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“Not at all. I introduced myself to the owner, your boss as a heads up that I was hoping to send business his way, said that I was a friend of yours and you mentioned that your company does corporate events. I swear, that’s all. I told him that I would like to partner with him by letting my clients in the area, know about what you guys offer. And that’s all I did. I only said your name with the introduction. I didn’t say anything else.” He holds his hands up.
“But you talked to my boss.” I push away from him and stand up. I begin to pace on the sand in front of him. He stands up and halts my movements by placing his hands on my arms. He bends slightly to look me in the eyes.
“I did. I felt that it was professionally important to give him a heads up. I should have called him before I mentioned your company, but luckily, he was thrilled with the references. I swear to you, I did it with all honest intentions. I didn’t think that doing so was doing something forbidden.”
“And you told Mr. Frederick that you know me?”
“I said that we’re friends, I didn’t think that it was my place to tell your boss that you got married, I don’t know the relationship there.”
“When did you talk to him? Was it as soon as you came down here? When your PI reported back to you?” I need to know if expanding our company is because of him.
“The other day,” he replies immediately.
“And you’ve never talked to him before this?”
“Not at all. Why?” He looks confused.
“We went to Seattle a few weeks ago for a conference. While we were there, we looked at office property. I didn’t know how the two would connect.” I shake my head, not fully understanding what my train of thought was.
“Wait, you were in Seattle?” His hands drop, and he stands up straight as I nod. “And you were aware that we—about me?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t think to maybe find me? I know that you’ve looked me up, you knew the address of my building.”
“I did. But what was I supposed to say, ‘hey, I’m your wife and it’s nice to meet you?’”
He smiles but doesn’t say anything.
“What?” I ask him.
“You just said that you’re my wife,” he shoves his hands in his pockets.
“Well, yeah. Remember, we have the marriage certificate.” I roll my eyes.
“All night, you’ve been adamant on avoiding the fact that we’re married, and you just now said it.”
“Ugh, Max. Can we just go? The beach sucks right now.” I say crossing my arms over my chest. I feel frustrated and I’m sure I’m over reacting, but I just need a moment and getting away from the beautiful beach, where we shared a pretty great hug, I just don’t want to tarnish this memory right now.
“No. We’re not done. Why didn’t you come and find me?”
“I was scared. I thought that because we had gone as long as we had between Vegas and when you showed up, that you couldn’t care less. That you wouldn’t be interested, and that well, the fairytale of being married to someone like you would have been over just as quickly as it started.” I look down as I bury my toes in the sand. “You were the hot guy in a tux, I wouldn’t have ever spoken to you if my friends didn’t dare me. You are out of my league. I guess, you would have thought that I was some crazy chick.”
He steps in front of me and pulls my hand into his.
“Never. I mean the jury is still out on the craziness, I think we need to continue to get to know one another. But never, would I have turned you away. It doesn’t matter whether or not your status in life is the same as mine to be with me. I want to determine that factor. I want us to determine that together. You’re beautiful. Any man would be a fool to turn you away. So, yes, Peyton, if you haven’t gotten it yet, I’m interested. And I would have loved it if you came to my door and told me that you were my wife.”
He takes my breath away as he bends, and his mouth covers mine with one hand cradling my jaw and the other wrapping around my waist pulling me against him. My arms dangle at my side before my body fully reacts. I move my arms around his neck and melt into him.
Into his kiss.
MAXWELL
“Bornnnnnn to be wiiiiiiiiilllllllld!” Peyton sings off-key as I cruise up the freeway.
She head-bangs and plays the air guitar as she moves her hips in her seat. After the beach the other night, and once I calmed down and gained some perspective, we relaxed into a comfortability with one another.
She’s not shy of the fact that she can be a goofball, she knows that she sings horribly, but does it anyways, and even though her friend Quinn warned me about Peyton’s lack of remembrance of charging her phone—I did receive a text from her roommate saying her phone was dead and to have Peyton to call her. I am fascinated by her and liking every little bit of what I’m learning about her.
