My cheeks heat with the realization that several people are watching us. I fear that I’ve upset Antoine, and maybe even gotten Max in trouble on the job, but I swear Antoine winks at him before we turn to go.
Max uses his fob so we can travel up the elevator to the fourth floor. “I don’t like you talking like that,” he says, turning to me with a resolute look in his eyes. “What you said downstairs. Who cares what anyone thinks I deserve? What matters is what Iwant.”
“And what do you want, Max Weber?”
“What I’ve always wanted. It’s what I’ve been telling you on all those ninety-five voicemails that I want. What I’m going to want until the day I die.”
There are a million things I need to tell him, but the pull to be closer to Max overwhelms me. Like he can read my mind, he steps forward and we curve into each other like we’ve always belonged there—my arms twist around his torso, his hand strokes my lower back, and our foreheads touch. The elevatordings and the doors open, but rather than lead me to his office, he cups my face and kisses me so sweetly my insides nearly explode. My past, present, and future click into place, and I moan in relief.
“You’re right, this is better than a phone call,” he says, tracing a path with his lips along my jaw. “I love you, Daze. I love you, I love you, I love you. What took you so long to get here?”
“Traffic was pretty bad. I landed like three hours ago.”
He nips at my neck. “Smart-ass.”
I giggle and pull him closer, only mildly aware that the elevator started moving again. “I had to figure out Mirage stuff.”
“Please tell me you didn’t leave poor Stacey alone.”
With a playful smack on his arm, I meet his eyes. “No. Oona’s experience running a massage studio came in handy. She and my dad are actually watching the place for a bit until I sort things out.”
“Sort out what, exactly?”
Life. Dad and Oona offered to handle The Mirage for six months to give me the chance to pursue whatever I wanted. Max, a new career, anything. My dad didn’t want me to feel stuck.
After a successful town hall a few weeks ago, I’ve seen a steady uptick in reservations. Fuller weekends and fewer cancellations are on the horizon. The updated zoning laws Dawn and I fought for go into effect January 1, and some of the money-hungry homeshares are already going dark—so I wasn’t leaving my dad and Oona with a ticking time bomb. And with some wedding deposits thanks to Dawn’s revised review and my more regular social media posting, I can take a moment to really consider what I want.
When I handed them the keys, I wept for a full twenty-four hours straight. I wasn’t sad. I just couldn’t remember having so much room to breathe. For the first time in two years, I could prioritize my desires, my needs.
And top of that list was Max.
“I need to sort out whether you’ll take me back,” I say. “I can’t move here, but I can stay with you for a few months at a time. Maybe when you’re traveling, I could join up. I…” I search his eyes, urging him to understand. “I spent too long thinking that Harlow tore my parents apart. That when someone gives something up in a relationship, it only leads to resentment, and I didn’t want that for us. When you talked about staying in Harlow, I saw it as this immense sacrifice.”
“It was never that for me. Growing up, I might have given you reasons to believe that all I wanted was to leave my hometown, but now? I don’t care what I give up for you. To be with you, I would do anything.”
“I get that. Holding you back paralyzed me, but I think I was holding myself back, too—doing what I believed I needed to do and not what was in my heart.”
“So what doyouwant, Daisy Johnson?” He smirks, tossing my question back at me.
“I want to give us a chance. I don’t know what that’ll look like, but I want to work with you and figure it out together.” I let out a wet laugh as he wipes my cheeks with the pad of his thumb. “I have to find out who I am when I’m not running the hotel and I’m chasing my own dreams instead. Oh, and I have to get back for Gwen’s birth. But otherwise, I just want to spend my days loving you.”
He shuts me up with a kiss, and the elevator chimes again. Someone clears their throat, and Max and I turn to see a blushing man with a walker and his wife. Max straightens up and takes a half step away, leaving his hand on my hip.
“What floor?” he asks them, holding his fob at the ready.
The old woman smiles, her eyes mischievous like a cat’s. “We’ll catch the next one, dear.”
The doors close, and I use Max’s tie like a leash, pulling him toward me so that I’m sandwiched between his body and the wall.
“Let’s try this again, for real this time,” Max mutters against my lips, and the elevator goes up.
Epilogue
Max, Now—1.5 Years Later
Daisy and I relish weekend lie-ins when we can get them, although usually we don’t use the time for sleeping. Today, though, I let my girl rest, and I watch her chest rise and fall in the morning quiet.
Well, mostly quiet. Freddie snores with every tiny breath he takes, but he’s cute enough, so I allow it.
