by Layla Hagen
“Emilia… I didn’t mean—”
“To say you didn’t want to be here and dealing with this shit? My shit?”
“Yes. No, I mean—”
“I heard you,” I assure him. Anger and pain swirl inside of me, the combination too much for me to bear at this moment. I’m emotionally and physically exhausted. “You should go, deal with your meeting.”
“Forget the meeting. I’m not going anywhere leaving things like this.” He runs an agitated hand through his hair, walking toward me. “I’m sorry. Look, I put my foot in my mouth, but you know I didn’t mean it. I just wanted to shut up that moron and…. Jesus, Emilia. You know I want to be here for you, no matter what. Tell me you know that.”
He reaches his hand out to me, but I pull away. “It will wear you down eventually,” I say softly.
“What?”
“All my problems.” I fiddle with the hem of my shirt, unable to look him in the eye. “Your life is beautiful and easy, and mine is not. You’ll resent me one day. I don’t want that.”
Max sets his jaw, training his eyes on me. “Because of what happened today? You can’t be serious. I’m sorry for what I said, but I want to be next to you.”
“For now.” My voice is weak, undependable, and I hate it. “But if it happens again and again, it will eventually wear you down, and you’ll want someone with no cares.”
He looks at me stunned. “I’m not your father, or that asshole ex-fiancé of yours. You’re projecting your fears on me, and it’s not fair.”
“Maybe I am,” I admit, “but the possibility of them becoming true is high, so it’s just better if—”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Don’t raise your voice. You’ll wake up Grams,” I say angrily. “And don’t call me stupid.”
“I’m not,” he says, now equally angry. “You can’t expect me to stand here in front of you and take all of this with a shrug. We have a good thing—”
“Stop it, Max, please. Don’t make this hard.”
“I sure as hell don’t plan to make this easy.” He paces around the kitchen, fuming.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I ball my hands into fists, digging my nails deep into my palm. “Please go, Max. You being here already cost you millions of dollars.” Men have walked away from my life for much less.
Max stops pacing, snapping his head to me. “You heard that?”
“That Anthony guy wasn’t exactly quiet.”
“Fuck Anthony and the millions. I don’t care about that. I care about you. There will be enough deals. There is just one of you.”
“Stop, Max,” I say stubbornly. “Please go.”
“You know what? I will go. I’m sorry for putting my foot in my mouth, but you’re not being rational. Call me when you calm down, and we’ll talk again. And I swear to God, if you don’t call, I’ll drive here and knock down your front door.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Emilia
The second Max leaves the house, a deep sense of loss takes up residence in my stomach. I almost run after him, but stop myself. Cold shivers overtake my body and tears stream down my cheeks.
I need a warm shower, and then everything will be better. But the dreadful feeling of having made a huge mistake doesn’t leave me even after I finish the shower. The hot water did nothing to calm down my shivers, which have now turned into tremors. Was Max right? Was I really projecting my fears? I must have. My father left me in Grams’s care after Mom died. Paul ditched me when Grandma became sick. There was a time when I believed every man I cared about would eventually leave.
Except Max. My sweet, loving Max, who drops everything to be by my side when I need him, but hearing him say he didn’t want to deal with all this shit hurt. I know his heart is in the right place, even if his mouth isn’t, but I’m still pissed. Still… pushing him away the way I did….
When I spent that first night with him, I made him and myself the promise to put my fears aside, which I did. But seeing my father opened that age-old wound, made me bleed insecurities and fears, left me vulnerable. Turned me into an idiot.
I hurry out of the shower, searching for my phone. It has no battery, of course. My heart leaps to my throat in the time it takes the phone to jolt to life after I plug it in. With trembling fingers, I pull up Max’s number and call him. No answer. Drawing in deep breaths, I tell myself that he must be in his meeting by now, trying to salvage it.
Emilia: I need to talk to you. Please call when you have time.
Max doesn’t call though. I try not to panic on my way to the clinic. He’s probably still in the meeting after all. But by the time two hours have passed, the skin on my entire body feels as if I have needles stuck in every hair follicle. I check my phone obsessively the entire day, even calling Max three more times in between patients, but he doesn’t answer, or write back. I chew the inside of my cheek until I can taste blood in an effort to withhold tears. What if he’s changed his mind? He must have, why the radio silence otherwise?
“What’s wrong with you today, sweetness?” Mrs. Deveraux asks while we’re doing water exercises. She’s my last patient for the day, and I have zero energy left.
“I’ve had some rough few days,” I admit.
“Tell me,” she encourages.
I hesitate, fearing I might honestly burst out crying if I recount everything, but I can’t keep it all in any longer. Gripping the edge of the pool tightly with one hand, through sobs and tears, I recount the trip to New Orleans, losing and finding Grams, and pushing Max away. Mrs. Deveraux listens intently, not interrupting me once.
“Honey, listen to me. There are good men in this world, and bad ones. Unfortunately the bad ones tend to be in the majority, and they have the unfortunate tendency to spread their seed as widely as possible. Your man is one of the few good ones.”
“I know.”
“And any good man knows that every woman who has faced hardships has baggage. It’s our prerogative. I think you should go home now and rest. You’ve been through too much emotional turmoil to work or make any decisions.”
