“Don’t worry, Mum. I’m sure whatever I find will need altering anyway and you can make it into a turtleneck.” I grin as I finish pairing socks, dropping the last pair on the bed. “Are we done? Max and I are supposed to do maths tonight.”
“Yes. Thank you for your help. Are you going to Max’s or are you Facetiming?”
“Facetime. He had practice tonight. Although…” I raise my eyebrows and give mum my best wide-eyed innocent look. “If you’re saying I can go to Max’s for an hour, I’ll go.”
Mum looks at me, then nods. “Fine. But one hour. It’s already nine-fifteen.”
I don’t give her a chance to change her mind, yelling a thanks over my shoulder as I run to my room to grab my maths book. I run a quick brush through my hair, swirl some mouthwash around in my mouth, then I’m out the door. I don’t text Max until I’m on the sidewalk in front of my house: Hey, on my way over to do maths homework.
Max: You’re coming here? A little in-person tutoring?
Me: Yes. Is that okay?
Max: Definitely. I missed you.
Me: I missed you, too.
Max: How did I get so lucky?
I stare at Max’s question on my screen, my cheeks scrunched up in a cheesy grin. Finally I type back: I was thinking the same thing. See you in a minute.
I shove my phone in my back pocket and stride down the sidewalk towards Max’s. It’s March so the weather is still pretty rubbish, but I’m smiling like it’s summer and it’s all because of Max. I don’t know what I did to get this lucky, but I know enough to appreciate it, that’s for sure.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Max and I are on a boat on the Thames.
Actually, scratch that. Max and I are on a yacht on the Thames. Apparently hiring a yacht for a leisurely private cruise is a thing you can do, complete with flowers, champagne, and an unobtrusive “butler” who’s currently in the kitchen preparing our lunch. It’s a gorgeous sunny day and Max thought it would be nice to take advantage of the late summer weather, so he called on his way down to London to arrange. Here we are. Just like that.
I’m still a little awestruck, and not only by the fact that Max has taken off his shirt and is sitting across from me all tanned and gorgeous in only his shorts. I have my swimming costume in my bag, but my orange maxi dress is perfect – it’s long and flowy so my sweaty skin won’t stick to the leather of the plush bench seat. And it makes me feel like there’s still a small barrier between Max and me that would be gone if I were in my swimsuit.
“You’re going to get uneven tan lines, you know,” Max says, pointing at my shoulders. You can see the tan lines from my bikini top from the week I spent with Tariq, Sharan, and the kids in Portugal in May.
“I’ll risk it. I doubt I’ll be in a swimming costume again until next year anyway.”
“Not a fan of the winter sun getaway?” Max asks. “I seem to remember you hating winter, so that’s surprising.”
“Oh, I still hate winter.” I laugh. “But even though my family celebrates Diwali, we celebrate Christmas, too. And then there’s New Year’s, which is an awkward time to be somewhere else.”
“You do realize winter in the UK is, like, six months long?” Max grins at me. “There’s plenty of time to go away that’s not around a major holiday.”
“True.” I shrug. “I guess I’m lazy, and I don’t love traveling by myself. I’ve done it, but…”
I shrug again. I went interrailing the summer after I finished Sixth Form and it was fun, but it wasn’t enough to make me want to do it for a whole year. I’ve gone on a few girls’ trips too, but they’ve gotten fewer and far between with everyone slowly pairing off.
“How is a woman like you still single?” Max asks. The question is casual, but the look on Max’s face is anything but.
“Just luck, I guess.” My tone matches Max’s and I start to pick at a thread on my dress.
“No, I’m serious.” Max leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “Have you ever been married?”
My eyes fly up to meet his. “Um, no. Have you?”
“No. I had a serious girlfriend a couple years ago, but she hated the fact that I’m a football player.”
“Really? Did she not know that going in?”
“She knew.” Max shakes his head. “We met at an FA Cup game. Well, in a club after an FA Cup game. But the reality of football life didn’t match up to the vision she had of it in her head.”
