“Here's the thing, Max, you don't meet my terms, then I will fight you for custody of Layla.”
“Why? You've already admitted you don't want her living with you. I'll give you access, just let me have—”
“No. This isn't a negotiation. This is me, telling you, how it's gonna be. I want everything I stated earlier, but first and foremost I want the redhead gone.”
“But why? Why the fuck? What has Billie ever done to you?”
“Nothing. It's what she does to you.”
“She makes me happy,” I snap.
“And there we have it.”
I can't remain seated and hold on to my temper, so I stand and walk to the end of the room. Positioning myself behind Waters desk, I face Whitney, who looks relaxed as she sits at the negotiating table.
“Why am I not allowed to be happy, Whit? You made your choices, you left me for Gardener, you did what made you happy, why can't I do the same?” I place my palms flat on the desk and lean into them. Her head turns towards me, a vicious sneer on her face.
“I've seen the way you look at her, the way you watch her.” She gestures with her chin towards the screen on the wall. I don't look. I hate that a moment so private and personal between Billie and I has been shared with a room full of people. It breaks my heart that she's being used and exploited this way, and it kills me to know that it's all my fault.
“I love her,” I admit.
“Ha, don't be fucking ridiculous. You've only known the bitch five minutes.”
“I've known Billie for twenty-two years.”
“And we were together for almost two, but you have never—not once—looked at me that way!” She leans forward in her chair and screams at me. Spit flies from her mouth, landing on the table and her chin. As she swipes it away harshly with the back of her hand, I stare at her in silence. Despite everything else that's gone on today, I'm a little stunned at her outburst.
“You're jealous?”
“Fuck off, Max. Just shut the fuck up and listen. I get what I want, or we go to court, and we fight for custody of Layla. I will bring up your stays at Winslow House. I will make these videos available to the court, as well as ensuring the photos of Billie in the pub and the footage of her drunk ass falling out of the cab at your gate are brought to the court’s attention. You will not get custody. Once child protection—or whatever the fuck the authorities here are called—look into my history, my previous, the accident, and the tox report from the hospital, there's a strong possibility I won't be given custody either, and where will that leave your precious daughter, huh?”
I stagger backwards. Luckily, Waters chair is right behind me, and I land in it as my legs give out.
“You'd rather our daughter is placed into care than let me be happy with Billie?”
“Pretty much.” She sits back in her chair and gives a satisfied smile to the empty room. “Glad you're finally getting it, Max.”
I stare down at the glass and chrome table. White noise fills my ears, as well as the sound of my heart shattering into a million tiny pieces.
I have nothing left to fight her with.
My chest aches with the heaviness of my heart, the weight causing my shoulders to slump.
For a very short while, we had it all, but we can’t keep it.
I can’t keep Billie and risk a court case that might mean losing Layla.
I’ve never felt so helpless or hopeless in my life.
Doing the right thing is going to mean breaking Billie’s heart and all my promises.
But knowing I’m doing the right thing, doesn’t mean it’s going to hurt any less.
“Micky’s waiting downstairs, you ready to go?”
I look up to find Aaron standing in the now empty office staring down at me.
“She won.”
“She hasn’t won … it might mean you have—”
I hold my hand up to stop him. “I won’t, I can’t risk losing Layla, and if Billie knows what’s at stake, she won’t let me. She won’t care about the pictures, but she won’t put Layla at risk.”
Aaron let’s out a deep sigh. “I don’t want to be discussing this here, you never know who might be listening, let’s talk about it in the car.”
I stand, and with Aaron’s hand in the small of my back, feeling utterly defeated, I take my first step towards the girl who’s heart I have to break.
Billie
As soon as the door to the hotel opens and Max walks through it with a look of absolute devastation on his face, I know something is wrong. Instinctively, I hold Layla tighter against me, fearing we’re about to lose her, and that Whitney’s won. Max says nothing as he takes Layla from me.
He kisses the top of her head, taking a moment to breathe in her baby scent, just like he always does.
Like everything is normal.
But I know. Without him having to tell me, I know that something is very, very wrong.
Jorja Smith is singing “Don’t Watch Me Cry” on the music channel I have the television tuned to, and I feel like it’s an omen. I reach for the remote and turn it off. Hoping that will be enough, that it’ll change the wrong and make it right.
“What happened?” I finally ask.
“Tell you in a minute,” Max responds. His eyes bleed devastation but have yet to land on me.
Micky stands in the doorway, and the instant my eyes meet his, he looks away. My gut churns and tightens. My skin prickles and my blood’s so cold, it’s painful as it pumps through my veins.
I watch in terrified silence as Max packs every single trace of Layla into her change bag. He clicks the handle of her car seat in place and hands her and the bag to Mick.
“I’ll be down in a minute,” Max tells him. ‘I’ll’, no ‘we’ll, just him.
Micky leaves without a word or a backward glance.
“Max?”
“Layla’s going to stay with my mum tonight. I’m taking her back to Jay’s with me in the morning, but we need to talk.”
