“You’ve been through many terrible things, but that doesn’t make you any less deserving of happiness or love. I know you can’t see it right now, but I can.” I lifted his chin so his eyes met mine. “Of course you’ve changed some. It’s been ten years—I’d be shocked if you hadn’t. You’re still you, though. You swear too much and have questionable clothing choices.”
“If this is supposed to make me feel better, you’ve missed the fucking mark,” he grumbled.
“You have an insatiable sweet tooth and a devil-may-care attitude that has never stopped getting you into trouble. All of these things about you are true, Rem. Yet you’re also compassionate. You can try to hide it from others as much as you want, but I’ve always seen it. You have a huge heart, and you try to see the good in people. That’s why when they let you down it hurts so much more.”
Remy shifted uncomfortably, then made to stand. I reached for him, but he was too fast for me to catch. He paced back and forth next to the couch, his wild eyes flitting between me and the door. I wasn’t going to let him leave. Not when I now knew that he truly wanted to stay; he just couldn’t let himself believe he was worthy.
He craved love and affection—he thrived on it. I needed him to stay so that I could show him those things. I’d give Remy every part of my soul if it would make him happy.
“Don’t run,” I scraped out, unable to mask the fear in my voice entirely. I slowly rose to my feet, not breaking eye contact with him. “Please stay. Stay with me, love.”
“I—” His voice cracked, and he sucked in a sharp breath. “I can’t. I have no right.”
With my hands held out in front of me and angled to the sides, I approached Remy as if he were a wounded animal. In a way, he was. “Remy,” I cooed. “If you can’t stay for you, can you do it for me? Just until you’re able to do it for yourself.”
His entire body froze. I didn’t even think he was breathing.
“It’s selfish of me to ask, but I’m desperate. I need you,” I repeated, hoping he’d hear the honesty in my words. “Please don’t leave me again.”
Remy nodded, and with all the fight in him gone, he fell to his knees and began sobbing. I was next to him in two steps and knelt in front of him. He looked up at me, then lunged, wrapping his arms tight around my neck while he cried.
“I’ve got you, love,” I whispered again and again in his ear, and he cried harder. Through all of the tears and choked sobs, I kept him close against my chest and vowed to make him happy. I held him like he was the most precious thing in the world, and I would continue to do so with all of my strength until he understood that.
Thirteen
Remy
In the days following my complete fucking meltdown, Maxim had—understandably—been keeping a close eye on me. He wasn’t at all overbearing or controlling, but it was clear he was worried about me. How could he not be after what I’d confessed? During my emotional word vomit I’d almost let it slip that I’d tried to kill myself. Maxim could never know that.
Maxim gave me space when I needed or wanted it, which admittedly wasn’t often, but he was even more tactile and affectionate with me. It was like he’d stopped holding back and could finally love me the way he wanted.
Love. He hadn’t said it again in the last week. Really, he didn’t have to. It was in every touch, every kiss, and every dopey smile he threw my way. Maxim was a lovesick fool, and it was refreshing seeing him act so comfortably again. He didn’t even try to hide it from his friends, though he wouldn’t confirm anything either. He merely shrugged or grunted whenever Mac asked. I figured that too was for my benefit.
As happy as he seemed in being able to love me freely, there was something I couldn’t stop thinking about. That day I’d come back and found Maxim in the kitchen, something had been bothering him. My fucked-up issues had taken the spotlight that day, and Max seemed fine ever since, but I knew he was hiding something. Perhaps it took a liar to spot one.
Knowing Maxim as well as I did, I knew there weren’t many things he’d lie about. There was just one, really: his scar. He was always aware of it, but he used to fixate on it sometimes to the point where he couldn’t think about anything else. Though infrequent, it came in waves. He’d withdraw into himself and away from friends, and even from me sometimes.
I had no way to know for sure without asking Mac or Bryan, but I thought it was safe to assume that Maxim didn’t have anyone pushing him outside of his limited comfort zone after I’d left. I hadn’t asked him, though it wasn’t necessary to know he hadn’t dated much after I’d left. Sex, sure. Actually letting someone in and loving them? Not a chance.