“How so?”
“She hated that I had to train all the time.” Max laughs, but it’s got a tinge of bitterness around the edges. “And she really hated my diet. She was Italian and the fact that I don’t eat a lot of carbs drove her insane. It ended up being the biggest thing we fought about.”
“Wow.” I bite my lip. I should change the subject because if I don’t, Max has every right to ask me the same types of questions. But curiosity wins over common sense. “Did you live together?”
“For about six months.” Max nods. “We probably shouldn’t have taken that step. But it got to the point where we either needed to take that step or break up, so we moved in together because breaking up seemed too drastic when nothing was really wrong. You know how it is.”
I nod, too, because I do know. Not exactly, but close enough.
“So? What about you?” Max asks. “You haven’t been a nun this whole time, I assume?”
“No.” I shake my head slowly. “I had a kind of serious boyfriend in uni, although in retrospect we were never going to last long term. He was a philosophy major with all of the stereotypes that entailed.”
“Let me guess – long hair, hand-rolled cigarettes, and a favorite meditation app?”
“Spot on, except for the app. He didn’t believe in smart phones.” I roll my eyes, though it didn’t bother me at the time. Only in hindsight did it seem pretentious. Although one of the best things about Luke was how self-absorbed he was.
“Well, at least he remained true to his calling.” Max smiles. “Anyone since uni?”
There’s the million-pound question, right on cue.
I nod. “Yeah. I had a serious boyfriend for about a year, but we broke up six months ago.”
“What happened?” Max’s voice is soft.
“He wanted to marry me.” I bite my lip. “He was everything I thought I wanted. He was smart and successful, funny, kind, handsome, generous. Did I mention kind? Like, he was the nicest guy I’ve ever known, and I loved him. But I wasn’t in love with him. Or not enough, anyway.”
“So you ended it.” Max doesn’t phrase it as a question.
“I wanted to want him, to want a life with him. A big part of me did want it, but it wouldn’t have been for the right reasons.” I make myself look up and meet Max’s eyes. “So, yes, I broke it off.”
Max stares back at me for what feels like a long time before he says, “It’s hard to reconcile what you want when it doesn’t match up to what you feel you should be happy to have.”
“Yes, it is.” It feels like we’re not talking about Tom and me anymore.
But Max’s next words prove it. “I never meant to leave you, you know. Not the way it happened.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Having no time to say a proper goodbye might have been a blessing in disguise.” I shrug like the memory doesn’t still sting all these years later.
“Back then I thought I had to ask ‘how high’ when someone said ‘jump.’ So I did.”
“To be fair, you probably did have to do that back then.” I give him a forced smile. “But everything happens for a reason, right? I mean, look at you now.”
“Look at me now.” Max gives me the same forced smile and for the first time since we’ve reconnected, I feel such a sense of loss it takes my breath away.
I don’t get to dwell on it because the butler comes with trays bearing lunch, but the feeling doesn’t go away. In fact, as Max and I eat lunch things between us get so awkward I feel like I might cry. Finally I drop my fork onto my chin
a plate with a clatter and say, “I think if the rest of the day is going to be like this, I should go home.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“What the hell, T? What do you mean if the rest of the day is going to be like this?” Max’s posture is still relaxed, but his tone has a hard edge.
“This.” I wave my hand in the space between us. “This uncomfortable silence and stilted conversation. I feel like I’m on a bad first date with a guy who lives in his mum’s basement and doesn’t understand basic social graces. I hate feeling that way. Especially with you.”
Max doesn’t say anything at first, but when he speaks his words are careful and measured. “I feel like you’re cross with me, but I’m not sure what I did. I also feel like that talk of the past brought up some bad shit for you.”
It did, but ironically, it didn’t bring up the worst shitty thing, which is shocking.
“You had to go. I get that. But it doesn’t mean I was happy about the way you left.” I shake my head in frustration. “I don’t want to rehash it all because it’s not like we can go back and change any of it.”