“About what? Why can’t we talk with Layla here? What about me, where am I going?” I wrap my arms around him, standing up on my tiptoes, I press my mouth against the soft skin below his ear
“Talk to me. Please. You’re scaring me, Max. Tell me what’s wrong?”
He reaches for each of my wrists, and pulls my arms from around him, setting them at my sides. I’m not sure if he moves me away from him, or if he steps back, but there’s suddenly a distance between us.
His eyes finally meet mine, and my head begins to shake. “No, nonononono,” I sob, still frantically shaking my head. “What did she do? We can beat her. You promised, Max. You said I was brave, that she’s no match for me . . .”
“Bamm …” is all he says before pulling out his phone and making a call.
“Mick, take Layla to my mum’s, I’ll make my own way there.”
He throws his phone down on the bed behind me and goes out to the living area of the suite we’re in. I stand on the threshold, unsure of whether I want to follow him or not, and watch as he goes to the bar area and opens a bottle of red.
Retrieving two glasses from the shelf above the fridge, he moves to the sofa.
“Come sit with me, Bamm?”
He’s not looking my way, but I shake my head anyway.
“Tell me what happened first.”
I watch as he sits on the edge of the sofa and pours wine into each of the glasses. Without putting the bottle down, he picks up one of the glasses and starts drinking as he reads the label on the bottle.
“Max, don’t do this. This isn’t us, look at me. Please talk to me.”
His eyes finally meet mine, and I know.
I know. I know. I know. I don’t want to, but it’s there, written all over his face.
“Come and have a drink with me.”
“Do I need one?”
“Yeah, I think you might.”
“Is it that bad?”
“Worse.”
I move towards him and sit down
on the sofa, deliberately keeping a little distance between us. I hate it, that space. It kills me, but sitting closer, breathing him in, might actually be worse.
He passes me the glass that still has wine in it, before refilling his own, which is now empty.
“She wants you gone.”
He doesn’t have to say any more than that. I know who, I know what. I just don’t understand why he’s letting it happen.
“She threatened to go public with photos and footage first of all.”
“Of what?” My stomach churns as I wait on his answer and gulp down my own wine.
“Me. Us.”
I shrug. “I don’t care.”
“I know. I knew you wouldn’t. It’s from my bedroom on the day you left for Jay and Marnie’s.”
I close my eyes for a few seconds as I remember how I came just by rocking against him. Imagining what the images might look like.
“You should’ve asked for copies. I have great tits.”
“You have fantastic tits.”
“Then let the world see them, I don’t care.”
He empties his glass again, refills it and tops up mine with the last of what’s in the bottle.
“There’s video footage of me. Passed out on the bed with a bottle lying next to me, Layla screaming in her cot.”
My heart sinks, my eyelids feel like they’re being dragged with it and I can’t keep them open.
“Max,” I whisper his name as I turn my head to face him.
“It’s not even that, Bamm, not on its own. It’s all of it added together.”
“I don’t understand,” I admit. “What do you mean all of it added together?”
“The way they set you up by reporting you to child protection, the images of me and you on my bed, me on my bed, you in the pub, and staggering up the drive drunk, it’s all of it added together.”
I’m still not sure I understand, I’m even less sure I want to.
“If I don’t meet her demands, one of them being that I have to remove you from Layla’s life, she’s going to fight me for custody.”
I suddenly feel like I’m underwater, my head and my ears fill with pressure. Anger, fear, sadness, it all churns inside me, and it takes a moment before I can focus again.
“Turns out, I have no fucking clue who the woman I married even is. She has previous charges for drunk driving and possession, if we go to court, with her record, my past, the images of me passed out …” He trails off, so I fill the pause for him.
“The fact you employed a drunk like me as a nanny?”
“All of it, Bamm. No family court, or judge would likely let either of us have custody.”
“So what would that mean for Layla? Where would she go? Surely she wouldn’t risk them taking her into—”
“That’s exactly what she’s willing to risk, or at least threatening to.”
I finish my wine and sit back on the sofa. My hearts banging so hard, I swear it’s making the cushion at my back vibrate.
Max leans back next to me. We both stare straight ahead. I process my thoughts. It’s not hard. We have no choices. There’s only one thing we can do.
“So, seeing as I’m all about the adulting lately, the way I see it, we have no choice, Max, I need to go.”
His hand reaches across the devastating space between us and covers mine.
“I’m not sure I’m a fan of your adulting.”
“I’m not sure we have a choice.”
“Would you wait for me? Aaron seems to think that after a year or so—”
“I’ll wait, of course I’ll wait, but for now, I need to go. We need to let the dust settle. Get custody of Layla sorted, your divorce settled, all while I’m out of the picture.”
“I fucking hate this. Hate that everything’s so out of our control.”
“Welcome to my world. That’s how I feel about every major life event I’ve had. Even loving you wasn’t a conscious choice.”
I’m still staring straight into the room, but I know his head just spun towards me and I can feel his eyes burning a path to the side of my head. He yanks on my hand.
“Hey. Look at me and say that again.”
I aim my face in his direction and meet his eyes.
“Welcome to my world?”