Maxim let in so few people that I doubted anyone other than Mac had any idea about the scope of his insecurity. To Maxim’s credit, he hid it well. That just made it harder for others to help. As much as I wished he’d be honest and tell me the extent of how much the scar bothered him, I couldn’t demand he do so. I had less than zero right to demand honesty anyway. Besides, he’d deny that it was as big of an issue as it so very clearly was.
It was early enough to still be dark out, and I’d been awake with a busy mind since Maxim left for the gym about an hour ago. He’d mentioned going early before Bryan had to go to work. He had better sense than to ask me if I was coming along.
Sighing in defeat, I pushed the covers back and got up to go get my MacBook from the living room. I wasn’t ready to be up for the day yet, so I climbed back in bed with it and opened up my email. There wasn’t anything useful—shocker. Anyone who gave a shit would text or call. These days that list was exclusive to Maxim or Roz. Speaking of, I had an unread iMessage that had to be from Roz. I kept my phone on the nightstand and it hadn’t gone off since Maxim had left. I opened the message, and sure enough, it was a meme from Roz.
I opened Tumblr to find an appropriate one to reply with when an inspirational quote about not suffering in silence caught my attention. It reminded me that people didn’t always reach out for help with their mental health. It was something I should have realized, considering I was one of those fucking people. It got me thinking more about Maxim, and what he might be going through.
It didn’t take much research to find a name for what he was likely experiencing: some degree of body dysmorphic disorder. I wasn’t a fucking doctor, but it sounded pretty damn accurate. I’d always known that Maxim hated his scar and that it made him insecure, but the degree to which it could be plaguing him hadn’t crossed my mind.
Looking back, I now saw how his preoccupation was more of an obsession, how his shy nature was more like purposeful avoidance, and why he couldn’t seem to believe me whenever I’d tell him how gorgeous he was, or in particular, how sexy I thought his scar was. There were other signs that fit, like his interest in fitness and the constant scruff. The more I read, the more I felt for him and chided myself for not taking his concern as seriously as I could have.
I felt a bit better after I read that exposure therapy was one of the methods used to treat the disorder, but I still kicked myself for not recognizing this as something more than just Maxim being Maxim. I was supposed to be the person who knew him better than anyone else, even after all of our time apart. If he’d been suffering through this alone for over a decade… fuck, I couldn’t dwell on that.
There wasn’t a single fucking thing I could do to change the past. What I could do was try to limit Maxim’s dark days going forward, like he did for me. Valentine’s Day was in a week, and we’d already agreed to handle it like the last couple of holidays we’d spent together. I had no money, but I’d find a way to surprise him. It wouldn’t be much in the grand scheme, though it’d be a start.
I texted Maxim from inside Eat Cake and let him know I was going out for breakfast with my sister. It was a lie, yes, but my intentions were noble. I’d arrived before Bryan finished at the gym, so I ordered an Americano and one donut, instead of the dozen I wanted. A cute blond rang me up, then I took a seat by the front window where I’d be able to see
Bryan coming.
His jet-black hair came into view a few minutes after I’d finished my most nutritional breakfast and was considering a second. I drained the last of my drink, jumped up, and tossed the disposable cup into a trash bin when Bryan walked through the door. He greeted his employee with a wide smile, then his pale green eyes shifted to me. Jeez, he’s hot.
“Remy, hi,” he said with clear surprise. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“Hey—sorry to just drop in on you.”
“No, no, you’re welcome any time. Maxim had just said you were…” His voice trailed off and his brow creased before he glanced around at the two other people seated and getting their morning caffeine fixes.
“My sister isn’t here. I told Max I was meeting her so he wouldn’t suspect anything.”
Bryan cocked a brow at that.
“Wow, shit. That sounded sketchy as hell. I just want to surprise him for Valentine’s Day. I was hoping to talk to you about maybe showing me how to bake something for him. If you have the time.”
