I’d opened my mouth and said something about her drinking. Something I should’ve kept in my head, where it belonged. It wasn’t supposed to come out like that. It wasn’t supposed to come out at all.
I didn’t know what the hell I’d been thinking—if I were thinking at all. It was a joke. Or an observation. Or some combination of the two that made sense in my head and turned to shit the second it left my mouth. She’d looked at me like I’d just confirmed every bad thing she already believed about herself. Like I’d pointed a spotlight on the one part of her she still didn’t know how to carry without shame.
“Nothing in particular,” I lied. “We just argued.”
“Again?”
“We always argue.”
Max took a sip of his coffee. “Why?”
I leaned back in the patio chair and rubbed my jaw, staring out at the yard while Duke circled again. “Why do we fight?” I repeated, more to myself than to him. “I don’t know. I’ve been asking myself that since the moment I met her. It’s like every word between us is soaked in gasoline, and neither of us knows how to keep the matches out of our mouths.”
Max didn’t say anything.
“I try,” I added. “I really do. I walk in the room with every intention of being civil, calm, reasonable—and then she opens her damn mouth, and somehow it all goes sideways. Every time. I say the wrong thing. She saysexactlythe thing I don’t want to hear. And we go at it like that’s the only language we know.”
He looked at me like I was missing something obvious. “Girls like flowers.”
I blinked at him. “Flowers.”
“Yes, Marco.Flowers.They’re colorful. Come in a vase. You buy them when you fuck up.” He leaned back in his chair and picked up the paper again. “You’ve got money. Figure it out.”
He could be right, but showing up after I’d said something I couldn’t take back? After she’d looked at me like I was the exact kind of man she never wanted to need? That was different.
I didn’t want to be one more person who made her feel small. And I definitely didn’t want to be the reason she started drinking again just to forget the sound of my voice.
I didn’t regret her, but I hated how easy it was to make her think I did.
“I’m not going to push this marriage on her,” I complained. “She has what she needs, and I’m okay with that.”
Max grunted. “I don’t care if either of you want it. You’ll make this marriage believable.”
I rolled my eyes. I’d learned that from Valentina. “She doesn’t seem exactly eager to have me given the circumstances.”
“Well, I don’t really care. She’s your responsibility. You’ll be staying with her.”
“Fine,” I said, setting the mug down. “I’ll handle it.” Then I paused, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck. “Once I get back from Chicago.”
That got his attention. “You leaving today?”
“Tonight. Maybe morning.” I glanced down at the watch on my wrist—as if the time mattered when I’d already made the decision. “Need to meet with Castello’s legal counsel. Tie up loose ends.”
Max nodded once. “You’ll be gone a week?”
“Give or take.”
A lot could happen in a week. Especially when the person you were married to didn’t trust you, didn’t want you in their space, and didn’t realize how close they were to burning it all down.
“Try to get it done sooner. Sebastian’s around more than he should be,” he continued. “Eyes are on her more than I like. I don’t give a shit if it’s love or fun or something in between, but if she’s still got a soft spot for him—if there’s even the smallest chance she’ll listen to what he tells her—then we’ve got a problem.”
“She won’t,” I said, though I didn’t sound convincing. Even to myself.
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” I lied. “I’ll head out now though. I’ll try to be back by Saturday at the latest.”
He nodded once, satisfied enough to let it drop.
