Chapter Thirty-One

Max was staring at my face, an inscrutable look on his own. Should I invite him into Fizz to get a drink? But it was loud in there, and I was sure Micki and Joe would want the whole Sex Ghost scoop. Frankly, I was done with Westley for the night. Hopefully, for life.

“Walk me home?” I finally said.

Max shrugged. “Sure.”

Stalling, I sent a quick text to Roz and Micki, letting them know that I was heading home. Max just walked next to me, not saying a word.

Talk, Tess. I opened my mouth, but the words I really wanted to say didn’t come out. Apparently, I needed to ease in with some small talk. “Everyone really missed you at the office this week,” I said truthfully. “I’m so sorry that didn’t work out.”

“It’s fine,” he said, surprising me. “You guys were great, and the last couple of weeks have really got me thinking about what I should do next.”

“Oh?” We turned the corner and ambled slowly in the direction of my apartment building. A stiff breeze was blowing, but I couldn’t feel the cold. I had way too much adrenaline in my system, partly from the Westley encounter but more from Max.

“The past year I’ve been focused on finding a full-time job like the one I lost,” he explained. “But contracting is actually a really good solution for me. I’d never thought of it before you, but I have a lot of contacts who can bring me in to less-scrutinized, under-the-radar kinds of temp positions. I can pay the bills that way and keep learning different stuff and meeting new people. If it leads to something permanent, great. If not, it keeps me solvent and my mind active. Who knows? Maybe I’ll be struck with inspiration and come up with another product to develop, like the ransomware. Or maybe I’ll pursue a second option.”

“Second option?”

He grinned down at me. “Did you know that the FBI has an enormous cyber-crime division?”

I hadn’t been wrong at all about Max. He was definitely a knight. “The Ghost Killer has a taste for taking down online villains, eh?” I asked, delighted.

“Maybe a little.” He paused a moment. “What do you think?”

Exactly what I had thought from the moment he’d saved me. “You’re a hero. It’s a great idea.”

We walked another block in silence. I could see my apartment building in the distance and dreaded our approach. What if he deposited me at the door and walked away before I could get the damn words out?

Max started chuckling. “I still can’t believe you dropped him on the ground like that. You did it so easily! It was incredible.” He gave me a sideways glance, eyes mischievous. “Frankly, you terrify me.”

I wasn’t going to get a better opening than that.

“You terrify me too.” Ugh, my voice was actually shaking.

He stopped walking altogether, leaving me no choice but to stop too. I could feel his gaze, but my own was now refusing to leave the ground. “Explain that to me,” he said softly. His voice was so kind I almost lost my breath.

I didn’t know how to begin. What if I started in the wrong place or said the exact wrong thing? How could I explain that my scrambled brain had mixed up the past and present? He waited a full minute while I stared at the ground in silence.

Maybe saying nothing was the only wrong thing.

“M-my fiancé, Daniel, was a wonderful man,” I stammered. “He was kind to me and my family. I leaned on him when I was in danger of falling over.” Yuck, could I get more dramatic? What was I, the star of a soap opera? Puke.

But Max just nodded. “Go on.”

“I freaked out at the brunch because Kat compared you to Daniel,” I said quickly, aware that I was jumping around chronologically and hoping he’d follow. “Even though he was wonderful, he didn’t really know me. The real me. At all. I figured out too late that marrying him would have meant choosing him over me and the life I wanted to lead. And I couldn’t do that… I chose myself. To get out of the wedding, I did something horrible.” I figured I didn’t quite need to mention the cousin again. That little tidbit was probably burned in Max’s brain for all of eternity.

“Ending the relationship was the right thing to do. He didn’t know me and I wasn’t in love with him. But I’ve never forgotten how hurtful I was.” Here was the crux of it. Could I make him understand? “I freaked out because I didn’t want to hurt you like that.”

With the words out, I finally managed to look up from the pavement and at his face. To my dismay, he looked crushed. Damn it! What had I said wrong?

Max took off his glasses. “Ah. So you feel the same way about me that you felt about him? You care, but not in the right way.” He did a strange raspy cough. “You don’t think you’d ever fall—”

“Oh!” I exclaimed, finally getting it. “No! Max! That’s the whole thing. It’s completely different.” I babbled. “I’m half in love with you already.”

Oh boy. Now I shut up fast. My face felt like someone had taken a flamethrower to it. I peeped at Max out of the corner of my eye. He was looking away as well, but there was a definite smile on his lips.

“I suck at this,” I mumbled. But I cleared my throat, determined that he’d understand. “When Kat compared you to Daniel, I freaked out because I remembered how I’d had to make a choice between being myself and being with the man in my life. But that was stupid. You and Daniel are only similar on the surface. With you, I didn’t have to choose. You knew—and liked—the actual me.”

