me?" She asked holding her breath.

"No," he replied definitively, never losing eye contact with her. "I love you."

Right away she relaxed. However, she couldn't control the unwanted moisture that was now partially clouding her vision.

Sensing her emotions, and recognizing his own, he leaned towards her. She did the same until once again their foreheads connected. For a long time they silently remained like this, the gesture today helping each of them to find strength, comfort, healing and understanding.

When finally they came apart, she said, "Why didn't you tell me what was really going on between you and Mike?"

"I tried," he insisted. "Here in this room—on the afternoon we broke up. You just didn't want to listen."

"But what about before? Why not then?" She questioned gently.

"I've asked myself that at least a thousand times. I guess I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, wanted to handle it myself. I certainly didn't want you caught in the middle. I didn't want you forced to choose between us especially when you had to work closely with him."

Mike had been right. He had been thinking of her—protecting her.

He sighed and paused a moment while deciding what else he should say. The bottom line, however, was if he was going to demand she open up with him, he had to do the same. "And I was initially afraid. You'd known him for two years and me for only a couple of months. Subconsciously I was worried that if you were forced to choose between us, you would choose him."

"Which is exactly how it must have appeared to you these past weeks," she acknowledged, thinking about what she'd learned from his note to her mother. "It wasn't like that, I promise. I would never…."

"It's okay," he assured her. "Deep down I think I knew there was nothing between you that way. And Cooper lit into me on Monday for claiming there ever could be. Well, Cooper rode me hard about a lot of stuff. But it's been killing me to see you with him. I hated having him touch you and comfort you like I wanted to be doing. Caused all kinds of unpleasant things I'm ashamed to admit."

"Is that why every time I saw you there was always at least one beautiful, petite girl falling all over you?"

He shrugged sheepishly, his face turning a little red.

"Including Thursday night," she added mischievously.

"What are you talking about?"

"I spent all afternoon talking with Cooper and then Mike. Afterwards I drove aimlessly around New Haven thinking, before ending up at the condo. I knew that I had to see you. But when I approached the door the only thing I saw was you and a girl on the couch having an intimate food fight. You were laughing and appeared happy. It shattered me. Broke my heart wide open."

"What?" He was stunned. "You came over Thursday night?"

She nodded.

"Mac, why didn't you ring the doorbell? It was a study session. We were blowing off a little stress. Yeah, she was flirting with me and I was playing along," he admitted. "But it meant nothing. We were never alone. Patrick and others were there."

"It's okay." It was her turn to reassure him. "Honestly, it was for the best."

"I don't understand. What are you saying?"

"I didn't realize it then, but there was a lot I hadn't worked through about what happened between us and why. I was able to do that over the break. Thanks to my parents—especially Mom." And your gift and note, she thought. She wouldn't bring that up yet. She was saving it for a more appropriate moment.

"I was afraid you'd moved on," she continued. "That it was too late for us. Among other things, they helped me see that it didn't matter—that I needed to see you anyway and try to make things right between us. And if it was too late, that it would be easier to live with the disappointment than with regret."

"Thank you, Kate and Michael," he said raising his hands towards heaven, a big grin on his face. "And Cooper, too."

She shook her head. "No… thank you," she said warmly.

He looked at her inquisitively so she explained, "After leaving your place I was numb. I went back to the law school and worked all night and the next day finishing everything. By the time I got to Bridgeport Friday night I wanted to die. I felt hopeless—like nothing would ever be right again. I hadn't slept in a couple of days—had hardly slept in months. I was devastated because I thought I'd lost you forever."

"Honey, I am so sorry…." He hated to think that he'd caused her such grief and sorrow.

"It's not your fault—that's what I'm trying to tell you," she said warmly with a gentle smile. "Anyway, Mom put me to bed. But before she left my room, she told me that you loved me deeply, that she was certain we belong together and that this was only a bump in the road."

"Kate's a wise woman," he interjected.

"Yes, she is," Mac agreed. "She also told me to think only about the good times—about all the ways you'd demonstrated your love. At first I thought she was nuts. But once I lay down, I tried to do what she suggested… and miraculously it worked. So, thank you," she said softly, laying a caressing hand on his leg.

"It's all true," he told her as he took her hand from his leg and kissed it. "You mean more to me than anything in this world."

"I know," she responded sincerely. "And that made all the difference."

For a few moments neither of them spoke. They basked in the warmth radiating from each other's eyes and their smiles. Eventually Mac broke the silence. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"When we broke up, why didn't you make me listen to you? You do have that power if you choose to exercise it."

"Do I?" he questioned. "I'm not sure anyone has the power to do that once you get a bee in your bonnet."

She removed her hand from his grasp and gave him a petulant glare.

"I'm teasing," he said quickly. He wasn't going to fight with her over stubbornness today. He immediately leaned in and backed up with his words with a soft, provocative kiss, which he had to admit was mostly for him. He couldn't wait any longer. He had to kiss her.

