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Max lets out a humorless laugh, pointing to himself. “I made what clear? Tink, I’m not the one who said it was nothing. It was anything but.”
“What are you talking about? When Damon asked me out, I didn’t want to say yes because of you. When he told me you gave him your blessing, saying we were both drunk and you couldn’t even remember it, I didn’t see a reason to say no anymore. In fact, it pissed me off so much, I said yes in spite.” I never told Damon that, but he knew.
He falls back into the cushioned yellow chair, throwing his head back, talking to the ceiling. “And here I was, heavy with guilt for having feelings for your woman. Asshole.” His words aren’t for me, so I stay quiet. He lifts his head and blows out a breath, meeting my gaze. “I never said that.” I narrow my eyes in confusion. “I could never forget the night we spent together. I didn’t know what to do. I’d never experienced that intense need for a woman, it scared the hell out of me, so I didn’t call you. When Damon said he had asked you out, and you said yes, I had lost my chance and it was my own damn fault. He wanted to make sure I was cool with it.” He runs his hands through his hair again and groans. “What was I supposed to say? If you wanted something more, you would’ve said no, so I told him to go for it.”
I should’ve said no.
At least he’d be alive.
I back into the barstool, sitting, stunned by his words. Only, they’re a couple years too late to act on. I can’t be mad at Damon for what he did. At least he took the initiative to go after what he wanted.
“It’s my fault he’s dead.” The words slip out before I can stop them. Heat courses through my body as I admit the one thing I’ll never forgive myself for. Max sits forward, his head tilts like he’s trying to make sure he understood me correctly. You did. I wring my fingers together and cast my eyes down. I need to get this out and since we’re airing everything else, I might as well finish. “Right before he left, we got into an argument.” I close my eyes momentarily as the tears burn. “The last thing he said to me before he walked out was ‘I’m not Max’.”
Max’s body stills as he stares at me. He doesn’t look like he’s breathing as my chest heaves to catch my breath. “Why would he say that?” His eyes flicker across my face searching for answers.
“God, I hated you.” I cover my eyes with my hands, embarrassed I’m saying this out loud. “You unlocked something inside me. There was always something missing when I was with a man. Until you. You made me feel like I’ve never felt before. I craved that feeling again.” I sigh, ashamed that Damon wasn’t able to achieve it, yet I agreed to marry him. A nervous laugh slips from my lips. I can’t believe I’m telling him this. “I remember the first time I asked Damon to tie me up. He was furious.”
I jump when Max’s fingers touch my chin, lifting it until our eyes meet. A slow smile tugs at one side of his lips as if he’s trying not to air his approval of my words. “It wasn’t your fault, so stop thinking it was.”
“But if I hadn’t—”
“Tink, we’re men. We compartmentalize things, especially when it comes to women and work. What happened could have happened to any of those guys. They were ambushed and none of them saw it coming.”
I tug my chin out of his grip and slide off the stool, walking past him, not wanting his sympathy. “I still feel guilty he died thinking I would rather be with you. I loved him, Max,” I plead, not sure if I’m trying to convince him or myself. No, I did. But I had already decided I wouldn’t marry him, I just didn’t know how to end it. When he left that night, his words stung, but they made me realize I couldn’t keep living a lie. Damon was wrong about one thing though, I didn’t want Max. That door was bolted shut.
Two freaking years ago.
“Where do we go from here?” he whispers from behind me, his chest barely touching my back. His words confusing me.
A hand glides down my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps. “We can’t do this, Max.” I swallow hard and tell my feet to walk away from his touch, but my body screams back by leaning into him. “We’ll drown in the river of guilt that divides us,” I whisper, turning to face him.
“Just give me tonight.” The intensity in his eyes bore into me. How can I give him tonight when my heart wants tomorrow and my mind won’t forget yesterday?
I open my mouth to decline, but the words don’t come out. For a hot second, I want to give in to the desire. It’s been over a year since I’ve been with a man and I know Max can give me what I need. But will he be able to walk away after? Will I? I shake my head, answering myself. No. Max changed me and I changed him.
He didn’t ask for forever. We can’t be casual friends with benefits.
With that final thought, the chains of guilt lock back around my heart quicker than it took to unlock them and I back out of his grip, reach for my purse off the table and rush to the door feeling horrible that I’m once again leaving him. The irony that I just asked him not to walk away. “I’m sorry, Max, I can’t. Thank you for everything you’ve done,” I whisper.
As I’m shutting the door, I hear, “Anytime, Tink,” and then the sound of glass shattering against the wall. Pain funnels through my heart knowing I’m hurting him by walking away. Again. This will be the last time.
Max doesn’t need to save me anymore.
Chapter Ten
Sydney
“You left that hot hunky man in the hotel room?” Graham bellows, his voice echoing in his office.
I glare at him, sitting smugly behind his desk, knowing how Addison felt because that would have been my exact response. He’s like the boy’s version of me. I rehash my visit, and he focuses on one thing. “Of course, you’d only comment on that.”
He shrugs, smiling. “It was the last thing you went over. It was fresh in my mind.” He taps his temple a couple times.
“If it would have been in the middle, you’d still pick it out.”
He waves a hand around, stands and struts around his desk to where I’m sitting. “Let me see that tattoo since you’re avoiding my question.”
I hold out my wrist and I can’t help but grin at the perfect design. He holds my wrist in his palm, his thumb grazes over the wings. Without letting go, he sits in the chair next to me. “You ready to tell me everything?” he asks in a hesitant tone, knowing I kept out important parts. Like how I lost my baby.