Bryan’s expression immediately softened and the corner of his mouth quirked. “Of course. I’ll help any way I can, man.”
Relief flooded me, and my shoulders sagged. “Thank fuck. Rather, thank you. I don’t know what Maxim has told you about me, but I don’t exactly have a lot I can offer him. He’s not huge on super sweet things, though he does like a tamer dessert. Maybe something with fruit or nuts… I don’t know.”
Bryan nodded toward the door that led to the kitchen and storage areas. “Come with me,” he said before he headed for the door. I followed him to a small coat closet and watched as he shrugged out of his jacket.
“Two things, Remy. First, Maxim is very tightlipped about your business and what goes on—or doesn’t—between the two of you. You probably already know this, but you don’t have to worry about him gossiping about your personal affairs. Today was an exception. Mac was snooping on Maxim’s phone when your text came through.
“Second, I might not know the details, but I can clearly see that Maxim is happier than he was before your arrival. That’s a lot where a guy like him is concerned. He’s not into the superficial bullshit that surrounds Valentine’s Day. I think your approach is going to make him melt.”
“Really?” I asked, hating how unsure I sounded. I knew Maxim. I knew what he liked, yet I found myself questioning everything I did after the other day. I fuckin’ hated it.
“God, yes. I don’t know him as well as you or Mac, but I’m confident on this.”
I sighed and slumped against the doorframe. “Thanks. I’m all fucked up and out of sorts right now. I’m second-guessing everything.”
“It’s okay. We’ve all been there. Were you going to take off your jacket?”
It was my turn to furrow my brow. “Why?”
“I have time today to test out a few recipes with you. Once you decide on one, we can arrange for you to come back and bake a fresh one, if you want. Or I can send you home with the instructions and ingredients.”
The thought of me trying to bake anything as gorgeous as Bryan’s desserts solo made me groan. That was drama I didn’t need. “If you really don’t mind, I’d like to come back to bake a fresh one. Even with directions, I’d find a way to fuck things up.”
He smirked and nodded his head to the side. “Fucking up is a rite of passage with cooking and baking. Even now, some new desserts I make are horrendous. It’s all part of the journey.”
I shimmied my coat down my arms, then handed it to Bryan’s outstretched hand. “Thanks again for this.”
Bryan clapped me on the shoulder in a friendly gesture that almost made my fucking eyes go glassy. “Don’t sweat it. Take off your boots too. What size are your feet?”
“Ten.”
“Perfect, you can wear Eli’s clogs.” He handed me a pair of hideous leather shoes with massive treaded soles. “Don’t make that face. They’re just for the kitchen. One, to eliminate outside dirt, two, so someone doesn’t slip and break something, and three, they are literal clouds for your feet. Well, okay, not literally, but they feel amazing.”
“You’re the boss. I’ll warn you in advance that I’m not the most… competent person in a kitchen. I can make basic things and they taste all right, but I’m not that skilled.”
Bryan’s smile turned cocky, though the dimples under his dark scruff just made him look cute and sweet. “Good thing I’m a badass pâtissier.”
Trust me, it’s a great thing.
February thirteenth wasn’t Valentine’s Day, but when you were trying to surprise the guy you were more or less living with, it was fuckin’ close enough. Bryan did me a solid and got Maxim out of the apartment for an evening gym sesh. To ensure they’d be gone long enough for me to get everything ready, Bryan had invited that Axel kid from the New Year’s party.
He was harmless, yet I still found myself grinding my teeth in jealousy on my way to and from Eat Cake to pick up the cake Bryan and I had made yesterday. With the last of the leftover money from the last time I went out with Roz, I stopped into a flower shop and wandered around all of the other desperate boyfriends and husbands doing their last-minute shopping. I had enough for a small bouquet, but I opted for a single purple calla lily. It was pretty, yet simple, and I thought Maxim would like that. He loved the purple in my neck and back tattoos, so that made choosing the color easy enough. When I left the flower shop, I was feeling pretty damn good about how the evening would go.
