We look at each other and laugh.
He rests his hand on the back of my chair and strokes my hair, and I tilt my head back, close my eyes, and let the Florida sunshine wash over my face.
“You don't have to carry me everywhere, you know.”
Max sets me on the sofa, then climbs on and arranges pillows behind me.
“I know. But it was faster.” He gestures. “Here, lean back.”
I scoot to the pillows and sink against them.
He'd been like this all day — steering me through the rehearsal, managing my crutches at the barbecue, fixing me a plate, appearing at my elbow whenever I needed something before I'd had a chance to ask. I'm not used to this. I'm not sure what to do with his attention.
I’m also not sure how to handle the feeling that I really like all of Max’s attention.
“You're being so kind to me. Why?”
He grins and shrugs, which is not really an answer, but as I’m coming to understand, it’s a very Max answer.
“I need to tell your mother she did a wonderful job raising you.”
“She'll be pleased to hear it.” He perches on the end of the bed. “You going to be okay alone tonight?”
“I'll be fine. Go! It's your brother's bachelor party. You can't miss that.” I reach for his hand and squeeze. “Night fishing sounds genuinely cool, though.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Maybe once you're on your feet in a few weeks we can get Remy to take us out. It's even better in summer when the heat breaks at night.”
“I'm in.” I pause, aware I won't be here in summer — aware that by the time I'm capable of going on a boat, Max will probably be back in New York. “Just don't let me hang off the side while I’m taking photos. I’ll probably fall in and get eaten by a gator.”
He laughs. Then he brushes my hair back from my face and leans in for a kiss. Soft and unhurried. My stomach unknots.
“I've wanted to do that all day,” I say against his mouth.
“Same.” He pulls back just enough to look at me. “I wasn't sure if you wanted everyone to know.”
“I don't mind if they know.” I look up at him. “Do you?”
“Not remotely.”
We kiss again, longer this time, and when we finally break apart I have to catch my breath.
“You'd better go,” I whisper. “It's nearly seven.”
He stands, reluctantly. “I'll text you later.”
“Is there cell service on the river?”
“Spotty. I'll try.” He leans down and presses one more kiss to my forehead. “Get some rest. Tomorrow's the big day.”
“I know.” I squeeze his hand. “No strip clubs.”
He scowls. “Absolutely not. I can't speak for Remy, but that's not my thing.”
Because a man that good-looking doesn't have to pay for attention.I grin. “Go.”
As he reaches the door there's a knock from the other side.
“That’s probably Kate,” I call out.
