Chapter Thirty-Four
November 25th, 8:30 p.m.
M ax stepped over the threshold and into Paloma’s childhood home. The warmth of the house was a stark contrast to the cool evening air outside. His grip tightened on the pizza boxes as he followed her inside, acutely aware of her father’s evaluating gaze.
In the entryway that opened into a spacious living room, Mr. Wagner offered his hand to Max. “I’m Clifton Wagner and you’re Max…”
“London,” Max filled in, “I, um,” he glanced at Paloma for help.
“Remember, Dad. I told you about him. He’s the Landscape Architect I’ve been working with.”
Max had hoped he’d also be introduced as more than a work partner, but they had just returned home and hadn’t had a chance to talk. He shook off his disappointment and glanced around the home. He noted the soft, warm lighting from strategically placed lamps, casting a gentle glow on the cream-colored walls. A large, plush sofa dominated the room, adorned with various throw pillows in textures and complementary earth tones. Above it, his gaze lingered on the abstract art, recognizing the garden pattern immediately. Paloma nudged his arm softly, a silent acknowledgment that she’d known he’d appreciate that detail.
They smil ed at each other. He turned to her father and said, “You have a lovely home, Mr. Wagner.”
“Thank you,” her father replied with a nod.
A flurry of movement from the kitchen caught his eye. A woman who had Paloma’s eyes and smile emerged, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Her gaze landed on him, curiosity evident in her eyes.
“Oh, you must be Max,” she said, approaching with a warm smile. “Thank you for joining us. I’m Sophia.”
Max shifted the pizza boxes to one arm, extending his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Paloma told us you two have been working together on some projects,” Sophia continued. “You’re a landscape architect, right?”
“That’s right,” he nodded.
“I’ve heard the Sterling home was a success,” Clifton said.
“Who did you hear that from?” Paloma asked, glancing between her father and Max.
Clifton’s lips curved into a small smile. “From a few colleagues. It seems the Sterlings are very happy.”
Max looked at Paloma. Her eyes widened, sparkling with an unmistakable gleam of triumph. The corners of her mouth twitched upward, and she stood straighter, her shoulders squaring almost imperceptibly.
His chest expanded, filled with admiration for Paloma’s talent and the shared joy in their success. He caught himself leaning toward her, drawn by the triumph blazing in her eyes.
Her father gave his full attention to his daughter. “Which brings me to—”
The patter of small feet coming down the hallway captured everyone’s attention. A moment later, a blond toddler appeared in the doorway, his eyes widenin g at the sight of Paloma.“Aunt Oma!” he squealed, launching himself toward her.
Paloma’s face lit up as she caught the little boy, swinging him into her arms. “Max! What are you doing up, mister?”
Emmaline appeared in the doorway, slightly out of breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “He heard voices and insisted on saying hello.”
Her gaze swept the room, landing on Max. A flicker of recognition passed over her features, followed quickly by a carefully composed smile. It was clear she remembered him from high school and equally clear, she hadn’t expected to see him here. And why did she almost look guilty?
Paloma turned to Max, with the toddler settled comfortably on her hip. “This is my nephew, Maxwell, and you know my sister, Emmaline.”
Max smiled, offering his hand to the little boy. “Nice to meet you, buddy. I’m Max too.”
Still clinging to Paloma, the little boy turned to look at Max. His dark brown eyes, wide with curiosity, traveled over Max’s face, taking in every detail. “But, I’m Max,” he said.
“That's right. You’re both Max!” Paloma laughed, bouncing the toddler gently. “Isn’t that fun?”
“Little Maxwell's brow furrowed as he processed this new information, his small fingers playing with the collar of Paloma’s shirt. Then his face brightened. “Two Max!” he declared triumphantly, holding up two fingers.
“Smart kid,” Max said, grinning. He was still holding out his hand, and this time the toddler reached for it, tiny fingers wrapping around two of Max’s larger ones in an adorable approximation of a handshake.
Paloma’s mom clapped her hands together, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Well, why don’t we move this to the dining room? The pizza smells delicious, and the roast is now overcooked and slightly eaten.” She glanced at Emmaline, whose cheeks pinkened.
“Sorry. I was hungry and have to leave in half an hour. I’d made plans to meet up with an old friend after Max’s bedtime.”
“Oh, who?” asked Paloma.
Emmaline pulled in her bottom lip, then let it out. “Kim.”
Paloma smiled as if that were the best news ever. The corner of Felix’s mouth twitched, and he looked away, saying, “That’s great! Have fun.”
“Well, you can visit with your brother and sister before you leave,” their mom motioned to a large dining room with a formal Cherrywood table.
“I’ll meet you there,” Emmaline reached for her son, who was dozing on Paloma’s shoulder. His eyelids fluttered, fighting a losing battle against sleep. “I’ll put him down and join you in a minute.”
She disappeared down the hallway with the sleeping toddler, and the rest of the family went to the dining room. Max leaned into Paloma and asked, “What’s with Kim?”
