Page 68 of On The Edge

Just like earlier this morning. But the difference between last night and right now is one thing: fucking guilt.

It’s a useless emotion I never feel and yet here I am, sitting here fucking feeling it when it comes to Madds. Again.

This shit has got to stop. And stop quick.

I see women. I fuck women. We walk away. I don’t worry about what the press prints about them because they want the words to be printed. They want the notoriety that comes with being with me.

But not Maddix.

Fuck, man.

Her head slips again and her whole body jerks in correction.

I react without thinking. I rise from my seat and move to the opposite side of the table to sit beside her.

She mumbles when I put my arm around her. She resists momentarily when I position her head on my chest.

Then she settles down and her breathing falls off again.

But I sit there for a long time with the scent of her shampoo on my nose, the tickle of her hair on my cheek, and the warmth of her body beside mine.

What the hell am I doing?

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Maddix

Dad: Baby girl. Pressure only turns stones into diamonds. Sparkle and shine.

Two things surprised me when we landed in Monaco.

The text from my dad, a man of few words and even fewer texts. But those eleven words greeted me when I woke up and brought relieved tears in my eyes.

The second was waking up to feeling an arm around me and a heart beating beneath my cheek. It took me a few moments to realize where I was and who I was partially lying on. And for a brief moment, I allowed myself to sink into the feeling. His warmth. His steady heartbeat. The feeling of comfort. His slow, even breathing as he slept.

It was something I didn’t realize I needed, didn’t realize he could even give me, but he did without me knowing it and that goes a long way with me.

And right before the plane landed, when he thought I was still asleep, he slipped out from beside me, tucked the blanket back around me, and moved back to his seat as if it never happened.

It was his apology. This morning’s cup of coffee but on a much bigger scale.

And why does his gesture seem more significant than anything Michael ever did for me?

Because it’s out of character. Because he did it and it wasn’t for show. In fact, he did it never thinking I knew it happened. And it was something I really needed. That means a lot to me.

Slow down, Madds. He was nice after you read him the riot act. Do not read into it.

Sitting here beside him as he drives the winding roads through the hills from the airport in Nice to Monaco, I focus on that.

On the soft side to Cruz Navarro. A side he clearly chooses to hide from the world. A side I like and hope to see again.

But all of these thoughts get muddied with the virtual chaos around us. The call from my mom. The articles online. The stomach-churning press about me.

I can’t do a single thing about it though. What’s out in the world can’t be taken back. All I can do is take a deep breath, relax, and try to appreciate my surroundings as much as possible.

My new home away from home.

“This is stunning,” I murmur, as we make the descent into Monaco. From afar, the city looks tiny in size but gigantic in stature. A harbor bobs at its center with gigantic yachts in row upon row. Sports cars of every make and model drive around us and beside us. The hotels and buildings are lavish in their exterior and stature. I’ve never felt like I’ve stepped onto a movie set until now.