A small storm of tears starts to gather behind my eyes, but I make an effort to hold it back. “Tash told me... Simon cheated on her, a few years ago. They... went to therapy, sorted everything out.”
“Do you want to go to therapy?” he says quickly.
I shake my head. “I can’t think of anything worse.”
Max leans forward, forehead crumpled in earnest, the deep gray of his irises seeming somehow to intensify. “So...?”
“It just made me think that maybe we have to... make a choice. A conscious decision to live with what happened, and try to move past it. If that’s what you want.”
He closes his eyes momentarily, as though, in a twist of irony, ajury’s declared him not guilty of some terrible crime. “That’sallI want. It’s the only thing I’ve been able to think about.”
The relief when he says this feels like hitting air after being underwater.
Max comes over to the sofa, sits down next to me, and takes my hand. “I realize I don’t deserve this. Or you.”
I look down at his fingers wrapping mine. I can feel a pulse passing between them like a current. “I know you’re sorry. And I know how bad Tash feels, too.”
“The only thing I care about,” he whispers, putting his face to the base of my neck, his breath dancing over my skin, “is that you feel able to trust me again.”
“We have to take it slow.”
“As slow as you want.” His voice wavers like he’s going to beat me to the tears. “I’m just so happy you’re here.”
—
We’ve talked all day, not even pausing to eat, and it must be late now because it’s dark outside. My mouth is dry and tacky, a headache taking root inside my skull.
Max has closed the shutters. The living room is lit only by a single floor lamp, and I’m struggling to fully make out his features or the expression on his face, since he’s sitting back in the armchair near the fireplace, a couple of meters between us. But I can decipher the inflections of his sentences, the pauses he leaves between words, sentiments all of their own.
“Do you want to talk about Tash?” he asks at one point, because we still haven’t.
“No,” I reply, honestly. “You?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
From outside the bay window drifts the rattle of a taxi idling, thena door slamming, followed by a snatch of laughter that I want to grab on to, try to absorb somehow. I’m not actually sure if I’ve laughed properly since May.
“You were right earlier,” Max says, swilling tea that must be cold by now around the bottom of his cup. “About making a choice. A conscious decision.”
I nod. “I used to think you were... The One, you know? My soulmate. That we were destined to be together, or something.”
“And now?”
“I’m not sure I believe in that anymore. Maybe... we’re a good match, but it’s still down to us what we do with that. Not fate, or destiny, or some higher power. Maybe what actually happens is, you meet someone, you fall in love, and you do everything you can to make it work.”
I think about what Tash said to me last night, about Simon and Andrea.Good people can do awful things. Youcanget past stuff you thought was impossible, Luce.
Max seems to reflect on this for a moment or two, and I can’t tell if he’s offended, confused, or a little of both. “Can I be brutally honest?”
“From now on, let’s only be that.”
“Okay. Well, there’ve actually been three people in my life who I’ve had that... meant-to-be feeling with.”
I nod, ignoring the brief blaze of jealousy I feel.
“But there’s only ever been one person who I don’t want to live without.” He clears his throat. “What I mean is, I agree. I want to work this out, Luce. And I do mean work. Whatever it takes. I love you too much to let this go.”
I glance at him, half wondering if he might get to his feet, cross the room, and kiss me, but he doesn’t. He simply looks soberly into the space between us, like we’re way out at sea, fighting to keep our heads above water. And in this moment, all I can do is hope with everything I have that we make it back toshore.
