GianMarco by Eve Vaughn Page A

you should have this conversation with Camryn. I need to get
     going, but let’s shoot for lunch on Friday. I’ll call you before then, okay?”
    “Okay, sweetie.” She hung up.
    Maggie stared out the window of her apartment. To listen to everyone tell it, she
     was a big pathetic loser. She didn’t want to be that person anymore. Maggie wanted
     to smile because she was really happy and not because she only wanted people to think
     she was. She wanted to be loved like everyone else, too. And she realized first step
     was learning to love herself. Somewhere along the way she lost sight of who she was
     and had made her world all about her family. It was time for her to discover the Maggie
     who used to dream and who had aspirations of her own. It was time for her to be her
     own person and stop living in fear. Though the future was uncertain, she was ready
     to tackle it head-on.
    She walked over to the bureau beside her bed and pulled open the top drawer. She
     took out the divorce papers she had been holding onto for the past three months, then
     picked up a pen and signed them.
     
     

 
    Chapter Five
     
    Maggie waited for Darren at a booth in a pizzeria only three blocks from where she
     worked. She hummed to herself as she scanned through the menu, thinking that she should
     probably order a salad, but the smell of marinara sauce and mozzarella teased her
     nostrils until she couldn’t take the torture any longer. She could have a salad anytime.
     She wanted a pizza!
    Between Darren’s school schedule, his part-time job, and the recent upheaval in her
     own life, Maggie didn’t see her son as often as she used to. She dearly loved both
     of her children, but Darren would always hold a special place in her heart as her
     firstborn.
    She felt empowered today. This morning on the way to work, she had mailed the signed
     divorce papers back to Eugene. Now that she had done it, she couldn’t imagine why
     she had been holding off for so long. Everyone was right: Eugene was no good and Shelly
     was welcome to him. It still hurt like hell at times to think of the callous way he
     had ended their twenty-three year marriage, but that was now a closed chapter in her
     life. Though Montana would probably call her a fool, Maggie didn’t want one red cent
     from him. She needed to prove to herself that she could make it on her own without
     anyone’s support, and to send a message that Maggie Williams was a survivor. Operation
     Forget-About-That-Jerk was now in progress.
    The only cloud in her sky was GianMarco Grimaldi. He was an enigma she couldn’t quite
     figure out. After careful consideration, she had decided she would stay on at G and
     T Associates. There was no point in cutting her nose off to spite her face, and besides,
     the incident in her apartment seemed so surreal that it felt like she had imagined
     the whole thing. She couldn’t help but wonder what he could possibly want with a forty-year-old
     mother of two adult children when he was young and could probably have any woman he
     wanted. It wasn’t that she thought she was bad-looking, but she couldn’t help but
     be a little self-conscious about her weight at times because she knew that some men
     found it a turn-off. Eugene had certainly made no qualms about expressing his distaste
     in her figure. Maybe GianMarco was the type to chase anything in a skirt, even if
     she imagined there was some intangible connection between them.
    When she reported to work the day after the incident, he had seemed surprised to see
     her, but didn’t comment on her return beyond a ‘welcomed back’. He had been cool and
     professional to her ever since. GianMarco did nothing to indicate that anything had
     ever happened between them, so she followed suit. Things were less complicated that
     way.
    There were times, however, when he would walk by her desk and she would remember the
     way his hot mouth had felt against her aching breasts, or the way he’d stared