by Bay, Louise
“What did you end up wearing?” Grace said. “Please tell me you put a skirt on. Men like skirts.”
“I’m wearing shorts.”
“That hot combination you do with the buttoned-up blouse and the casual, bordering on slutty shorts?”
I grinned, secretly pleased with the endorsement. “They’re not slutty. Just short.” Okay, they were a little bit slutty.
Amanda was only part of the reason I’d borrowed Grace’s new car to drive to Connecticut. I wanted to see Max. To figure out whether the ache in my bones would ease when I saw him. To work out whether it was love or just regret that tugged at my heart.
Men before Max had always been a stop on the way to something else. I’d always seen the way out, never had both feet in. With Max I wasn’t constantly seeking the exit. I’d been happy to be in the moment with him, share things, talk, enjoy just being together. My feelings for him had snuck up from behind me and only screamed boo when Max had already gone.
“Okay, well, you won’t need it, but good luck.”
How could she say that? There was a real possibility Max would be furious with me. I’d walked out of my job without giving any notice. I’d screamed at him in his office, then turned off my phone and ignored every one of his messages.
Worst of all, Max hadn’t really done anything wrong when he’d agreed to take me off the team. Maybe he’d been a little insensitive, but my relationship with my father wasn’t Max’s battle to fight. It wasn’t as if the only reason King & Associates had landed the pitch was because I worked there.
My stomach churned at the thought of no longer being an employee at King & Associates. I’d worked so hard to get there. But I wouldn’t have any regrets. I’d met Max and whatever happened between us, I’d always be grateful for that. It had forced me to deal with my father. I’d thought King & Associates would help build my career, but really it had helped patch up my soul.
As I pulled up in front of the gray clapboard, two-story house, my nerves took hold. I didn’t know the man who lived here. The place looked so . . . domestic. There was a field to one side, and what looked like a barn on the other. I counted four cars in the gravel driveway. Wow. Were they having a party?
I reached into the backseat and pulled out the sparkling cider I’d brought along with my makeup.
“Hey, Harper.”
I climbed out and saw Amanda waving at me from the doorway. I smiled, unable to wave back because I had my hands full.
“Hey, how are you?” I called, looking up over the roof of the car. “Are you nervous?”
“Not nervous at all,” she said as I locked the car. “Especially not now that you’re here.”
Voices grew louder as Amanda and I crossed the slate-floored entry. The home had a completely different feel from Max’s office. Photographs of Amanda dotted the walls. The doors, frames, and ceiling beams were stained a warm honey and the space was large and airy with open doors leading out onto a pool area. As we headed toward the kitchen, Max came into view.
My ache for him disappeared, my body sagging with relief as if it had been starved of water and had finally found an oasis.
Aware of everyone around us, I avoided eye contact. If he was angry with me, I wasn’t sure how I’d react.
“Harper,” he said. “Come in. You’re kind to come all this way. I’m sure I don’t know what Amanda did to deserve it.” He didn’t sound in the least bit angry, so I looked up to find him grinning at me. I tried to cover my delight, nodding as I glanced behind him at two women looking at us.
His sister Scarlett I’d met before. Who was the other one? I knew Amanda’s mother couldn’t make it back from Europe. Was I too late? Had Max moved on? No, it must be Violet. She looked like Max and Amanda.
“Come on upstairs. We don’t have long,” Amanda said.
“You have two hours, which is plenty long enough to introduce Harper to your aunts,” Max said.
I was sure my relief showed in my sharp exhale. Yes, aunts. “Hi,” I said, offering a half wave. They both slipped off their barstools to greet me.
“I’m Scarlett—we met in the elevator,” the blonde said as she pulled me into a hug as if I’d known her my whole life.
“I’m Violet, the youngest.” Violet’s hug was slightly less effusive but a little more familiar than I’d expected.
I got the distinct impression I’d been the subject of a discussion between the two of them.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Max asked.
I held up the cider. “I brought something.” I glanced between Max and his daughter.
