Chapter 52
CHAPTER 52
Max
“Morning. I’m soooo hungry!” Ash said, flopping down at the table on the veranda. The lodge had brought our breakfast to the villa today, as I’d asked them to. I didn’t think she would look so perky this morning. In fact, I was sure she would probably be tired and not want to walk to the dining area. But she looked like she was more than ready to walk. She grabbed two yogurts, tipped them over a big bowl of fruit, then drenched the whole thing with honey and granola and began demolishing the food with a big spoon.
“Sex will do that to you,” I teased, sipping my coffee.
“Mmmm, hmmm,” she mumbled, shoveling the food into her mouth enthusiastically. She put the bowl down and reached for the baked goods, grabbing two pains au chocolat. I watched her. There was something about the eating that seemed to be less to do with starvation, and more to do with avoidance.
“You okay this morning?” I asked, growing more concerned as she viciously beheaded the pastries and threw some granola into her mouth next.
“Can I get you a bowl?” I asked, looking at the granola she was clutching in her fingers. She quickly shook her head and then made a beeline for the orange juice.
“I get the feeling something’s wrong?” I asked. She stopped eating and drinking and looked down at the table. I didn’t want to tell her she had a smudge of chocolate on her cheek either, because then she might have wiped it away, and I didn’t want that.
I was so in love with her.
And I didn’t want this to end. I wanted her like this every morning for the rest of my life, shoveling strange combinations of food into her mouth with smudges of chocolate on her face. I put my coffee down, my hand shaking slightly. We were leaving soon, and if I was going to tell her how I felt, it had to be now.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” I said as she poured herself a cup of coffee.
“There’s something I need to tell you too,” she said, not looking at me.
“Ladies first.”
“Okay!” She inhaled deeply, as if readying herself to dive into something. “So, last night was really, really good.” She looked up at me for confirmation, as if she needed it.
“Last night was fucking amazing,” I said.
“Exactly. And I think you were right about the unfinished business we had, and getting it out of our systems so we can get over it.”
I sighed. This was not where I was hoping the conversation was going to go.
“So, obviously, we’re not going to do that again.” The words came out so quickly I almost didn’t catch them.
“Was that a question? Or a statement?”
“Uh . . . both. No. It’s a statement. Because it’s out of our systems now.”
“Is it?” I put my coffee down and leaned across the table, scrutinizing her face, because currently there was something very strange happening on it. Like drama masks, or a clown that changes expression and emotion quickly, hers seemed to be jumping from one emotion to the other.
“One night. That’s what we agreed.”
“It kind of wasn’t one night, though, if you think about it. It’s been several.”
“But the sex, that was one night! And that’s what we said. What we agreed.”
“Ash, what’s really going on here?”
“Nothing is going on.” Her tone was defensive. “I’m just clarifying and reiterating that what happened, happened, past tense, and now it’s not happening, present tense.”
“God, when did you become the grammar police? And why does it all have to be past tense? What if we both want it again, present tense? Because I know we both do.”
“Jesus, you can’t just say things like that. This was a one-time thing, to get it out of our systems. Nothing else. It’s out now and now we can just be”—she waved her hand in the air, trying to grab on to the word that she was looking for in her head—“colleagues. Business associates.”
“Friends?” I asked.
She gave me a deadpan look. “Max, after what happened between us last night, do you really think we can be friends?”
“Well, if it was such a meaningless thing, something just to ‘get out of our systems,’ and to ‘get over,’ then yes, why not?” I locked eyes with her, searching her for the answer I knew she was struggling to give me. “Unless it wasn’t meaningless. Unless it wasn’t just to ‘get over things.’ To break some imaginary curse, see how many times you could come, or scream, or whatever. And maybe that’s the thing that is clearly terrifying you this morning.”
“I’m not terrified.” She looked panicked.
“So it was, then?” I pushed. “Just totally meaningless? Meaningless sex. That moment, when we were kissing, when we were looking into each other’s eyes, that was meaningless?”
She stood up quickly. “Well, that kind of doesn’t really matter now, anyway. I’m going on a date with Sibu, so . . .”
“Who’s Sibu?” I asked, prickles up my spine.
“The doctor. I saw him at the airport.”
“You already organized a date with him? Was this before or after last night?”
“What does that matter?” she asked, wringing her hands together.
I stood up too. “It matters. Believe me. It fucking matters.”
She folded her arms and looked at me defiantly, clearly well aware of the impact her words were about to have on me. God, I knew her so well. I saw everything. And I saw through her too. Still, I braced myself for what I knew would still hurt like hell, even though there was a part of me that didn’t believe her. Something had happened last night between us. And maybe she was just not ready to admit that. Maybe that’s why she looked like a scared baby bird today that just wanted to fly away.
“After. This morning,” she said.
It hurt more than I thought it would, even though I’d known it was coming. And I didn’t really have anything to say back to her. It felt like something in my throat was broken. I walked all the way up to her. Her body stiffened in response to my presence. Then I took her face between my hands and lowered my lips to hers.
“Max, we shouldn’t . . .”
“For the record, I think you’re wrong. Nothing about last night was meaningless and you know it.” I kissed her. No lust, no hunger, no desperation . . . just love. Pure, unadulterated, love. Thirteen years’ worth. And she kissed me back. She leaned into me, laced her fingers through my hair. I cupped her face and kept pouring myself and my feelings into her until she was full to the brim and was left in no question of my intentions.
I pulled away and planted a small kiss on her forehead. She looked so unsure of herself. But she was going to need to work all that out herself. I didn’t want to feel like I was forcing her into something she was unsure about, no matter how sure I was.
“We should start packing. There’s someone coming to fetch our bags in about thirty minutes,” I said.
She touched her lips, looked at me, and nodded. And then, despite how hard it felt, I walked away from her. A part of me thought she might come after me, say fuck it, and we’d kiss again. Another part of me wasn’t sure if she ever would. But I really, really hoped she would.