“How’d you know?”
“The chairs look like the ones at your aunt’s house.” Max smiled then, making it even clearer how much tension he was holding.Because of me. Because I was here.“Max, you don’t have to give me your room?—”
“Hasn’t been my room for months, Daisy. Now it’s yours.”
I had no will to argue. Not when this bed was looking more and more amazing by the second. “Which room will you take?”
His throat worked to swallow. “There’s a fourth bedroom off the kitchen downstairs.”
Downstairs.It made sense. Of course, it did. It was closer to any and all entrances and exits to the house…and it was as far away as possible from me. Safer from every angle.So why was the only thing I felt disappointment?
“Okay.” I nodded.
“These should be your clothes.” He patted each duffel. “I’m going to bring the rest of the bags inside and then hop in the shower. Do you need anything?”
My jaw slackened.Yes. I needed to not be left with the mental image of my naked husband showering on the floor below. Or the memory of my almost mother-in-law tracking me down and threatening me and my baby.
“No, thanks. You…I’m good,” I managed to choke out, walking to the window and staring blankly out at the invisible horizon.
I felt the tears welling. The sadness. The anger. I hated when it happened like this, the way a tsunami pulled the ocean away from the shore before unleashing devastation. I hated how my emotions retreated after Max sent Mrs. McCormick packing. How we’d eaten and packed up my things, and the whole time, I’d felt fine.I’d thought I was handling it fine.Now, I saw the cresting devastation as it hurtled toward me.
So I closed my eyes and braced for the onslaught, but instead of the cold desolation I’d been expecting, it was a wave of heat that hit me first.
It was the scent of him, floral and spice, flooding my nostrils. The proximity of his size and the way it set my body on edge. Threatening, but in a way that made me ache for it. For him. And I tried to tamp it down.For how long had I tried to tamp it down?
I didn’t need to open my eyes to see where he stood, and for too many seconds to count, all he did was stand behind me. Maybe he was waiting for me to look at him, to say something.But what was there to say?
“Daze.” His hand curled over my shoulder, and then the tsunami hit.
Tears coursed down my cheeks, overflowing through closed eyelids like the watery drops were made solely of what-ifsandwhat-could-have-beens.I wished I could stop them. I wished I could have held them back until Max had gone.
There were no what-ifswhen it came to Todd. Not anymore. The moment I read his note the morning we were supposed to be married, I realized I’d been clinging to what-ifswith Todd for four years.What if he didn’t mean it? What if he wanted to change? What if he was really changing this time? What if hetruly loved me, and that was why he hadn’t given up on us yet, even though he never seemed happy?There was no wonderingwhat ifhe’d shown up to our wedding.I didn’t wonder. I didn’t hope. I didn’t want.
And I wasn’t crying over what had happened with him or his mother. I was overwhelmed by what was happening with Max and everything that could’ve happened differently if only one thing had changed.
What if it hadn’t been Todd I’d left the coffee shop with four years ago, but Max?
“Daisy…” The ragged texture of Max’s voice made the first sob break free. With a deep rumble, I felt myself being spun and clutched to Max’s solid chest, swallowed up in the fortress of his protection.
His possession.
And then the sobs broke free. Heavy rolling waves of sadness. Not for Todd or because of his mom, but for me. Because I was too stubborn, believing I was too smart and too cautious to end up in a bad relationship. So stubborn, how, at every sign, I sacrificed accepting what was true in pursuit of proving I was right. I wanted to be right about Todd. I didn’t want to accept that my first serious relationship was a failure.I didn’t want my daughter to grow up without both parents.
When my breaths started to hiccup, Max tightened his hold, one hand on the back of my head, the other on my low back. “It’s going to be okay,” Max said, his fingers lightly rubbing my scalp, the prickle of sensation reaching all the way down to my toes.
I didn’t open my eyes. Couldn’t. For some reason, I could face him the day my fiancé had left me at the altar, but this…this was different. That day I’d been a victim, but tonight, I was vulnerable. My raw, obstinate, and pitiable heart was laid bare in front of the man I’d always wanted. The man who’d given me ina matter of weeks what Todd hadn’t been able to manage in four years. The what-ifI should’ve chosen.
And that was what made this worse. Anger shook through me, giving more force to my cries. Anger at myself because I knew better. Because I could’ve chosen better.Because I had a better choice and I didn’t take it.
Max slid his hand to my cheek and tried to tip my head, but I pressed deeper into his chest, drowning in his scent. “Daze, look at me.”
This time, I obeyed because the authority in his voice gave me no choice. Like a magnet to its opposing pole, my gaze lifted, and I blinked rapidly, clearing the murk from my eyes just as they collided with his. Instantly, I was brought back to that night in the storm, Max standing at the passenger door as I begged him to kiss me.
His irises were molten with gold. Liquefied by the same hunger from that night, they traced my face. My red-rimmed eyes. Flushed cheeks. Parted mouth. Heartbeats spilled into my veins, wild and unsteady and wanton.
“Tell me what I can do, Daze,” Max ordered, more hoarsely this time, as remnants of the persona that had erupted in front of Todd’s mom bled through his handsome face.
Instantly, my hormones swung me in a completely different direction. One where I wasn’t breaking down against his chest but bucking in his arms. Where he wasn’t ordering me to look at him but to scream his name. The change was so swift, it whiplashed a shiver through my body.