“You should know what to do when someone brings you a gift,” Max said.
Amanda covered her mouth with both hands, then said, “I’m so sorry. That’s really kind of you and you didn’t have to.”
She was such a sweet girl. “It’s my total pleasure,” I replied.
“Why don’t you get into the shower? Violet can bring you some cider when she comes to do your hair.”
Amanda raced upstairs, leaving me in the kitchen with Max and his two sisters. I’d expected to have Amanda as a buffer while I was here. And I didn’t know whether Max’s friendly veil would drop once she’d left the room. I took a breath. I could do this. Max deserved the humble pie I was about to dish up.
“I have the grown-up alternative to sparkling cider if you’re interested?” he asked.
“What’s that?” I couldn’t help but smile. Not seeing him for so long, I’d forgotten the pull. Forgotten how every time I was around him, I wanted to touch him. And now that I was here I wanted to talk to him, apologize, ask him if it was too late to go back to how things had been between us.
“Champagne,” he said with a grin. He didn’t seem mad, but I’d seen him at the lunch with my father; he was great at making people feel comfortable. Was he just putting on an act?
“Did someone drop you on your head?” Scarlett asked. “I’m always asking for a glass of champagne.”
Max shrugged. “What can I say, I’m not wasting champagne on my sister.” He shot me a glance as he pulled out three glasses and set them on the counter.
Was he trying to impress me? I rolled my lips together, trying to hold back a grin at just the thought he might be.
“It’s so nice of you to come out all the way from the city,” Violet said, leaving the sentence a little unfinished. Did I look ridiculous coming all this way for a fourteen-year-old girl I barely knew? Did she know that although I genuinely wanted to make tonight special for Amanda, I wanted to see Max? I needed to apologize.
I glanced around, wanting to tell Max I’d come for him as much as I had for his daughter. “Amanda’s a lovely girl and . . .” I shrugged, unable to get the words out quite yet.
“Well, I know that my brother is pleased you came.”
My heart squeezed. Was Max pleased I was here? Because of Amanda or because he wanted to see me?
Max handed me a glass and as I took it from him our fingers brushed. I glanced up at him and he grinned. Should I pull him to one side and apologize now?
“Violet, Harper,” Amanda called from upstairs. “I need my glam squad. I’m out of the shower.”
I giggled. “Glam squad? She’s fourteen, right?”
Max rolled his eyes. “Going on twenty-seven.”
“Coming,” I yelled, bending to pick up my bag. I hated to see overly made up teenagers, and I knew Max didn’t want his daughter to look like the twenty-seven-year-old she thought she was, so alongside some bits of my makeup, I’d brought a tinted moisturizer and a glittery lip gloss. Add in a bit of mascara and I didn’t think she’d need much else.
“I’ll follow with the drinks,” Max said pulling out a tray as Violet and I made our way upstairs. As we passed a table on the landing, I bent to look more closely at a wedding picture.
“Beautiful,” I said to myself. Amanda, dressed as a flower girl, stood alongside a bride and groom I didn’t recognize.
“Pandora and Jason�
�s wedding,” Max said from behind me.
He had his ex’s wedding photo up in his house? “Wow, that’s . . .” I wanted to say weird because it was, but it was also sweet and open hearted and all the things I knew Max to be.
“Pandora’s beautiful,” I said, turning to look over my shoulder at Max. He nodded as if it were just a statement of fact.
Amanda’s room was everything I’d expected of a normal fourteen-year-old girl. A Pitch Perfect poster over her bed, a blue-and-white-striped bedspread, and full bookshelves running across the length of one wall. Despite the house being large, it was all about family. There were no airs or graces.
“How about a face mask while Violet dries your hair?” I suggested.
Amanda grinned. “That would be awesome.”
Max set the tray down.
“Thanks, Dad. Make sure you put the oven on for the lasagna.” She took a champagne glass from her father, who obviously wanted to make her feel special. “You’ll love it, Harper. My dad’s a great chef and pasta is his specialty.”
