I frowned at him. “Who’s helping Daisy move?”
“Don’t know.”
“Did she book movers?”
“She can’t really afford that.”
“Does she have a family member who can help? A brother, or…?”
Nick held my gaze for a long time. “He died.”
“Her brother? When?”
“Six months ago.”
“Before or after your dad passed?”
“Does it matter?” he snapped.
“She’s moving out of the house you both lived in, with no one to help her?”
“I’m sure her aunt will help her out.”
I paused the conversation long enough to return Mum’s wave. She was in her element, lording over a group of elites and holding court like a true icon of style—a former fashion model that still graced the covers of magazines. A touch of cosmetic surgery here and there had helped maintain her fiery beauty. She’d been hailed as Brazil’s Grace Kelly once, and even now her elegance made her the most beautiful woman here.
“Does Daisy have somewhere decent to move to?” I asked.
“I assume so.” Nick turned to face me again. “It’s unlike you to care about strangers.”
“I’m going soft in my old age.”
He chuckled. “You’re thirty-three.”
And looking every year of it… I was burned out from work and only now realizing it. I’d been driven to succeed over the last few years and rarely had time to spend with family. And Mum needed me now, so being here was the best decision I’d made in a while.
“Daisy asked me to return this.” I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the gold envelope she’d given me.
“It’s Morgan’s.” He gave a nod in her direction. “We can’t make the event. It conflicts with her schedule. Morgan has a Vanity Fair photo session instead.”
I turned it over in my hand. “What’s the invite for?”
We were interrupted as Mum rushed towards us, the crowd parting for her like Moses separating the Red Sea.
“Darling, you’re here!” Her Portuguese accent had faded slightly through the years, but the warmth of her demeanor was a constant in our lives.
“You look wonderful, as always.” I kissed her left cheek and then the right.
Gillian Banham looked quite regal and glamorous in her silver gown, with her quaffed blonde hair suspended in a sea of hairspray and diamonds shimmering at her throat.
Her cold hands cupped my face. “Meu lindo garoto. Tão precioso. You look more like your father each time I see you.” She pulled back. “Why didn’t you shave? Is this a new look?”
“I’m on vacation,” I replied, defending myself.
“I suppose you’ll do,” she chided. “There’s someone here I want you to meet.” She took my hand. “Lucia is lovely. Her father owns a newspaper.”
“Oh, God,” I muttered.
“Sorry?” she asked, glancing over at me.
I smiled. “Oh, good.”
She winked. “Help your mother help you, Maximus.” She was the only one who called me that. “Dating a debutant will win you points.”
Turning, I offered the envelope back to Nick along with a look that begged for him to save me. Like arranging for a helicopter to arrive and throw down a rope, hoisting me to freedom—our private joke during these kinds of events.
“Keep it,” said Nick, refusing the envelope. “You should accept the invite. Might meet someone nice.” He mimicked our mother by winking at me.
My face twisted in misery, but I hid my frustration when I turned away from him.
Mum and I merged into a crowd of flowery perfume-drenched debutants who were all pretty in their own way…a reflection of horsey parents and good living.
“This is my son,” announced Gillian to the aristocratic circle, as they munched on hors d’oeuvres. “He’s the highest paid lawyer in Brazil. He defends rascals.”
I cringed and stared at the well-manicured lawn beneath my feet. There came the expected coo of admiration, ironically followed by my internal screaming.
“I’ve been boasting about how big you are,” announced Mum.
With my best poker face, I hid my embarrassment and went with my tried and tested expression of friendly with a dash of nonchalance. Leaning back, I snagged another glass of champagne off a tray and raised it high. “To the British empire!”
Everyone took me seriously and raised their glasses, too.
The thought crossed my mind that if Daisy were here, she’d be the one I’d gravitate to…someone who came across as authentic, genuine. A woman I could approve of my brother dating.
But Daisy was gone from our lives. A rare beauty in a sea of uncertainty, lost to our history—a victim of my brother’s upbringing, growing up in the shadow of icons. He’d not seen Daisy’s worth because he’d been blinded by superficiality. It made me sad for him. Sad for them both, really.
From behind me, I heard someone faking the sound of spinning chopper blades. I turned to see Nick, who walked by us with a grin, totally enjoying my torment.
Yesterday, I’d gotten a text from Nick. It was the message I’d been holding out for. He was coming home to help me move. I’d get to see him. Maybe, if he was willing, he’d talk about what went wrong.
Maybe he’ll change his mind.
I’d have the chance to share my concerns, which now burned ever brighter. Last night, Morgan had posted an image of them doing shots at a party. With a football match coming up, Nick shouldn’t be drinking.
Shivering on the couch, I realized having the electricity turned off the morning before I was to move out was stupid. Not that I’d been thinking clearly lately. Even with my coat on the chill was unbearable.
Six weeks ago, Nick had returned to collect his things. The memory of watching him walk out the door still hurt like hell. Having to leave our home was going to destroy me all over again. My throat tightened at the thought of locking that door and never coming back.
