Max was cold and hungry and tired, but he had not been able to make himself leave her door. He was not sure he could ever make himself go. A part of him was determined to live on her front porch until she finally came out and had to face him and listen to him explain that their rushed wedding had nothing to do with his becoming king.
However, as he’d waited outside her door the past hours, he had asked himself over and over if ulterior motives had played a role in pressuring her to marry him at the cabin. He still was not entirely sure if his subconscious had prompted him to a degree. But he was one hundred percent certain he had fallen in love with her and that he wanted to be married to her regardless of whether or not he ever became king.
He had told her that and a great deal of other thoughts throughout the past hours. He hadn’t known if she was listening, but he had confessed to everything, had begged her to forgive him for not telling her sooner, had explained how it had not been his intent to withhold information from her.
But no amount of talking had swayed her to open the door, and neither had any of his long, rambling texts. She had shut him out thoroughly and completely—not just out of the cottage but out of her life.
He couldn’t blame her. The situation did appear devious on his part, as if he really had coerced her into marriage. If the roles were reversed, he might be hurt and confused as well. He neededher to know his love for her was real and that it wasn’t a means to an end. That was why he was still standing on her stoop, waiting, hoping, and needing to see her.
He pressed the door with one hand, wishing he had the strength to break it down and force his way inside. But he knew he couldn’t force Emberly, not even if he was that strong. He wanted her willingly or not at all.
“I promise I did not marry you so that I could keep the crown.” He listened for any sign of her—breathing, shuffling, anything—but he could hear nothing. As far as he knew, she might be in her bed, covers piled over her head and the bedroom door closed.
A manly hand clamped his shoulder, companionably and kindly.
Max began to shrug it off. “Not yet, Braun.”
“It’s me, son.” At the sound of T.W.’s voice, Max hung his head even lower.
“I apologize, T.W., for causing this disaster.” Max had caught glimpses of Tyler and Kade lurking around the cottage from time to time through the morning and early afternoon. They had come to check on Emberly too. Or perhaps they had been keeping an eye on him to make sure he behaved.
T.W. did not immediately respond, but neither did he remove his grasp from Max’s shoulder.
Max shifted to find T.W. in a heavy winter coat, peering at him with shadowed eyes. Leah stood a short distance away, also in her winter gear. Beyond them stood Tyler and Kinsey. Max didn’t need T.W. to speak to know what this meeting was about. They wanted him to leave the ranch.
“You’re a good man, Max.” T.W. squeezed his shoulder before letting go. “I’m glad to have you as part of the family.”
“You are? Even after all that has occurred? After all the trouble I am bringing upon your family?”
“Of course I’m glad.” T.W.’s expression was graver than usual. “I know you love Emberly. You’ve proven it again by standing out here for hours and not giving up on her.”
The cold swirled around Max, and he was numb despite the hand and feet warmers Braun had been bringing him. Even so, he wasn’t ready to go. “I would stand here the rest of the day and night—”
“But you should give her some time.”
Max shook his head, frustration welling up within him. “I want to clarify that the birthday deadline did not enter my mind during my pursuit of your daughter. The truth is that I am utterly and completely enamored of her and wanted to marry her because I cannot imagine life without her in it.”
T.W.’s expression softened, and he offered Max a small smile. “I believe you.”
Max’s chest squeezed with emotion. “Thank you.”
T.W. nodded. “I have confidence you can work this out with her. But give yourself and her a break, why don’t you?”
From T.W.’s tone, Max gathered the words were less of a suggestion and more of a command. Though Max did not want to walk away without some assurance that Emberly was okay, he had to give her a break. Maybe during the interim, she would read some of his texts and his apologies and affirmations of how much he loved her.
“Listen, son.” T.W. dropped his voice. “You decided she’s your one and only. Now you’ve got to make sure she knows she’s your world, your everything, your life.”
Frustration burned through Max. “How can I”—he kept his voice low too—“if she will not talk to me?”
“Most of the time, words just aren’t enough.”
Max tried to make sense of T.W.’s wise statement. “So you are saying talking may not work?”
“Talking is good and all. But you know the old saying: Actions speak louder than words.”
“True enough.”
T.W. gave his arm a squeeze, then backed down the step to the pathway. “You’ll figure something out.”