Sniffling, I shake my head, removing my hand from the edge of the pool. Damn it, I’ve grasped it so tightly it left a mark in my palm. “This is my last session. I can’t clock out before finishing it.”
“I’m your patient, and I can always say I wasn’t feeling well enough to go through with the session. No one will question me.”
I laugh out loud for the first time today, because that is completely true. Mrs. Deveraux is a force to be reckoned with.
“I don’t want to sleep,” I admit. “I want to talk to Max.”
“Then go get your man.”
Watching the bottom of the pool, I ask, “What if he doesn’t want that?”
“I don’t think so. It is a possibility, true. Men are known to change their minds, especially when it comes to women. But I don’t think your man is that type. Even if he wanted distance, he would have the decency to talk to you about it.”
“Then why isn’t he picking up?”
Mrs. Deveraux leans on her back, floating on the water. “A million reasons.”
“I hope you’re right,” I say, itching now to get out of the water and check my phone again.
“Come on, girl, let’s you and I get out of this pool.”
My phone still has no incoming messages or missed calls, and I dial up Max twice to no avail. Mrs. Deveraux’s words ring in my ears as I get dressed, and fear creeps up in my veins. What could have possibly happened? She’s right. He’s not the type to disappear off the face of the earth. At least not without a good reason. As I walk out the front door of the clinic, I’m giving serious thought to calling Alice and asking if anything happened, but then I notice Alice herself sitting on one of the benches in front of the clinic. That’s when I know something must be wrong.
“Alice? Is anything wrong?” I ask with my heart in my throat, approaching her.
She rises to her feet
as she sees me, pushing her curtain of dark hair out of her face. “Now, now, don’t panic.”
“Max?”
“He was in an accident.”
Blood rushes in my ears the moment she utters those words, panic sweeping across every cell of my being. I begin to shiver. “When? What happened? Is he all right?”
Alice nods once, and the shivers subside somewhat. “He was rushing to the office, and a car crashed into his.”
“Oh my God.”
“He injured his left knee—again, but he’ll be fine. They did some tests, but except for a lot of bruises and his knee, there’s no damage. He’ll probably need some more physical therapy.”
My eyes sting with unshed tears as I shake my head.
“Half the family is at the hospital,” Alice informs me. “But I have a feeling Max wants you there too.”
“Did he say anything?”
“He was mumbling something about not understanding women, but I didn’t manage to get anything more from him. Have a hunch it’s got to do with you.”
I stare at my hands, unable to look her in the eyes. “Are you mad at me?”
“Do you love my brother?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation.
“Then I’m not mad at you.” A grin lights up her face. “Let’s go.”
***
Max
“Mother, I’m fine,” I say for the hundredth time, not that it helps. I’m in the hospital bed, and she’s been hovering around me for the past fifteen minutes.
“You’ll be more comfortable if I move this pillow,” she explains. I stop protesting and just let her do her thing, because it seems to bring her some peace of mind.
“Thank you. Is everyone else still outside?” I was given a room to rest in between scans and tests, and when they brought me in here, most of the family was camping inside already. Alice made them all go back out into the hallway and they took turns coming in to see me.
“No. Just Christopher. I sent everyone else home. And Alice went to Emilia’s clinic to let her know what happened.”
“Okay.” I attempt to keep a neutral expression, because otherwise, I’ll practically serve myself on a platter for Mom to question me, but she sees right through me.
“Did anything happen with Emilia?”
For a split second, I actually consider placating her with a nonanswer such as Nothing, but if there is one person I can’t fool, that’s my mother. So instead, I tell her in detail what happened since we went to New Orleans. Mom listens quietly, nodding and cursing Emilia’s bastard of a father, her eyes tearing up when I mention our search for her grandmother.
“Poor Emilia. That’s a lot to go through in twenty-four hours,” she says. Then I fess up about putting my foot in my mouth. Mother’s expression instantly changes, becoming more severe.
“You need to apologize for that. It was the last thing that poor girl needed.”
“I know, Mom. And I did apologize. I just don’t think she heard me. Still, she didn’t have to push me away.”
“My dear boy,” she says gently, sitting at the edge of the bed. “Fear can make us irrational. It’s an emotion, and it can cripple anyone. When your father had that accident last year, I was a mess.”
I remember that night crystal clear. My mother, who always keeps her cool and encourages everyone else, was almost catatonic with fear as we were waiting for Dad to come out of surgery. It was the first time I saw Mom in that vulnerable state, and it scared the shit out of me. Even now, talking about it makes her teary-eyed. Right, time to cheer her up.
“You mean you weren’t a mess when you heard about my accident? I’m offended.”
“Keep upsetting me, and I’ll give you something to be offended about, young man.” Mom smacks my good leg with the back of her palm. “You know, I always hoped you and Emilia would end up together.”
“What do you mean?” I ask quickly.
“You’ve been in love with her since you were nine years old. It was puppy love, but still love.”
“Not true. We were best friends.”
Mom rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “Then why did you scare off all the boys around her?”
