“Bloody hell!” she shouts, her eyebrows shooting to her hairline. “Max, this suit is nine-hundred pounds!”
“That’s just the jacket,” I reply, rolling my shoulders to get a feel for the fit.
Just then, the shop assistant reappears, brandishing her tape measure. “Well? What do we think?” Her hopeful gaze darts between Anna and me. “I think that cut looks fabulous on you.”
“I’ll take it,” I state decisively, stepping back from the mirrors.
“Excellent. The tailoring really is exquisite. I’ll just be over by the counter when you’re ready,” she says, pivoting and marching out.
“I love my job, but sometimes I wonder if I’d have been better off getting into accounting,” Anna mutters.
I chuckle. “You couldn’t differentiate between a debit and credit when you went to uni.”
“All right, smart-arse.”
“Your job is fulfilling, and that’s what matters,” I reply, meaning it. Anna’s passion for teaching has always been something I’ve respected.
“Fulfilling doesn’t afford Tom Ford suits,” she says, crossing her arms.
“How are things with you and Mason?” I ask.
Her shoulders tense. “Fine.”
“Ah,” I say. “The word that means that you’re anythingbutfine.”
She attempts a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “It’s just the same. I’m okay.”
“Anna,” I say her name, hoping she’ll divulge more information.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Max.” There’s an edge to her voice that stops me from pressing any further. “I still want a baby. He still doesn’t. It’s that simple.”
I give her a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, weasel.” I soften my approach. “You know my door’s always open, right? You have a key to the penthouse—use it anytime. I mean it. Even if it’s three in the morning.”
She nods in acknowledgment. “I know. Thank you.” Her gaze drops to her feet. “April and James are trying for a baby.”
I drop my hands to my sides, stepping toward her. “That must be difficult to hear. How does that make you feel?”
“It is.” Her voice cracks slightly. “I’m happy for them, I really am. But watching your best friend get everything you desperately want while your husband won’t even discuss it anymore…” She trails off momentarily. “Mason won’t try therapy. I asked. He told me last week that if having childrenis so important to me, then maybe I should reconsider our marriage.”
I grind my teeth. “He said that to you?”
“Yeah. I love him. I love our life together. But I can’t help but feel that something fundamental is missing. Does that make me selfish?”
“No,” I say instantly, pulling her into a hug. “It doesn’t make you selfish at all. Wanting children isn’t something you can just turn off.”
She melts into my embrace, her shoulders shaking slightly. “I thought he might change his mind. I honestly thought—” She cuts herself off. “What if I wake up in ten years and it’s too late?”
“Anna, you can’t live your life waiting for someone to change their mind.”
She pulls back, watching me intently. “What do you think, Max? Be honest.”
I know all too well what it’s like waiting for someone to change. You can hope, you can beg, you can scream until your ears bleed—but you can’t make someone choose whatyouwant. You need to let them make their own decisions. And if you have to force the person you love into something to find your own happiness, is that really love? Isn’t that just living in bad faith?
“I think you deserve to be with someone who wants the same future you do. Whether it’s Mason or someone else.” I pause, considering my next words carefully. “Ultimately, you’re the only one who can decide what you’re willing to sacrifice.”
“I know you’re right,” she says, letting go of a deep breath.
I squeeze her shoulder. “You deserve a life that feels complete. You’ll work it out, Anna. Just promise me that you’ll live your truth, not someone else’s.”