With the food all prepped and keeping warm in the oven, I set out to clean and set the table in the living room. We’d be sitting on the couch or floor, but I still wanted it to be nice for Max. I wiped down the table and stashed away the coasters, unopened mail, and remote.
I’d knocked some crumbs on the freshly vacuumed floor, then cursed myself while I vacuumed the floor again. Perhaps next time I’d save the fuckin’ vacuuming for last. Once I was satisfied that the apartment was sufficiently clean, I went back to the kitchen to grab the calla lily. I unwrapped it then stared at it blankly while it sunk in that I’d forgotten to get something to put it in. Groaning at my oversight, I checked the cupboards for something suitable, and came up empty. No vases, and all of the cups were too wide at the top. The flower just kind of flopped around, and it looked ridiculous. It hadn’t occurred to me that a single man in his early thirties might not have flower vases sitting around. Ugh, dumbass.
A notification from my phone caught my attention, and I set down the glass and flower on the counter to pull it out. A text from Bryan said Maxim was on his way home, which meant I had about fifteen minutes to finish getting ready. I typed out a quick thanks then pocketed my phone when I noticed a couple of beers next to the fridge. I eyed the narrow necks of the bottles, and had the cap off of one in seconds.
A few chugs of warm beer, thirty seconds of rinsing the bottle and a quick snip to the flower stem, and the lily had a fuckin’ vase. Was it classy? Fuck no, though it was kind of cool. I took the bottle out to the table and set it down… on the otherwise empty table. I was missing something fundamental for the romantic dinner—
Candles. How had I forgotten to get candles? A quick glance to the rest of the room revealed that there weren’t any candles sitting around—shocker. I checked the time, and still had eleven minutes, so I tore apart the two hall closets. After enough frantic snooping to make me break out in a sweat, I found a goddamn candle and brought it over to the setup on the table. It wasn’t a five-star restaurant, but it was the best I could do under the circumstances.
I checked the time again and winced: less than five minutes. I stripped off my clothes, and showered in record time, redressing in sweats and a tee, because that’s what was clean and on top of the pile. So romantic. I was lighting the candle when Maxim walked in with tired, heavy-lidded eyes that warmed when he saw me.
“Surprise,” I said nervously.
“What’s all this?” he asked with a devastatingly handsome lopsided grin.
&nb
sp; I strode over to him while he dropped his gym bag to the floor, then I threw my arms around his neck. “It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow, and I wanted to do something nice for you. I cooked a lot of food, so you’d better fucking be hungry.”
He huffed a laugh and squeezed me tight “You’re amazing.”
My cheeks flushed, and I buried my face in the crook of his neck. “Yeah, wait until you taste supper before you go singing my praises. I’m still a shitty cook.”
Supper wasn’t anything fancy; I made chicken breasts, rice, and veggies. It was a meal we’d had dozens of times, yet Maxim thanked me as if I’d grilled the perfect Wagyu steak. He also loved the purple lily, and even thought the beer bottle was cute and “so me.” As soon as I’d told him to sit down, he’d noticed that I’d cleaned everything. I had to jet off to the kitchen to keep from turning bright red and combusting.
I’d calmed down while we ate and chatted, but now that I was looking down at the cake I’d helped bake, I lost all my fucking chill. Why had I chosen a damn cake at all? Protein bars or something would have been better. It’s fucking nice, though. Under Bryan’s direction I’d decorated the sugar-free, spiced carrot cake with drizzled cream cheese glaze, instead of all-over frosting. Bryan whipped up some pecan crumble thing that went on the cake as well. It certainly wasn’t anywhere up to the standard of Bryan’s masterpieces, but it tasted good, and it was something I did.
I sucked in a deep breath, then did as Bryan had instructed and brought out the whole cake along with a knife and two forks. He’d said something about slicing it in front of Maxim so he could see the whole thing first. Made sense.
My palms were sweaty, but I managed to not drop the cake, which I took as a small victory. I set it down on the table in front of Max, then dropped to my knees next to him.
Somebody to Love (Crazy Little Thing Book 3) Page 12