My heart was too battered to take another hit, yet I couldn’t stop loving Maxim even though I wanted to.
Chapter22
Maxim
She still wasn’t wearing her wedding band, and that bothered me like jock itch and athlete’s foot all rolled into one terrible irritation. Part of my ritual each time I returned to the house was to kiss her ring finger, then her lips. Sometimes, she was sleeping and didn’t know. When I’d checked on her that night I returned from our last away game as she slept upstairs, I’d been upset, but when I’d noted she still wasn’t wearing her ring, I’d been gutted.
We were in a battle of wills I didn’t want to win but didn’t know how to lose without losing Ida Jane.
I headed down to my gym and turned up my music—Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5—and began with my lats. Sure, other guys liked rap or even listened to metal with their workouts, but I preferred orchestral pieces. That probably had something to do with being able to catch the faintest hints of the music when I was a child. The symphony in St. Petersburg was a grand building with stately architecture and well-dressed people. The music had always sounded like wealth, prestige—what I’d aspired to.
I moved on to some triceps exercises, baring my teeth at the mirror. What the hell was I going to do? How did we bridge this ever-growing chasm between us?
Trust.
That’swhat this all pivoted on. Ida Jane didn’t trust me. I’d demolished it by not telling her the full truth when I had the chance. She’d learned about it in the worst way from the worst person, and she was understandably hurt.
Having her come to my games, picking her up from work, showing her that she was safe here—all those were important to building and maintaining respect, but those actions didn’t address the underlying issue I’d created by not trusting her with the parts of me I wasn’t proud of. I’d noted her withdrawal when I told her how glad I was neither of us wanted kids.Told her. Not asked her for her thoughts. That had left her primed to believe the worst of me when the envelope was handed to her less than an hour later.
And now, Ida Jane didn’t—couldn’t—trust me to see her, to know her, to accept her as she was.
I set down the weight, my forehead dripping and my muscles tight yet jittery. What if I’d broken us fundamentally? That was a distinct possibility—especially since her father texted me this evening before she arrived home, letting me know that his baby girl wasn’t happy.
With a long sigh, I headed up the steps to the first floor. Ida Jane wasn’t there. Concern hit my gut and gushed upward, fizzing out like a volcanic eruption. I tore out of the house, my panting heightened as I considered all the terrible things that could have happened to her because I’d been too pushy, too impatient.
I bolted down the driveway and into the road, gasping—and skidded to a stop so quickly I almost fell on my ass. Ida Jane stood across the street on the sidewalk, her head tilted back as she smiled up at Stol.
My hands fisted as I mentally prepared to murder the flirting SOB. And then I was going to…
I sucked in a deep calming breath that did nothing to ease the tension in my muscles or the pounding at the base of my skull. Ida Jane was safe. Stol wasn’t touching her. They were talking.Justtalking. Not every interaction was a precursor to the woman I cared most for in this life to end up dead.
Get a grip, Maxim.
But I couldn’t. I was too keyed up, first from my argument with Ida Jane and now from the images of Ida Jane laughing with Stol…when she couldn’t be happy with me.
* * *
Ida Jane
Stol glanced over my shoulder, his expression going from laughter to an intense frown. “Uh oh.”
I turned and then gawked. Maxim stalked back up the driveway toward the house, his shoulders bunched, his gait stiff.
“I think you broke him,” Stol said.
“Me?” I squeaked.
Stol clucked his tongue. “He is so worked up over you.”
I snorted. Stol dropped a half-smile that was just plain adorable. No wonder Millie was half in love with the man. Not that she’d admit it. In fact, she’d avoided any mention of him at all the last few times we’d spoken, but I’d pushed and pushed.
She’d promised she’d tell him about the baby. I’d need to make sure she had. Maxim was right—Stol deserved to know.
“Seriously. He can hardly see straight. And hesmiles. Well, when the two of you are getting along. It’sweirdand kind of scary. The rookie nearly pissed his pants when Maxim joked with him a couple of weeks ago.”
Before the gala.
I shook my head. “Maxim’s…”