It was sweet that she thought I was staying for dinner. I didn’t need to set her straight. I’d pull Max to the side before he left to take Amanda and then when he’d had a chance to consider what I had to say, maybe he’d call. Hopefully he’d forgive me.
“Thank you, peanut, but I think I can handle the stove.” He continued to speak but held my gaze and I couldn’t look away. “And anyway, Harper hasn’t agreed to stay for dinner yet.”
My heart fluttered, suddenly beating twice as fast. He wanted me to stay for dinner. But I hadn’t apologized yet.
“But she will, won’t you, Harper? Keep my dad company while I’m at the dance?”
“Amanda,” Max warned.
“Dad, ask her. She can’t say yes until you do. Tell him, Violet.”
“It may sound like my daughter is strong-arming me into this, which is the last thing I want you to think.” He sighed, shaking his head at his sister and daughter. “And I really appreciate getting the opportunity to ask you in front of the two most interfering women on this planet.” Max turned to look at me. “But I’d really like you to stay to dinner so we can talk and hopefully set things straight between us.” He pushed his hands through his hair.
I tried to hide my grin. I wasn’t sure what set things straight meant. I hoped at the very least it would mean we wouldn’t hate each other. But a huge part of me really wanted more, more than I deserved. I wanted Max. I had to believe I wasn’t too late.
“Lasagna’s my favorite,” I replied.
* * *
“Oh my God, I remember when she was born,” Violet said as we came down the stairs after primping Amanda for as long as we could stretch out. “It seems like yesterday. And now . . .”
Max slung his phone on the counter and raised his eyebrows, instantly in the moment with his family despite whatever corporate emergency was bound to be causing him stress. “Is she ready?” he asked. He’d left us to primp and prime his daughter, but was clearly as invested in the event as the rest of us were.
I nodded. “She’s coming.”
Violet had put some waves in Amanda’s hair, so it looked very natural falling over her shoulders. And although I’d spent a lot of time on her makeup, it could have been done in two minutes—it was just a little mascara and a touch of lip gloss. Hopefully Max would approve.
I watched Max as he gazed at his daughter coming down the stairs in the blue and silver dress we’d picked out. His eyes went glassy and he tilted his head. “Peanut, you look completely beautiful.”
My heart squeezed. I wanted to reach out for him.
He walked toward her and she stepped back, putting her hands up to stop him from coming closer.
“You can’t touch me; you’ll ruin my hair or smudge my makeup.”
He chuckled, bent down, and kissed the top of her head. “You’re getting so tall. Are you going to FaceTime your mom?”
She shook her head. “She’ll just get emotional. We took some photos. I’ll send them tomorrow.”
She might only be fourteen but worrying about her mother’s feelings in a situation that was really all about her showed a great deal about her character. A personality that had been shaped in part by the man I’d so foolishly let go.
I hung back as Scarlett and Violet gathered their things and ushered Amanda out the door. Max followed, then stopped to lean against the doorway.
Before she got in the car, Amanda turned and waved. “Bye, Dad. Bye, Harper. Enjoy your date.”
I got the impression Amanda would be very happy to see our dinner become something more than apology and air clearing and that gave me some hope she knew something of Max’s intentions.
We watched them drive off until their taillights had completely disappeared.
“She’s beautiful, Max,” I said.
“She is. Thank you for being here, for helping her. I wanted this to be special; she’s been so excited.”
“It’s been a total pleasure. You didn’t want to go with them?” I asked as Max closed the door.
“Amanda wouldn’t let me. I think she was concerned I’d kick Callum Ryder’s ass given half a chance. And anyway, we have things to talk about,” he replied. He held my gaze and my breathing hitched.
I had things to apologize for. “Max, I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry. I’ve been an idiot and selfish and I lost all judgment when it came to JD Stanley. You did nothing wrong . . .” My words were running together; I wanted to get them all out before he had a chance to say anything that would make it harder to get them out, wanted to make him see how I understood he’d done nothing wrong. I covered my face with my hands.