“Because they weren’t good enough. One had made a bet with his friends that he’d be Emilia’s first kiss. I heard him. He was lucky all I did was scare him off.”
She offers me that patented smile of hers that says, You know nothing, son of mine.
“Is that what the Johnson boy did too? You scared off that poor boy too, and Emilia was heartbroken because she couldn’t participate in the dance competition.”
“He did want to kiss her, and he was also a lousy dancer. Why would you offer to take a girl to a dance competition if you can’t dance? He would’ve embarrassed her.”
“Why didn’t you offer to take her to the dance?”
“Because I was afraid she’d say no.”
She claps her hands once, smiling triumphantly. Well, hell. Looks like I know nothing, indeed. This is a skill that only Mom possesses—making me feel smarter and dumber at the same time.
I open my mouth and close it again, but I’m saved from answering by Christopher, who just burst through the door, holding bags with take-out food.
“Found Chinese food two blocks away,” he informs me, pointing to the tray of hospital food the nurse left next to my bed a while ago. I took one spoonful of that stuff and almost gagged.
“Give it here. I’m starving.”
“I’ll leave you two boys, then,” Mom says, rising from my bed. “Max, should I call the nurse? Do you need anything?”
“Nah, I’m all right.”
She gives me a knowing look before leaving the room.
“Did you buy that for you or for me?” I ask Christopher, who’s helping himself to my take-out box.
“Just doing some quality control,” he says through a mouthful, handing me the box. “By the way, you have the look of someone who got Mom slammed.”
“Shut up. I can kick you out of the room even with a fucked-up leg.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Emilia
My stomach is in knots all the way to the hospital and on the elevator ride to Max’s floor. When we reach the door to the room he’s in, I’m surprised to only see Mrs. Bennett and Christopher standing in front of it.
“Mom kicked out everyone else earlier,” Alice informs me. “It was getting too crowded.”
Mrs. Bennett smiles warmly, and something in her expression tells me she’s up-to-date with everything that happened between Max and me.
“How is Max?” I ask the two of them.
“He’s had better days,” Mrs. Bennett says, “but he’s all right.”
“I think you’ll finally agree with me that I’m the better looking one,” Christopher says with a wink. Alice elbows him in the ribs, giving him the stink eye.
“He’s not sleeping, is he?” Suddenly I’m apprehensive to see him, the space between my shoulder blades tightening almost painfully.
“No,” Mrs. Bennett answers.
Taking a deep breath, I clasp my fingers around the handle to his door, pushing it open. My heart stills when I see him lying in bed, the side of his face purple with bruises and one leg bandaged. Oh God, he must be in so much pain. Closing the door behind me, I stand at the foot of the bed, unsure what to say, where to begin.
“Christopher’s right. He is the better looking one of the two of you today,” I blurt out.
“Bad ice breaker, Jonesie.” Max lifts up the corner of his lips on the unbruised side of his face. Right, if he can smirk, then he’s definitely not in too much pain.
“What were you expecting?” I ask, pacing the room. I’m in a dilemma. Part of me is still pissed for what he said, and the other part wants to climb in the bed next to him and kiss the living daylights out of him.
“Something along the lines of making me apologize for talking shit, and then you apologizing for pushing me away, and promising you’ll never do it aga
in. I’ll start. I’m sorry for what I said. I really didn’t mean it.”
My throat stings as I whisper, “Max, I’m sorry too, for pushing you away.”
“Say that again, and add the I’ll never do it again part.” He cocks an eyebrow. “That’s very important.”
“You’re bossy.”
“I’ve earned that right.” He points at his foot with one hand, and at the bruised side of his face with the other hand.
“You did,” I admit, chewing on my lip. “I promise not to push you away again.”
“You mean it, Emilia?” he asks, and now his expression is dead serious. I nod, yearning to touch him, to feel closer to him, to soak in his warmth and all the good things that come with Max. “Part of it was my fault. What I said—”
“I think part of me knew you didn’t mean it. I was just trying to read into things. By the way, was the deal with Brazil rescued?”
“No, but it doesn’t matter. We’ll find new partners. Come here.” He pats the side of the bed on his unhurt side. I almost fly to him, climbing on the bed with lightning speed.
“Wow. I’ve never had such an enthusiastic response when inviting a girl in bed.”
“The bruised face and bandaged leg really do it for you,” I assure him. “Alice said you might need a physical therapist again.”
“Lucky I know a sexy one who wants to make things up to me, so she has to do everything I ask. You’d better get me in shape for Logan and Nadine’s wedding.” He’s inches away from me. Unable to hold back any longer, I touch the side of his face with my fingers, nestling the side of my body closer to him.
“If you’re gonna climb me, you’d better do it properly.”
“Or what?” I challenge, but I slip under his cover. Since he must lie on his back, I climb with half my body over his uninjured half.
“I’m sure I can think of a way to make you pay,” he says devilishly.
“If I kiss you, will you hurt?” I ask, inspecting the bruise.
“Eating wasn’t a walk in the park, so I think kissing my mouth is out of the question. But there are plenty of other body parts that need your attention—all uninjured.” Putting his mouth to my ear, he whispers in a low, seductive voice, “Especially the Emilia sensor.”