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He turned on the radio, hoping the music would provide a harmless distraction after the events of the
last few weeks. That fool Thompson sending Peggy when he asked for backup thinking it would probably
be hilarious, the Zero Matter mess, Whitney Frost, and now…Violet. How did it get to this?
“Peg o’my heart…”
The words drifted from the radio and cut through the jumble of thoughts in his head. Even after all
this time, his mind was still hypersensitive to her name, stopping all thoughts, and if he was honest, his
heart too.
“…I love you, don’t let us part…”
Damn it! Why didn’t he call her back? Even if she didn’t feel for him the way he did for her, no one
else from his life in New York called to check up on him. Which, truth be told, he didn’t have much of a
life in New York outside of work and the guys in the office weren’t overly friendly…
“…I love you, I always knew it would be you…”
He recalled walking into the SSR on his first day, seeing her, and knowing that he was a goner. She
radiated confidence and poise despite mainly being relegated to fixing the coffee or covering the
phones. He’d heard the rumors of what she did during the war and was astounded that they wouldn’t
put her talents to good use.
“…Since I heard your lilting laughter…”
His joke in the filing room about not being able to find his leg, their banter about gambling against
each other…her smile, her laugh could almost make him burst with excitement.
“…Peg o'my heart
Your glances make my heart say ‘How's chances?’…”
How’s chances, indeed. First, there was her mourning for Captain Rogers, then his leaving for LA, and Violet, and now Wilkes. She did refuse his offer of drinks back in New York, but there was also that moment in the surveillance van. He doesn’t know what to think.
“…Come, be my own, come make your home in my heart…”
Well, a guy could dream.