“I’m the one who’s sorry.” He removed my hands from my face and threaded his fingers through mine. “We were involved and I didn’t think through the consequences of accepting your father’s ultimatum. I have no experience mixing the personal and the professional, so I didn’t think about you or your feelings. I should have.”
“It wasn’t as if we were serious, but if we had been . . .”
He squeezed my hands and heat travelled up my body. “Maybe I gave you the impression that it was just sex, but I’m not sure it was ever that for me. I want to take you out on dates, to have you here with me and Amanda. I want to talk and laugh and wake up together.” He sighed and shook his head. “I thought we had time. I missed the bit where I told you how important you were to me. I told you I’ve had zero practice at this stuff.”
My stomach twisted. “I was important?” Did that mean he’d moved on?
“Was and are,” he said. “I’m just so sorry I screwed it up.”
How was he making this so easy for me? I’d expected to have to try to convince him, talk him round.
It wasn’t too late. I closed my eyes, trying to compose myself. “You didn’t. We’d made no promises to each other, and my issues with my father aren’t your battles to fight.”
“I want your battles to be my battles,” he replied.
The corners of my lips twitched. “You do?”
He nodded. “And I’m ready to make any promises you want. I want to be the man who deserves you. The man who will do anything for the woman he loves.”
I swallowed. “Loves?” I stepped toward him until our bodies were almost touching.
He shrugged. “Yeah. I love you and I need you to know. And I want you to give me a chance. I’m going to get this wrong. A lot. I haven’t had much practice—I’ll need you to stick with me.”
“Max, I’ve never trusted a man. I don’t know how to be that woman.” I’d never expected a relationship to work before, never needed it to. “You’re going to have to be patient with me, but I promise I will do my best if you give me another chance.”
“You can have a lifetime of chances,” he said. “I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t forgive you for.” His eyes were soft and I reached out and stroked his jaw. He was still breathtakingly handsome but somehow the photographs I’d seen of him
before I knew him had never done him justice. They’d not seen what a beautiful soul he had, what a wonderful father he was.
I tilted my head to one side. “You know someone told me about this thing Michael Jordan once said.” I released his hands and smoothed my palms up his chest, staring up at him. “He said, ‘I’ve missed more than nine-thousand shots in my career and I’ve lost almost three-hundred games.’”
Max lifted an eyebrow.
I continued. “He said, ‘I’ve failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.’”
I lifted my shoulder in a half shrug as he slid his hands around my waist. “Some guy I’m in love with told me about it. I think he’d say that we should keep trying until we win.”
Max’s grin made my stomach swoop. “Sounds like a smart guy.” He paused, then said, “Sounds like a lucky guy.” He pulled me closer and pressed his lips against mine. “I’ve missed you so much.”
His tongue trailed along my lips before pushing in to find my tongue. I’d forgotten how urgent his mouth was, how passionate his kisses could be. With every second, my knees got weaker, my breaths got shorter, but I wanted more.
We separated, panting, our foreheads resting against each other. “I’ve missed you, too.” I slid my arms around his neck. As he lifted me, I wrapped my legs around his waist.
“Lasagna will have to wait,” he said as he carried me toward the stairs. “I’ve fantasized about having you in this house a million times. I’ve dreamt about bending you over on the kitchen counter and fucking you from behind, thought about laying you out on the dining table and making your pussy quiver with my tongue. But right now I’m going to make love to you in my bed.”
When we got to the bedroom, I unwrapped myself from Max’s body and pulled his shirt from his jeans, undoing the buttons keeping his skin from mine. I wanted time to take in where I was, to get to know more about Max, to hear stories of the black-and-white photographs that lined his bedroom walls and to understand why he’d chosen the huge mahogany four-poster bed. But his touch temporarily wiped all my questions from my head.
“These have been driving me crazy,” he said, reaching under my shorts and cupping my ass.
