Part 9 (1/2)
”What did you and my dad talk about?”
He was rubbing my forearm. ”Mostly football. He wanted to know who I had in the Super Bowl.”
”Shut up.”
Max smiled. ”No. Really, it was a good talk. He told me he wasn't happy with you being here, but he knew you were going to do what you wanted.”
”I wish he'd admit that to my face.”
”Yeah,” Max said, ”well, take what you can get. He asked me where I was from, things like that. I think he liked the fact that I'm a Midwesterner.”
I rolled my eyes. ”He can be kind of territorial like that.”
”Did you tell them about leaving the agency?”
I shook my head.
”Didn't think so,” he said. ”Because your dad looked kind of surprised when I told him you were going to be my a.s.sistant and editor.”
My eyebrows shot up my head. ”Editor?”
”Well, yeah. First reader, gatekeeper. Honest with me when I write something s.h.i.+tty.”
I just smiled. This was going to be so good.
”He also asked what my intentions were with you.”
I laughed and covered my mouth.
”Not like that that,” he said. ”But don't you think for a second that it ever leaves my mind.”
”Even when I'm looking like this? Like s.h.i.+t?”
He shook his head. ”You're always gorgeous.”
”So do I get to go home with you?”
”That's another thing he wanted to know. If I'd look after you. I told him yes, and not just until you're healed.”
My emotions were over the top. There was no controlling them. I needed to tell him how I felt. I needed to see the look on his face when I told him. And I needed to do it before he went through with the promises he'd made to my father.
”I love you.”
Those three words. Three powerful words. The three words I needed to say to him. But they hadn't come out of my mouth. They came out of his. Suddenly. Without warning. Right at the time I was going to say that to him. Once again, it was like he could read my mind.
”Come closer and kiss me,” I said.
Max leaned over and placed his lips gently on mine.
Through our kiss I said a somewhat m.u.f.fled, ”I love you. I love you. I've loved you for a while now.”
We heard the door handle click and Max pulled away.
FIFTEEN
Two weeks later, on a Sat.u.r.day afternoon, I woke from a nap to the sound of my phone ringing. It was my parents checking in. They had called every day for the last two weeks.
Conversations with my parents had changed for the better. No arguing. No bickering. No ha.s.sling me over my life choices. They even talked to Max a couple of times. Short conversations, and from what I could hear on his end, they were mostly trying to get him to confirm the progress I was making health-wise.
I wasn't one-hundred percent healed, but I was feeling much better. The pain-killers played a big part in that, too.
When I talked to Grace, she asked about Krystal.
”She's been in rehab for two weeks. I haven't gone to visit her and she's not allowed to have her own phone, but she called a couple of days ago and sounded really good.”
”I heard her parents are there.”
”Yeah, she said that. They were trying to get her transferred but she's not covered by insurance, so she's staying here.”
Grade said, ”Max paid for it all?”
”Yeah.”
”You better not let him get away.”
Max had laid down with me, but he was no longer in the bed. I thought maybe he'd gone for a run.
I made my way from his bedroom-our bedroom, now that I was living with him permanently-down the stairs and into the large, open den. The view outside was gorgeous. A bright, clear day in Los Angeles. A rare event, to say the least. bedroom, now that I was living with him permanently-down the stairs and into the large, open den. The view outside was gorgeous. A bright, clear day in Los Angeles. A rare event, to say the least.
Max was sitting in a large leather chair with his feet up on an ottoman. He had a sheaf of papers in his hand, and a blue editing pen in the other. His laptop was on the coffee table. I stood there at the foot of the stairs for a few minutes, watching the man I love engrossed in the work he loved so much.
He did a double-take when he noticed me standing there.
”How long have you been there?” he said.
”Just a couple of minutes.”
”Well, come here.”
I walked over to him. He put the script aside and held out his arms, lowering me onto his lap.
Both of us were still in our nap-wear. He wore just a pair of cotton workout shorts. I had on a t-s.h.i.+rt and panties.