Max nodded, before he looked at the bouquet in his free hand, as though noticing it for the first time. He thrust them at her. “These are for you. My florist sends her blessings.”
Bo frowned, looking into the bouquet she’d just made. “Max, I don’t understand.”
He gave a soft chuckle. “I told you once that I’m not good with vague. I need things spelled out for me. So, I realize that these flowers are probably the height of hypocrisy. Maybe the tickets were too. I’m not good with expressing myself, you see, and I’m downright terrible at sharing my feelings. Not that I don’t feel anything; the exact opposite in fact. I feel a million things inside, but they all come out in my music. I’ve been miserable this past year, Bo. Absolutely miserable. I’ve missed you. Missed everything about you. My language is music, your language is flowers. I tried telling you my way, and here we are, months later, still apart. So, I’m trying your way.” He nudged the flowers to her again. “These are foryou.”
She stared at him, absolutely astounded. “But you said they were for your girlfriend.”
“Yes.”
“But you want me to have them?”
“Yes.”
“But, Max, I’m not your girlfriend.”
Max gave her a look. “Bo, I really need you to understand what I’m saying right now.”
“You . . . you want me to be your girlfriend?”
Max nodded. He pulled her close to him, pressing his body against hers, and oh, Bo had forgotten how this felt. She’d forgotten how impossibly wonderful Max felt next to her. She’d forgotten how wonderful he smelled and how wonderful he looked, and she’d forgotten the feelings that erupted inside both her body and soul when he was with her.
“That’s the general idea, although ‘girlfriend’ feels like an inadequate term. I think what I’m trying to say is that I’d like to keep you forever, if it’s okay with you?”
She nodded, still stunned. “I think that’s okay with me. More than okay.”
Max bent towards her, kissing her softly. It was odd, how familiar it all still felt after all this time. Her lips met his, following his lead and matching his movements, and it was sweet and sexy and so full of promise that Bo couldn’t help but sigh against him.
He pulled away, smiling down at her. “Can we go for a walk? Talk on the way? I really want to talk to you. Tell you everything.”
She nodded, and he nuzzled her nose softly.
“You understand the flowers now, right? Because if you’re still uncertain, I did get something bigger. Just in case.”
“Something bigger? I told you; I’ve heard your concerto.”
“It’s your concerto, really,” Max replied easily. “Actually, I did something else too. I told you that eighty per cent of the time you drive me crazy, but it’s a good kind of crazy? Hopefully when you see what I’ve done, you’ll think it’s a good kind of crazy.”
“Max, what have you done?”
He grinned down at her, kissing her softly once more. “Let’s go for that walk, and I’ll show you.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
They set off down the high street towards the heath, hand in hand, and it was all so odd in the most wonderful way that Bo still didn’t believe it. She kept sneaking glances at Max, who led the way with purpose, and at one point she was so overwhelmed she stopped completely, pulling on his hand.
“But you said I was just a fling. Someone you could never be serious about.”
Max looked back at her, and a flush crossed his cheeks. “I was in love and uncertain,” he explained slowly. “I was so absolutely in love with you, and you never . . .” he paused. “Look, I didn’t think you felt anything for me at all. I thought you just saw me as an easy conquest over the summer, someone to help you lick your wounds after your asshole ex hurt you the way he did. I tried asking you to come to Berlin with me — not very well, I admit — but you were so quick to tell me you had other plans that I felt thoroughly rejected.”
Bo felt a stab of pain. “You wanted me to go with you? I thought you didn’t care about me at all. I thought you were going back to see Raphaella, and I . . . I was hurt and trying to show that it didn’t bother me.”
Max shook his head in disbelief. “Of course I wanted you with me. I always want you with me, Bo. When I got to Berlin, all my friends were asking about the woman I was seeing, and I . . . well, I guess I was trying to mitigate my hurt. So, I told them you were just a fling; someone I wasn’t serious about. You know that old saying how if you tell yourself something enough it starts to be true? That’s what I was hoping would happen. That if I told myself and other people that I wasn’t serious about you, I’d stop being serious about you.” He stopped, wrenching her against him. “But I am serious about you. From the moment you first invited me into your bed, I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”
She nodded, smiling up at him, and he planted a kiss on her forehead, before pulling on her hand again.
“Raphaella said you were probably going to get back together,” she admitted as they began walking again. “That night in my garden, when I overheard her. She said it so confidently. I really believed her.”
Max laughed. “Raphaella’s an ex-girlfriend for a reason, Bo. We broke up the summer I met you. When I came back from London after my night with you, and you were all I could think about, she wasn’t happy. She spent the next year calling me, and I kept trying to let her down gently. I didn’t even invite her to the house the night of my party, you know. She just turned up with some of my friends. I was quite angry with her. More so when I realized she’d said all she had, and you’d heard every word.”