“So what do you want?” Max’s gaze narrows on me.
“I want to enjoy your company. You were my favorite memory of high school and seeing you again is nice.”
“Nice? Nice?” Max’s voice rises and he laughs. “Oh my God, I’m relegated to nice now?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Sir Hotness, some people value nice. I value nice.” My voice rises too, but I’m not laughing. “Is that so terrible?”
“Nice is how you’d describe your Aunt Sally or the sandwich you had for lunch.” Max’s voice carries over the water. “It’s not how you describe us.”
“There is no us, Max. There hasn’t been an ‘us’ in over ten years.”
“Whose fault is that? I told you I tried to track you down. I tried to get in touch with you. I looked for you on social media, but there are a hell of a lot of Tara Kapoors in the world, believe it or not. I scoured your old accounts for an idea of where you’d gone but there was nothing. I tried to find Tariq, but he fell off the face of the earth right along with you. I googled you, same problem. It was like you disappeared, but I didn’t. I mean, Jesus Christ, I was on billboards all over England and I find it impossible to believe you didn’t see at least one over the years.” Max isn’t shouting, but he’s close.
But so am I.
“So this is my fault? It’s my fault for not seeking you out after you didn’t tell me you were leaving until the night before you actually left? Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred pounds, do not give your girlfriend any time to say goodbye? How is it my fault that you left and by the time you looked back I was gone?” My voice is shaking, and I sit on my hands so Max won’t see them shaking, too.
“I had to go. You knew that. If that player hadn’t gotten injured, we would have had more time. I never wanted to leave you, but I couldn’t let you convince me to stay.” Max squeezes his eyes shut and when he opens them, he drops his voice and his gaze pierces my soul. “I wanted you to convince me to stay. I loved you, Tara.”
Bloody hell. I feel the tears gather in my throat and I swallow in an attempt to will them away.
“I loved you too, Max.” My voice is hoarse but at least my cheeks are dry. “That’s why it hurt so much.”
Max reaches out and runs a thumb over my cheek in a whisper soft motion that I should barely feel. Instead it burns like hot coal. “I hate that I hurt you. I’m sorry.”
I try to look away, but dammit, those eyes have me pinned like a voodoo doll.
“Thank you. It helps to hear you say that.” I let out a shaky breath that grows more uneven as Max takes my small hand and clasps it in both of his big ones.
I always loved holding hands with Max. It made me feel grounded and safe, although now it’s having the opposite effect.
“Will you give me a second chance?” Max’s voice is soft now.
“A second chance for what?” My eyes are wide and my heart is a greyhound sprinting around the track.
“Us?” Max shrugs a little. “I know you said there is no us, but maybe there could be?”
“You want to…?” I let my voice trail off. It’s not like I can ask if he wants to get back together. It’s been too long for that.
“Date you, if you’ll have me?” Max gives me a tentative grin. “Kiss you, if you’ll let me. I’ve wanted to kiss you again for a long, long time.”
“Me too,” I whisper.
Max leans over and kisses me then. It’s so soft and gentle, but instantly familiar. The shape of his lips, his breath mingling with mine, his hand cupping my neck is a delicious déjà vu. He sweeps his tongue over my bottom lip and I’m both transported back to high school and lost in this moment. But when his tongue finally teases and meets mine, I feel a cavern unlock so deep inside me that it takes my breath away. Because kissing Max Foster is unlike kissing anyone else.
Kissing Max Foster is home.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Max and I have been making out around London for the past few hours since getting off the boat. So far, he’s kissed me senseless outside Borough Market, on a side street in Westminster, and waiting in line for ice cream in Soho. It’s been heady and delicious, but it’s closing in on dinner time and a natural end to the day.
Or a continuation.
Because if we decide to have dinner together, Max will insist on walking me home, I’ll invite him up, and…then what?
What should I do about turning lunch into dinner with Max? I shoot off a quick text to Scarlett while Max is in the loo.