Be brave.
Let him see how calm you are. How strong.
I still couldn’t believe that Morgan wasn’t just a fling. I loved him with all my heart, and he’d loved me right back—or so I’d believed. He’d certainly made me feel that what we’d had was real.
All our “firsts” had been here. Our first time cooking together. The first time we’d taken a bubble bath together. The first time I’d felt comfortable peeing in front of someone else. Those were just the highlights. We’d experienced more laughter than I’d believed possible.
We’d been happy.
Even with all the grief that wove itself between us—me grieving for my brother and Nick for his dad—we’d fought for days when that crushing sense of loss wasn’t so stifling.
I pushed those thoughts away, trying not to make myself feel worse, and rubbed my stomach to soothe the ache.
Looking around, I couldn’t fight off the memories. We’d decorated our place with carefully chosen pieces we’d bought from antique stores. A few remained scattered around the house. They reminded me of another time when laughter had rippled through this home.
Nick had gotten too close to me and it had scared him away.
I recalled other days on lazy weekends when we’d curled up on this very sofa together with mugs of piping hot cocoa. We’d watched football, sitting through re-runs of his matches. Nick had shown me the moves he’d made that marked him as a player to watch. Even after the millionth time of seeing him kick a goalie, I’d cooed with pride. His obsession had become mine.
We’d danced in this room like we hadn’t had a care in the world. There had been passion-filled, sleepless nights.
I’d not seen this coming. This crushing of my life.
Morgan would never respect his dream like I had. She’d never be willing to sacrifice their time together to allow him to attend games that took him out of town.
I’d find a way to tell him this.
The sound of a truck pulling up out front
broke the quiet. Psyching myself up to face Nick, I headed down the hallway. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I reached for the door handle.
Forcing a bright smile, I yanked open the door.
I’d forgotten how tall Max was. How handsome.
I finally exhaled. “It’s you.”
“It’s me,” he said, giving me a dazzling smile.
I peered around his shoulder for Nick.
“I offered to help you move,” he said. “Nick told you, right?”
“I thought it was going to be him.”
Disappointment squeezed my heart. This had felt like my last chance to save us.
“Will I do?” Max waggled his eyebrows, and then turned and pointed. “I hired a truck.”
I motioned for him to come inside. “Thank you for being here. I…don’t actually have that much.”
Max looked around the living room. “This is it?”
This was it—five cardboard boxes and two suitcases.
He looked concerned. “What’s happening to your furniture?”
“Nick is going to collect the rest. I thought he’d be doing that today.”
“You’re not keeping it?”
“I have no room.”
“Where are you moving to?”
“My aunt’s place.” For now.
He nodded. “Ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I tried to sound cheery.
We stepped outside and he directed the movers to come in, and then turned to face me. “Why don’t I drive your car so you can relax? Moving can be stressful. Carl will follow us.”
“He won’t mind?”
“Of course not.”
“Tell him I’ll be gentle.”
“How do you mean?”
“The last time I got close to you he overreacted.”
He tipped my chin up. “I can handle you, Daisy.”
“I’d like that.” I tried to hide my embarrassment.
My stomach felt like it was filling up with butterflies.
Max smiled. “It’s the least I can do.”
He pivoted and walked toward the truck.
The upbeat movers seemed happily surprised by the lack of items they had to carry out of the place. They stacked the boxes and suitcases into the back of their ginormous truck—so few they looked ridiculous on their own in there.
Within a few minutes, I’d locked up the house and handed over the door keys to Max.
I hesitated on the walkway, looking up at our former home.
My insides turned to jelly as I replayed all the things I could have done to prevent this from happening. Our relationship had always seemed easy, and maybe that was where it had gone wrong. It had felt as natural as breathing, and we’d always felt safe. I’d always felt safe.
My feet wanted to carry me back inside and return somehow to that life of happiness. I wanted to wake up from this nightmare.
Max looked at me with concern.
I continued down the pathway, holding my breath until what felt like a tidal wave of loss no longer paralyzed me. With a fake smile, I wrote down my aunt’s address and gave it to the truck driver.
“You don’t have to stay,” I told Max. “The truck is more than enough.”
“It’s fine.”
My voice cracked with emotion. “Nick sent you to make sure I left?”
“I wanted to be here.”
“Everyone dreads moving day.” I looked at him, surprised. “No one volunteers for this.”
He smiled. “Well, it’s not like I’ve had to lift anything.”
“There’re plenty of other things you could be doing.”
“You saved me from having afternoon tea with my mother and her friends. Quite frankly, I owe you.”
I relented and led the way over to my Mini Cooper, clicking the doors open.
Before Max got into the car, he looked back at the house. “You were good for Nick, Daisy, no matter what else has happened.”
“You really believe that?”
“After his dad died, you were like an anchor in a storm for him.”
His words sent regret through me, because this was how I felt, too. Yet nothing could be done about it. It was like watching someone you love drive on the wrong side of the road. Yes, they’d hurt you, but the mistake they were making somehow hurt more.