She, too, thoroughly enjoyed it. She'd missed his love and affection so very much.

Afterwards when they were both smiling, she forced her mind back to where it needed to be. "Seriously," she said, "why did you walk away? Why didn't you fight back?"

He could tell by her tone that she understood how important that choice had been. He felt as if their entire relationship depended on his response. "Because," he told her quietly, "love without trust is hollow." He paused to let his words sink in.

"I expected you," he continued, "to be angry. I expected you to be shocked. I knew that you would not initially understand my choice. But do you know what bothers me the most, Mac? It's that you made up your mind so completely without wanting or waiting to hear from me. I couldn't believe that after all we had shared you could think so low of me, and have so little faith in me and in my character."

She nodded and reached out to lovingly stroke his cheek. Her mother was right. This man was indeed strong but also incredibly gentle and surprisingly sensitive. She knew she'd hurt him with her words and attitude, but until now she hadn't recognized how deeply she'd cut him. She was so lucky it hadn't turned his love to hate, and luckier still that he wouldn't hold it against her.

"There's something I want you to understand: Throwing the elbow wasn't about evening old scores. It wasn't about jealousy or competition. Yeah, I wasn't going to take his crap anymore on the court. But mostly my choice was about us, about our relationship, and about what part Mike would play in it—how much control he would have over us. Can you honestly say that his constant negative and derogatory comments had no effect on you?"

"I just ignored him, Rod."

He sighed. "I know you tried—so did I, for a long time. But Mackenzie, his attitude and behavior—at least subconsciously—were impacting our relationship. How you felt about me, and how you responded to me. It was hurting both of us. Your reaction to my elbow is proof of that fact. Think about it," he dared, "then tell me I'm mistaken."

She fought her normal urge to strike back and instead concentrated on his words. While the reasons for her reaction were complex, he wasn't mistaken. Mike's prejudice against him had undoubtedly contributed to her doubts and fears.

"He wasn't going to lay off either one of us until he broke us up or until we put a stop to his antics. I didn't want to put you in the middle. I didn't want to make you choose. But it was time to take a stand. If I'm wrong, then I apologize. However, that's how I see it and that's why I did what I did."

Cooper and her mother had been right about so many things. So had Rod. "You weren't wrong," she said once he'd finished.

"Thank you."

She took a deep breath and asked tentatively, "Where do we go from here?"

"Where do you want us to go?"

"I want you back," she answered without hesitation. "I want things like they were before."

He shook his head. "I can't do that," he told her firmly.

The apparent finality of his words cut her to the quick. "I don't understand. If you love me…." Her emotions again involuntarily began to manifest themselves through her eyes. She tried to look away.

He, however, wouldn't let her. He placed a gentle hand on her chin and forced her to look back in his direction. With his other hand he tenderly brushed away a tear that had managed to escape. "Mackenzie," he said softly. He waited for her to raise her eyes to his. "I do love you. It's because I love you that I don't want things only like they were before. I won't go back. But I will move forward on one condition…."

She looked at him hopefully.

"That we do it together."

After a long pause, he dropped his hand, leaned back in his chair and continued, "But kiddo, for this to work for me, I need to know that you are likewise—symbolically—willing to throw an elbow at anyone or anything that might stand in the way of our being together. Including the demons of the past. I'm willing to walk at your side." He shook his head. "But I'm not willing to be the only one whose heart and soul is exposed."

She knew what he was asking of her. Once and for all, he wanted her to get off the fence emotionally, open herself up to him, and fight for him and their future. Such intimacy would be new to her; and she was scared. Quietly she told him, "I'm not sure I know how to throw an elbow."

He grinned. As usual, he was touched and surprised by the vulnerability he knew she loathed. But he knew how fierce this woman could be once she set her mind on a course of action. If she was ready to join him, their future could be amazing. "So long as you're willing to commit yourself, Ms. Allen, we can work at it together." He was relieved to receive an ear-to-ear smile in return along with a twinkle in her eyes, which lit up the room.

"You drive a hard—but fair—bargain, Mr. Calloway." She reached out her hand to shake on their new agreement.

He took it, but only to pull her close and kiss her long and deep.

When they were both out of breath, he pulled back. However, he continued to hold her hand and she remained firmly on his lap. With humor he told her, "You do realize that you haven't actually apologized to me, nor have you told me how you feel."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him—hard.

"Is that so?" he teased.

She kissed him again.

"Hmm…" he groaned when they finally broke apart, "I like that answer." He nuzzled her throat and asked, "Do you have much class today?"

"Yeah, but…"

"Me, too," he agreed as he raised his head to look at her once more. He reached across the table and pulled a single rose from the vase. Presenting it to her, he said hoarsely, "Let's go home."

"Roderic," she answered suggestively. "I thought you'd never ask."