“Old code,” she whispered, her breath warm against his ear. “It means she’s up to something our parents wouldn’t approve of.” He returned her conspiratorial smile, feeling momentarily like he was part of the secret.
He chuckled, recalling his teenage antics with his brother. “That takes me back. Drake and I had our codes too. We thought we were so slick.” His voice lowered, curiosity piqued. “Any idea who the mystery person might be? Or is that strictly need-to-know basis among siblings?”
Stepping inside the dining room, she said, “Not sure. But I’ll find out.”
Felix leaned between them. “And you’ll let me know?”
“Please, you’re the nosiest one out of all of us. You’ll get it out of her well before me.”
“No lie there,” Abigale said before kissing Felix on the cheek.
He grinne d and pulled out a chair for her. “You know me, love.”
Clifton took the seat at the head of the table. Sophia went to the kitchen and returned with a roast that, in Max’s opinion, looked great for warming in the oven well past its time.
“Max, sit here,” Paloma said, patting the chair beside her.
He sat, his hand resting on the table, inches from hers. His fingers twitched to take hers, but the space could have been miles for all that was between them.
Until her pinky grazed his knuckle. The touch was featherlight but electric, sending a current up his arm. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, catching the hint of a smile playing at her mouth.
He turned his hand ever so slightly, palm up, an invitation. Her fingertips traced the lines of his palm, the gesture hidden from view by the table’s edge. The rest of the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the whisper of her touch against his skin.
“So, Max, indoor gardens,” Clifton said, setting down his napkin. “That’s an interesting evolution from commercial landscaping. What drew you away from traditional exterior work?”
Paloma’s hand withdrew, but the warmth of her touch lingered. He straightened in his chair, shifting into professional mode. Beneath the table, he pressed his knee against hers—a silent promise that their moment wasn’t over, merely postponed.
“Your daughter,” he replied. “I had designed a few indoor gardens for businesses, but she presented me with the challenge of working in a home and with a designer. I was too intrigued to pass up the opportunity.”
“Ah yes, seeing possibilities,” her father said, a slight edge beneath his pleasant tone. “The Sterling project certainly proves your instincts were right this time.”
“Clifton,” his wife chastised quietly.
Wow, that was shitty. Max opened his mouth to defend Paloma, but she rested a hand on his thigh and shook her head once before turning to her dad. “I’ve learned from my mistakes. I hope one day you’ll notice.”
“I have noticed. How could I not? The Sterlings have been showing off and talking about their home to anyone who’ll listen. They’ve been recommending your services to all of their friends and colleagues.”
Max glanced at Paloma, noting the spark of excitement in her eyes. Her father seemed harsh, hard to please, so this level of praise from him was probably rare and significant.
“That’s . . . that’s wonderful to hear,” she said, her voice steady but with an undercurrent of delight. “We put a lot of work into that project. I was in charge of the home and guest house. Max designed their conservatory and the landscaping for their deck and the surrounding gardens. The way he integrated those spaces with my interior changes elevated and brought the entire project together.”
Her words settled over him like a warm blanket, easing the knot of anxiety he hadn’t realized was there. Her acknowledgment of their partnership meant more to him than he cared to admit, especially here with her family.
Clifton raised his eyebrows slightly, his gaze shifting between Paloma and Max. He seemed to be considering the new information, his expression thoughtful. Then he nodded and said, “I see. Well, as I was saying, the hospitality sector could be a great opportunity for you. Your ability to create cohesive spaces inside and out would be highly valued. And I have the perfect project for you.”
Her brows pulled together. “You do? For me?”
“Yes, you. Two boutique hotels in Louisiana.” Clifton continued, reaching for a slice of garlic bread. “One in New Orleans and the other in Baton Rouge. A hotel flag bought them and wants them redesigned. They want to see how these flagship projects go before doing this to more.”
The room grew impossibly hot, thick with Clifton’s offer. The formerly appetizing aroma of pizza now turned Max’s stomach. His water glass was slick with condensation under his fingers, giving him something to focus on besides the sudden roaring in his ears. Paloma’s chair creaked as she shifted away from him.
“Why now?” she asked.
“Because I think it’ll be a good fit for you. I’ve been watching you. You’re finally focusing on your career. And you’ve proven yourself with the Sterling project.”
His stomach dropped, and the warm feeling from moments ago began to cool. Not because of the project itself—he’d support her career in a heartbeat—but because he knew Paloma. When things got complicated or personal, work became her refuge. And this opportunity was coming right when they needed to figure out what they meant to each other.
Clifton took a sip of his wine. “Would you be interested?”
She looked from her father to Max. He couldn’t read her expression, but he recognized the slight tension in her shoulders—the same tension she’d get right before stepping back, keeping things professional.
“Why are you looking at Max?” her father asked. “Does he have a say in your business?”
His face burned. Yesterday, wrapped in the success of completing the Sterling house and the intimacy of working together, everything had seemed possible. But sitting here now, an outsider at her family table, he suspected he’d been seeing what he wanted to see rather than what was really there.