She opened her mouth, going to call out Max’s name, before she stopped. The music tonight was the angriest she’d ever heard Max play, the furious notes and loud chords at odds with the soft familiarity of the piece he was playing. Instantly, Bo knew that this wasn’t a rehearsal for Max. No, this was a release of outrage, and she crouched in on herself to hear it.
She refused to be cowed though. Refused to snake back to her summer house and leave everything she felt unsaid. So, with her heart beating fast and on shaky legs, she snuck into Max’s study, slipping into her usual corner and waiting for Max to finish.
He knew she was there, of course. She recognized his awareness of her presence by a sudden tension to his shoulders and back, and by the sudden jarring sound of a missed note as his hands stumbled over the keys. Still, he masterfully played on, and Bo found a small degree of comfort in the familiarity of this moment. Her, sitting in the corner of this room, listening intently to the music, while Max played, fully aware of the silent witness to his creativity and genius. It was achingly comforting, and Bo never realized before this moment how much she’d loved these times. How much she would miss these times.
Bo hugged her knees to her chest, her dressing gown wrapped around her legs, and as she heard the notes begin to play that signalled the end of this piece, found herself wanting to cry. Never again would she quietly sit in the corner of this room and hear Max play. Never again would Max turn and smile at her after he’d finished a piece. Never again would she kiss him at the end of a rehearsal. Never again. Never again.
When at last Max’s hands stopped, and silence filled the room, he turned to the corner to look at her blankly.
“You didn’t knock,” he said flatly, and Bo shrugged.
“I never needed to before.”
There was no smile at this shared past. No smile at this hint towards their shared intimacy. Instead, Max sighed, before he looked at the clock on the mantlepiece.
“Three a.m.,” he stated. “It would be, wouldn’t it?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Bo replied, for no real reason, other than a need to speak.
“I can’t help with that. Why are you here, Bo?”
She chewed on her lip. “I need to tell you something.”
“If it’s that you find my personality as repulsive as you apparently find my face, I’ll pass on hearing that information. There’s only so many mortal wounds a man’s pride can take in one evening.”
She shook her head. “I don’t find you repulsive, Max.”
“No?” Max gave an ugly laugh. “Mr Two out of Ten, remember? Someone you tolerate only because I’m good at fucking you?”
Bo winced. “Max, look—”
“No, you look.” Max’s voice was ice cold. “Do me a favour, Bo, and get the hell away from me. Do you know how hurtful what you said was? Do you? I don’t know if you do.”
“I do!” Bo protested. “If I could go back in time and not say that . . . that awful, fucking horrible thing I said, I would. I can’t though. I can’t go back and take it back, no matter how much I might want to.”
“You mean, you did say it?”
Bo took a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”
Max shook his head at her in disgust. “What’s the point of you being so beautiful if you’re so fucking ugly inside?”
That was too much, and Bo leaped to her feet. “You’re one to talk,” she spat back.
“What do you mean by that?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I mean, I know exactly what you think of me too, you know.”
“Do you now?” Max crossed his arms too, mirroring her pose. “I don’t think you do.”
“I do,” Bo insisted. “Raphaella said everything.”
At his ex-girlfriend’s name, Max’s face went stony. “You spoke to Raphaella?”
“No. I overheard her,” Bo confessed unhappily. “You should have kept your guests off my property. She was talking to a friend about you, and she happened to mention the woman you were seeing. She meant me, right? Unless you were sleeping with someone else when we were together.”
Max said nothing. He stared at her, his face still stone-like, as though waiting for her to go on. Bo inhaled deeply.
“You said that I was just a fling. A talentless, brainless fling. Just an out-of-work actress,” Bo’s voice cracked as the awful reality of those words and this moment settled upon her. “And a woman you could never be serious about.” Hot, angry tears built in Bo’s eyes, and she wiped at them furiously.