Max climbed into the driver’s seat of my Mini, shaking his head in amusement at how cramped it was as he adjusted the seat back to accommodate his long legs. I sat beside him, pointing out where the indicators were.
With my mind spiraling and being so distracted, I was relieved that he had offered to drive. Had I been alone, I’d have sobbed all the way to Richmond and probably crashed on the way. With Max throwing me reassuring glances, I was able to hold back my emotions and not embarrass myself.
“You don’t mind driving on the other side of the road?” I asked, simply trying to make conversation.
Max gave me a sexy smile. “I’m versatile.”
This forbidden crush I was developing was making me feel guilty. It was the way his hands gripped the steering wheel, the way he shifted the gears with confidence. Not to mention his gorgeous profile. I suspected he knew I was stealing glances.
Considering Max was used to driving on the right, he was handling the traffic well—like someone who lived here. Yet he lived a million miles away.
“So…you and Nick have the same mum?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yes, her name is Gillian.”
“How well do you and Nick get along?’
“The older we get, the easier it gets. I was eight and living in São Paulo when Nick was born.”
“That must have been hard. Having your mum here, I mean.”
“It is what it is.”
I wanted to say that he must have missed her a lot, but I didn’t want to bring us both down.
I turned to him. “Did Nick say why he couldn’t make it?”
Max threw me a glance. “He has a meeting with a coach from Manchester United.”
That actually made me feel a little better. “Oh, he couldn’t miss that.”
“Thank you for understanding, Daisy.”
“I’m keeping my eyes, fingers and toes crossed for him.”
Nick’s dream was coming true. He’d sacrificed so much along the way, attending every after-school soccer training day. His talent had been spotted young when he’d played in the little leagues—though his famous father had probably helped shine a spotlight on him. Nick’s focus on the sport had intensified to an obsession when he’d finally believed in his own talent.
His entire life was football.
As a senior player, he was being offered the chance of a lifetime—to play for Manchester United. The money would be amazing, but that had never been Nick’s motivation. It had always been the game. The chance to prove he had what it took to play in the premier leagues. To join the same team that had made his dad an icon.
I’d been there to help Nick get to this point, supporting him any way I could. But now I’d not be able to see him cross the finish line and achieve his dream. That realization stung because it had been my dream, too.
“Want to talk about it?” asked Max.
“I’m fine.”
“I get it. I’ve been there.” He saw my look of disbelief. “I used to be geeky in college. I was the student who always got straight A’s. I loved hanging out in the library. Always had my head in a book. This, I discovered, wasn’t enough to keep her.”
“Keep who?”
“The prettiest girl in school.”
“What happened?”
“She broke my heart. Ruined me for all other girls.”
“There must have been someone else?” My heart stuttered as I waited for his response.
“I run a busy law firm. I’m unable to devote the kind of attention that a serious relationship needs to flourish. But I do date, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
He laughed at my expression. “Y
ou’re so cute.”
I let my breath out slowly, while trying to hide the way he made me react—I felt all flushed and giddy. He saw me as his brother’s ex. That was never going to change.
“Don’t worry about Nick and Manchester United,” he said. “He’s got this.”
“He’s making it happen.”
“Focus on you, Daisy.” He reached over and rested his hand on mine.
I bit my lower lip, trying to suppress a wistful sigh and the urge to rest my head back and just stare at him.
He withdrew his hand and the loss of his touch sent a chill over my entire body. I clutched my hands together to warm them.
“Nick told me you work in a shop?”
“Harvey Nichols.”
“I bet you’re good at your job.”
There it was…that hint that a shop girl wasn’t good enough for his family.
I shrugged, not wanting him to know that being around fashion made me happy. Or that I had a thing for shop window displays. Or, that in another life, I’d not have left Uni and finished that degree in art and design. My job at Harvey Nichols was to help shoppers find that one special gown, and I allowed myself to live vicariously through them.
Up ahead, the white moving truck pulled up to my aunt’s townhouse. We parked behind it. In the wing mirror, I could see that Carl was right behind us. Soon, Max would be in the back of that SUV, driving away from me forever.
My last link to Nick would be gone.
I tried to undo my seatbelt with trembling hands, and Max reached over and helped me get it unfastened. His fingers lingered on mine in a comforting gesture, as though he knew how difficult this moment was for me.
Aunt Barbara rushed out to greet us, waving at me with enthusiasm. When I climbed out of the car, she hurried over and wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug.
To many, Aunty seemed eccentric, especially due to the way she dressed in bright blouses and flowing skirts—as though she had just arrived from the seventies in all its billowy, flowery glory.
She pivoted to face Max, and gave him a hug, too. “You’re a nice strong man, aren’t you?” she said.
I tried not to cringe, even as Max returned the hug to appease her.
“He’s Nick’s brother,” I explained.
“Nick couldn’t make it?” she asked sourly.
Maximum Dare Page 4
