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Sebastian blinked. “But—”
Theo pointed at the door. “Out.”
Finnley’s eyes widened with delight. “Oh, this is excellent.”
Chairs scraped back. Milo closed the piano lid.
Julian patted Max on the shoulder as he passed. “You’re welcome,” he murmured. He seemed extremely pleased with himself.
Max shot him a glare.
Theo lingered by the door as the others filed out. Before leaving, he glanced back at Max one last time. Their eyes met, and Theo gave him a small nod. “We’ll be at the pub when you’re… finished. And if we’re not there, we’ll be at the restaurant. Take as long as you need. And Max?” Theo’s eyes sparkled. “Next time you write a love song, try warning everyone first?”
Then he closed the door behind him.
The rehearsal room was very quiet.
Max took a deep breath, then walked toward me. He stopped a few feet away. For a moment neither of us spoke.
“You didn’t tell me,” I said at last.
Max huffed. “My plan was to talk to Julian about the song. Privately.”
I managed a smirk and glanced towards the door the others had exited through. “That went well.”
“I underestimated how little Julian values subtlety.” Max dragged a hand over the back of his neck.
The truth was still hanging between us.
“You wrote that about me.”
Max didn’t answer immediately. His gaze dropped briefly to the floor, then lifted again. “Yes.”
The simplicity of the word made my chest tighten.
“Why?” I asked quietly.
Max took a breath.
“I didn’t mean to write it,” he admitted.
That caught me off guard.
“It just… happened.” He hesitated. “I woke up the other night and couldn’t sleep. And every time I tried to think about something else, I kept coming back to you.”
My heart thudded.
Max continued, his voice steady but softer now. “The way you look at the world. The way you refuse to disappear inside someone else’s expectations. The way you challenge me without ever trying to control me.” He paused. “I realised something while I was writing.”
“What?”
Max met my gaze. “I’ve spent years convincing myself that keeping people at a distance was the safest thing for everyone involved.”
I didn’t interrupt. I couldn’t. I needed to hear every word.
“Then you walked into my life,” he said quietly. “And suddenly distance stopped feeling safe.”
The words settled in the quiet room.
