“At a flower market. I wanted to tell her about Geoffrey, but I couldn’t do it.”
“That’s okay,” Max reassured her, his hand moving through her locks once more. “She doesn’t need to know.”
“One day I’ll tell you what happened between them, okay?”
He kissed her head. “I don’t need to know the whole story. Not really. Geoffrey wasn’t a happy man, and I figured out why for myself. He let his Madelief go.” Abruptly, he hugged Bo to him tightly. “I won’t let go of mine. Not ever.”
“Max?”
“Yes?”
“When did you know for certain? That you loved me?”
Max smiled. “I liked you a lot from the start. You were so . . . fiery with me. And then I learned that under all that fire was the softest, sweetest and kindest person. A soft, sweet and kind person with a killer body—”
“Max.”
“It’s the truth,” he said with a shrug. “I’m never going to apologize for thinking you’re beautiful.”
“But it wasn’t my looks you fell in love with?” she asked, suddenly uncertain, her voice small and timid as the question slipped out. It wasn’t just idle curiosity. No. It was her old fear curling up from deep within her, a fear that spoke with her mother’s voice, telling her once again that she was something to be looked at and nothing more. A fear that said her only worth was her beauty.
For a moment, she couldn’t meet his eyes, and Max paused. He rolled them over so that they faced one another, and he ran his thumb along her jaw and then over her nose.
“I’m not going to lie,” he said softly. “I think you’re beautiful. But the moment I knew I loved you was nothing to do with your looks. We were walking to Blackheath, to that French bar, andyou stopped to play with a dog on the way. You had on your old jeans and that old cardigan and your braid was coming loose and you stopped to play with a dog and my heart just about leaped out of my chest.”
Bo’s throat tightened, that old fear still lapping at her chest despite his words, and Max must have seen the flicker in her eyes, because he caught her chin, tilting her gaze towards his.
“Bo,” he said quietly, “it wasn’t your face I fell for. It’s the way you talk to people like they matter. It’s the way you fight for what you believe in. It’s the way you seem to make a room lighter, just by being in it. That’s what I see when I look at you. The rest . . . the rest is just the wrapping paper on the most stubborn, vibrant, maddening and wonderful gift I’ve ever received.”
Bo let out a shaky laugh, the fear in her chest easing. For the first time in her life, her mother’s voice was silenced, and in its place, there was only his.
“Why?” Max carried on. “When did you realize you loved me?”
“Pretty much from the first time I heard you play,” she confessed shyly. “I didn’t know it was love though. Not for a while.”
“Bo?”
“Yes?”
“I think one day I’m going to ask you to marry me, and knowing me, I’ll probably be vague about it. Just say yes, okay?”
She nodded. “I will say yes, but I’ll probably be vague about it too. Just ask me again, okay?”
He nodded. “I will.”
Max went to sleep with his arms locked tightly around her. The sheets were draped over them, while the air was warm on their naked bodies. For a while, Bo just stared at him, watching the way his chest rose and fell against her own. Despite Max’slifelong fear of going to sleep, there he was, calm, content and at peace, nestled against her. The realization filled her with a slow warmth. Max trusted her enough to let go, to surrender to sleep with her holding him, and that trust felt like something precious she’d been handed without being asked. She felt proud to be the place he felt safe, proud that love, whatever fragile shape it took, had brought him here. Wrapped around him, she felt deeply content, and she drifted off knowing that somehow, they fit together. It wasn’t just the physical comfort of their bodies tangled together either, but so much more. It was the way they belonged in each other’s space, the way they belonged in each other’s lives. Bo went to sleep knowing that no matter how uncertain the world around them was, here in this house, intheirworld, they were exactly where they were meant to be.
In the middle of the night however, she sat bolt upright, jumping out of bed.
“What is it?” Max asked blearily, and Bo swore.
“I have three bridesmaid’s bouquets to finish,” she told him, frantically pulling on her clothes. “I forgot about them. I need to deliver them for a wedding by 10 a.m.”
“It’s the middle of the night,” Max complained.
“I know. Go back to sleep.”
“No.” He threw the covers off. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you.”