I sighed, miserably, thinking of the last week and how much I’d missed him and how awful I’d felt every single moment. It was time to grovel. “Once I figured it out, I wanted to erase everything I said. I still can’t believe how I acted. I was so wrong! So wrong to push you away. So wrong and sorry—”

“Tess.” He put a finger on my lips. It felt so good to have him touching me again that all the words vanished from my mouth and I pushed my face harder against his finger. He dropped it—but only to gently cup his hand around the back of my neck.

He stared down at me, his eyes crinkled at the corners. I was glad he wasn’t wearing his glasses. There were no barriers between us. “I’m not one to judge actions in old relationships. I was making a huge mistake myself. A mistake of…passivity. If it weren’t for Aria being brave, I’d be married to her right now.”

Wow. I hadn’t thought about it like that before. I needed to send that woman flowers or something. He leaned down so that our noses rubbed. “Do you know, the night we first met, I went home and thought ‘What if I’d met that girl’—you—’after I was already married?’”

He stood up straight, widening his eyes for effect. “It was the first time I realized what a near miss I’d had.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “What if, Tess? What if I’d never gotten to feel the way I do…” He leaned down again, pausing with his lips an inch above my own. “Right now.” And then he was kissing me. In seconds, I was on my tiptoes with my arms around his neck. He tasted so good—like relief and joy, passion and hope. I was ready to kiss him for hours, maybe days.

But he pulled away and looked down at me. “I think I know why you chose an anchor for your tattoo.”

I blinked at the non sequitur. He’d been wondering about the meaning of my tattoo? I certainly hadn’t expected him to give it much thought. But that was Max. His brain never stopped working. For some reason, I was lucky enough to have it focused on me. “Oh yeah?”

His gaze was direct and loving. “An anchor is a symbol for strength and stability. It’s something that holds you in place. It provides the means to hold on, no matter how rough things get.”

I nodded, holding my breath. When I’d explained the anchor symbolism, in almost the exact same way, to Daniel all those years ago, he’d immediately seized me to him. “Oh, darling,” he said. “I understand. You’ve been looking for an anchor. From now on, I’m it.” It had been such a lovely sentiment and so heartfelt that I’d never corrected him. Never told him he was dead wrong.

Max went on. “Obviously, I don’t know everything about you. Yet. But…you’re the anchor. Right? You got it as a reminder to yourself that you have the strength to hold everything in place.”

To my horror, my eyes flooded with tears. Because yes. That was exactly right.

“In your nonsensical speech at the brunch, you said that I was the kind of person who wants to build a life around someone. That’s inaccurate, Boots. I want to build a life with someone, not around them.”

He looked away, a telltale flush blooming on his cheeks. “I know we’re in early days yet, but a woman who prides herself on her strength is exactly the kind of person I want to build a life with.”

Exhilarated butterflies swam into my stomach and began to do backflips. I was a little afraid that a loud giggle-scream would erupt from my mouth at any moment. I’d met him as the “Good Time” and I’d certainly lived up to my Disaster Girl moniker, and yet Max still saw me as the anchor, my own most treasured self-image. How much luckier could I get?

Max was right. We were in early days. But it was incredibly easy to envision a future that involved him. More nights laughing together. Those “real dates” we’d never been on. Getting to know his quirks and kinks. Watching him battle Roz for the best dirty one-liners. Lazy Saturday mornings intertwined in bed. Coming home after a long day to vent about work issues. Taking him with me on a visit out to see Kat. Charming his parents and big brothers while being a questionable influence on the dating of his younger sisters. Cheering on his brilliance as he demolished other internet assholes.

He cleared his throat in an embarrassed sort of way, and I realized I hadn’t spoken in quite some time. “Well, OK,” I said nonchalantly. “If you want to work on the other half, I guess I’m up for it.”

His brow crinkled in confusion. “The other half?”

“Yeah,” I said, in my best smart-ass tone. “Like I said, I’m only half in love with you right now. If you want to try for the other half, you can.” I knew my wide, vulnerable eyes didn’t match the cocky voice or words, but with Max, that was OK.

A wide grin covered his face, and he nodded briskly. “Let’s go upstairs and I’ll get to work.”

The End

About the Author

There are only three things Michelle Dayton loves more than sexy and suspenseful novels: her family, the city of Chicago, and Mr. Darcy. Michelle dreams of a year of world travel – as long as the trip would include weeks and weeks of beach time. As a bourbon lover and unabashed wine snob, Michelle thinks heaven is discussing a good book over an adult beverage.

Visit her website at michelledayton dot com