Thank God she’s at the other end of her phone. Have dinner…then dessert.
I nod at my phone. That’s exactly what I should do. Exactly what I’ve done with other so-called flings – although Mikhail never came to my flat, thank God. He’s not the kind of guy you want having your address.
My phone pings again with another text from Scarlett: But your status with Max isn’t written in stone. Just a reminder.
No, but it should be. Being with Max today has been amazing, and it’s easy to see us spending more time together. I can see us capital T Together. But being with Max – truly with him – means telling him the truth about all those years ago. Which would destroy us anyway. So I can either have the temporary version of him or not at all.
No brainer.
I type quickly back to Scarlett: I know. Any chance you and Bradley want to meet us for dinner?
Scarlett: Rain check? I’ve been painting all day and I’m shattered.
Me: Oh? New artwork?
Scarlett’s an amazing artist. One day she’ll have her own gallery show and it will be incredible.
Scarlett: Ha, if only. Painting our home office.
She sends me a photo of all the furniture pushed to the middle of the room and slate-blue walls.
Me: It looks great. Relax and enjoy your night. We’ll double date next time.
“Sorry about that,” Max calls from a few feet away. “There was a queue.”
“A queue for the men’s room? That’s almost unheard of.” I stand up and Max puts his arm around my shoulder. It’s only been a day, but it already feels warm and familiar.
“I know, right?” Max glances down at me as we start to walk towards the exit. “So what next? I have training tomorrow at one, and I’m at your beck and call until you decide you’ve had enough of me. Or tomorrow at about eight a.m., whichever comes first.”
“Well I have to be at work at eight, so I’ll have to kick you out before then.”
“So… what does that mean?” Max slows to a shuffle. “Because an optimistic man would say that sounds a lot like you inviting me to stay.”
“It sounds that way to me too?” I shrug but my insides feel like they’re being shoved into a too-tight sweater and I’m not sure I can take a deep breath in right now.
“Are you sure?” Max’s gaze is intent on mine. “I mean, I don’t have any expectations, T.”
&n
bsp; “I’m not ready to say goodnight to you yet, that’s all. Why don’t we…” I let my voice trail off because I have no idea how to finish that sentence. But Max isn’t going to invite himself back to my place, and even though I’ve practically already invited him, I haven’t said the words. “Why don’t we get some food and we can bring it back to mine? Maybe we can find some old episodes of Merlin to watch?”
“Please tell me you outgrew that show. Or is it that you’re interested in the guy who plays Merlin? You might not realize it, but I saw you ogling him plenty.” Max grins and the sweater binding my insides loosens at least a size.
“Did you know he was in The Fall? And Humans? He’s come a long way since his inauspicious wizardly beginnings.” My voice softens as I continue. “I will say, though, you mocking that show with me was way more fun than I’ll ever admit.”
“I would never mock you, T.” Max laughs and then says, “Are we going to get pizza then? For old time’s sake?”
“Obviously.” I grin back and tug Max out the door.
We stop by Gino’s, my default pizza place, and get a pizza and an order of aubergine parmesan, then head back to my flat. As I turn the key in the lock, I try to remember how I left things this morning. I’m not a total slob, so I’m not worried about that, but I feel like I have to say, “I can’t remember if my flat is fit for company or not, so maybe turn a blind eye?”
“I’m not coming over here to see how clean your flat is.” Max gives me that look of his.
“So what are you coming over here for?” I intend to sound flirtatious, but my voice comes out breathy and soft.
“You.” Max follows me in the door and as I put the takeaway bag down on the table in the foyer, he spins me around to face him. “I’m here for you.”
Then his mouth is on mine and this is nothing like the kisses we shared earlier. This is all hunger and need and twelve years of pent up desire spilling over. I grip Max’s shirt and pull him to me as he weaves his hands through my hair. Our kisses are ferocious – a clashing of teeth and tangling of tongues – and I’m glad it’s so physical because it keeps the emotion from overwhelming me.
A Brit Player Page 11