Still holding my hand, he pulls me into him. I straddle his lap and rake my fingers through his hair as I stare down at him.
His eyes, which were almost devoid of light and life when he first arrived back at the hotel are now brimming with heat and hope.
“You love me, Bamm?”
I lean in and kiss each of his cheeks, the really soft bits not covered by whiskers. My kisses trail a path to his right ear, where I whisper. “I’ve loved you most of my life.”
Moving back so I can look down at the small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, I kiss his nose. “I have a confession,” I tell him.
“You’re horny and want my cock buried balls deep inside you?”
“I do want that, but first, I need to tell you something.”
“So tell me, then we can get to the buried balls deep part.”
“Before Andy Garcia, before Marley Layton or Doctor Kovač, there was you. You were my first crush, it’s always been you, Max Young—”
I don’t get time to say anymore. His mouth crashes into mine as he stands with me wrapped around him.
“Shit!” He mumbles as he walks into the coffee table and I hear the wine glasses go crashing.
I land on the bed, Max comes down on top of me, but he doesn’t stay there. He stands and allows his eyes to rake over me.
“I don’t know when we’ll get this again, Bamm, so I’m going to fuck you all night. I’m just not sure if I want to start by worshiping every inch of you or fucking you senseless.”
He’s taking off his shirt as he talks. Giving up on the buttons when only half are undone, he pulls it over his head. I sit up, ready to unbutton his suit trousers, but he pushes me back down.
“Hands to yourself, I’m in charge tonight.”
I bite down on my bottom lip and smile, but it’s all a lie and when his eyes meet mine again, my resolve, the façade I’ve portrayed vanishes, and a sob escapes me.
Scooping me up, Max climbs onto the bed and sits with his back against the headboard and holds me against him as I cry.
“I hate this. It’s breaking my fucking heart,” he says into my hair.
“My hearts more than broken. It feels like it’s been ripped out of my chest and shredded.”
My stomach hurts as I heave out sobs. A sensation like pins and needles travels through my entire body, my scalp prickles, and I feel cold as the harsh reality of our situation hits me.
I don’t want to be without him, not for any length of time, but right now, we don’t have many choices. Layla has to be our priority.
I squeeze my eyes closed, and attempt to pull myself together. I’ve survived worse than this, and I refuse to fall apart now. I will not give Whitney that power.
“You go on tour next year. We could meet up, have clandestine meetings in random hotel rooms. I could wear my khaki beanie and sunglasses, no one would know it’s me.”
“Do you promise to be waiting for me naked … wearing nothing but the beanie?”
“That can be arranged.”
“Then I’m all about the clandestine shit.”
“You’re going to Australia next year. I have family there. I can visit at the same time, we could randomly meet up.”
“Your brother’s in the band, Bamm, we have an excuse for your presence right there.”
“See, we can make this work Max. I’ve survived a suicide bomber and a crazy, drunk American, I refuse to let that bitch beat me.”
He moves me away from him, and brushes my messy hair from my face, as his eyes dance all over it.
“Do you know how much I fucking love you?” He asks, his voice low and gravely. Despite my tears, a shudder moves through me.
“No, but once you
tell me, I want you to show me.”
And he does. Slowly, reverently, he both worships every inch of me before fucking me senseless. He tells me with his words and he shows me with his body. We both have a cry, but our resolve is strong, we’re determined to find a way to make this work.
I consider myself a pretty resilient person, but when I wake in the early hours amongst a tangle of sheets and Max, I know I’m not strong enough for an emotional goodbye. So, I carry out what is possibly the first cowardly act of my life: I slide out of bed, pull on my clothes, and I leave.
Hailing a cab outside the hotel, I ask the driver to take me to my flat. With Whitney evicted, and Max going to collect Layla from his mum’s before returning to Jay’s, I’ll have time to take a shower, gather my thoughts, some clothes, my passport and I.D, and try and work out what the fuck I’m going to do with my life for the next little while.
Max
Before I even open my eyes, I know that she’s gone. The bed and my body smell of both sex and Billie, but I know that she’s not there.
When I swing my legs to the floor and sit up, I find a note:
I Love You!
I’m sorry I wasn’t brave enough for goodbye,
but I’ll be in touch soon.
I Love You. I Love You. I Love You.
Whitney thinks she’s won. I’ve agreed to every single one of her demands, including ending things with Billie. I have no choice. I can placate her with money and materialistic things, but I won’t win a custody battle, but this battle isn’t over, not by a long fucking shot.
Despite only sharing one bottle of wine last night, my head’s banging like we drank ten and I’m in no mood to fuck about in a taxi, so I call Micky and ask him to meet me outside the hotel in thirty.
After a quick shower, I pull on yesterday’s clothes, and make my way down to the hotel lobby.
I step outside … and walk straight into a press frenzy.
“Max.”
“This way Max.”
“Are you divorcing Whitney, Max?”
“What’s the deal with the redhead?”
“Is it true she’s Callum Wild’s sister?”
“Did you and Wild fight?”
All the Forbidden Things Page 35