Her words held a hint of a challenge, as if she were testing him, waiting for him to confirm her suspicions. He wanted to tell her he had no plans, that his only desire was to stay right here, to sit in this room with her for as long as he could. But the words wouldn’t come. He had never been good at this kind of conversation. When it came to his own feelings, he was lost.
“I’m sure something will come along,” he said instead, looking down into his glass. “I probably won’t return to England. Not for a while.”
He looked up at her and saw a flash of pain in her eyes before she looked away. She had mistaken his detachment for eagerness. She thought he couldn’t wait to be rid of her, to get back to the life he was more comfortable with. She believed he was counting the days until he could be back in the desert, chasing after a new mystery. She had her own insecurities, her own fears that he was too much, too big for her life, and that he would eventually get bored with her. He knew these things, yet he still couldn’t find the words to ease her fears.
The conversation died, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. They were both holding back, waiting for the other to make a move. He was afraid to admit how much he wanted her to stay, and she was afraid to admit how much she wanted him to ask. The chasm between them was filled with unspoken words and misinterpreted glances. Why didn’t he have the courage to change it?
He finally put his drink down and turned toward the door, unable to bear the weight of the moment any longer. “I’ll get your tickets sorted out,” he said, his voice gruff. “And I’ll have someone see to your luggage.”
She nodded, not looking at him. “Thank you, Max. For everything.”
He wanted to tell her that there was no need to thank him, that this journey had been more of a gift to him than she could ever know. He wanted to tell her that he wasn’t a man who had ever wanted to be tied down, but that she had changed that. That he was worried about what a life without her would look like. He wanted to tell her so many things.
But he didn’t. He simply turned and left the suite, leaving her alone with her thoughts. He didn’t know how to say what he felt, and he had a terrifying feeling that she didn’t know how to listen.
“You love him, don’t you?”
Felicity’s voice broke into Eden’s maudlin thoughts like a bucket of water thrown over her head.
“What?” she asked, glancing up at the woman, who stood in the doorway of her bedchamber, her gaze pitying. “Why would you say that?”
“I’m sorry. I overheard your conversation. I didn’t mean to.” The woman walked slowly across the room, taking the chair across from hers. “But it’s obvious the man wanted you to ask him to come back to England with you. Or that he wanted you to stay with him. It’s been a long time for me, but I still recognize the sound of a man in love.”
Eden blinked, her thoughts scattering. “I wish that were so,” she said with a sigh. “But you must be mistaken. He’s made it clear that he can’t wait to be shut of me once again.”
Felicity shook her head with a sad smile. “No, my dear. It is you who is mistaken. Are you willing to lose him from pure stubbornness? Because it seems he might be. And I’d hate to see two people who are so suited for each other end up alone. Trust me, love is the only thing in the world worth taking a chance on.”
“Do you truly think he loves me?” Eden asked, the fugue state that she’d been in since the tunnels collapsed finally starting to dissipate.
“I think the more important question is whether you love him,” Felicity said with a sad smile. “What do you want from your life, Eden? Now that you’ve been with him for all these weeks, can you imagine going back to England without him?”
The pain that filled her at the very thought was all the answer she needed.
Felicity stood and squeezed Eden’s shoulder. “Don’t let that be the last conversation you have with him. I’ll go and run you a hot bath so you can wash the desert off you and perhaps start leaving whatever happened out there behind you. You told me to figure out what I wanted the rest of my life to look like, Eden, but now I think you need to answer that question yourself. And then, when he returns, perhaps you can finally tell him what you want.”
“Thank you,” Eden murmured as the woman crossed the sitting room into the expansive bathing chamber, and the sound of running water filled the space.
What do I want the rest of my life to look like?
That was a good question, and Eden wasn’t sure she knew the answer. But she did know that whatever form it took, she wanted Max by her side. Her life was fuller when he was in it. It always had been. And Felicity was right. The worst thing would not be to lose him. It would be letting him once again walk away without even trying to stop him.
Chapter Twenty-three
Once she sank into the wonderful, warm water scented with lemon oil, Eden cursed herself for not having done this the moment she got back to the hotel. The desert had taken all her strength, but as the warmth sank into her bones, she felt some of it begin to return.
