Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Maximillian
I arrive at the bistro, the same one I go to almost every day because it’s only a short walk from the offices of my security agency. It’s funny that I’m meeting Zoe here because this is where we first met. Lily, her sister, was giving her the play-by-play about her plan to travel across the country to figure out her past . . . or something like that. I can’t help but reminisce about it.
As I approach our table, I notice Zoe’s hands trembling slightly as she grips a mug, her knuckles turning white. She avoids my gaze, staring intently at the wisps of steam rising from her cup. This is unlike her. Zoe is usually so confident, so self-assured. It reminds me of our meeting last week when she was outside the medical office, sitting in her car staring at nothing. It was like she had gotten some life-changing news—a life-or-death sentence.
It scared me so fucking much. I wish she had told me what was going on with her so I could help. That she hadn’t just shut me out from her life. She’s important to me and now . . . it’s like she pushed me into a different dimension where I can’t be near her.
At least she called me to tell me what’s happening to her. I’m ready to be who she needs me to be. We’ll find the best doctors to treat whatever condition she has. I won’t lose her. I know there’s always hope, isn’t there?
I sit down across from her, the familiarity of the bistro bringing a small sense of comfort. “Hey, Zoe,” I say softly, trying to catch her eye.
She finally looks up, her eyes filled with a mix of emotions I can’t quite decipher. “Hey, Max,” she replies, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Are you okay?” I ask, concern lacing my words. “You seem . . . preoccupied, distracted.”
She takes a deep breath, her grip on the cup loosening slightly. “I’m fine,” she says, but I can tell she’s lying. Her eyes dart away, and she bites her lip.
“Sure, you’re totally fine,” I say sarcastically. “ Which is why you called and said, ‘It’s’ really important we speak today—the sooner, the better, Maximillian.’” The last words come out a little squeaky as I try to imitate her but do a shitty job at it.
“I sound nothing like that,” she says, clearly annoyed.
I tap my ears. “To me, you did, and you can’t take that away from me.”
“What are you, ten?”
I arch an eyebrow, and a grin spreads across my face. “Thirty-five.” My eyes sparkle with amusement as I watch her brow furrow and her cheeks flush slightly. She crosses her arms, trying to look stern, but the corners of her mouth twitch upward. I lean in closer, my voice softening. “And there it is—that adorable little crinkle between your eyebrows when you get annoyed.”
Somehow, she relaxes and I feel better knowing I’ve put her at ease.
“So what would you like us to discuss, Zo?” I call for the waitress. “If you want to be part of our legal team, you’ve contacted the wrong partner. Liam is the one who makes those decisions, but you have my vote.”
She snorts. “That’s a good one, but no. I don’t need a job—not just yet.”
“But you might need it?” I ask, wondering if she’s calling all the people she knows to see if we can get her new clients. If she allowed it, I would invest in her business. Anything for her.
She shrugs. “Probably . . . I don’t know, really. I signed up two more clients this week. It’s a very slow and steady flow. I’m hoping that it’ll keep growing.”
“Okay, so you didn’t call me about work. What is it then?”
She looks nervous, fidgeting with her cup.
“Zoe, you can tell me anything. You know that, right?” I try to sound understanding but probably failing miserably.
She nods, but her eyes dart away, a flicker of uncertainty clouding their usual warmth. My stomach tightens, a cold dread seeping through my veins. Whatever she’s about to say, it’s big—the kind of big that reshapes lives, shatters foundations.
Is this why I’m here? To be the messenger, the bearer of bad news to Ethan and her family? The thought sits heavy in my chest. She sees me as detached, uninvolved. A convenient outsider.
But as I look at her—really look at her—I see the paleness beneath her skin, the slight tremor in her hands. Unbidden, memories flash through my mind: her laugh echoing across the room, the way her eyes light up when she talks about her passions. The thought of that light dimming, of her vitality fading, makes my heart clench painfully.
What if it’s serious? Cancer? Some rare disease? My mind races through worst-case scenarios, each more terrifying than the last. I can’t lose her. Not when I’ve only just . . .
I push the thought away, focusing on her needs right now.
“I’ll do and be anything you need me to be,” I say, reaching out to touch her hand. My voice is steadier than I feel. “Just tell me what’s happening.”
She scoffs, a bitter sound that doesn’t suit her. “Anything? I don’t even know what I need you to be.”
Fuck, that doesn’t sound good or reassuring. I lean forward, trying to bridge the gap between us. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together, okay?”
“Max, I . . . I don’t know how to say this.” Her voice wavers, barely above a whisper.
She bites her lower lip, worrying it between her teeth. Seconds stretch into an eternity. My palms grow damp as the seconds pass, pulse quickening.
“Just say it, Zoe.” I force a calm I don’t feel into my voice. “It’ll be perfectly fine.” I swallow hard, willing my face to remain neutral. “I’m here for you.”
I’m really starting to freak out.
She presses her lips together, and then the words tumble out in a rush. “Max . . . I’m pregnant.”
My brow furrows, my mind struggling to catch up. “Pregnant?” The word feels foreign on my tongue. “As in, you’re having a baby?”
She nods, her eyes never leaving mine.
Why me? The question echoes in my head. She’s wanted this right? It was part of her plan after quitting the firm and starting her own. I don’t understand this meeting though.
Why tell me first?
“Yeah,” she says, a forced lightness in her tone. “A little souvenir from Fiji.”
I blink a couple of times, reeling from the five words she hurls at me like a bullet to the gut. I’ve been shot before but never felt like my world was ending. Not like right in this moment .
The world tilts on its axis. My throat constricts, my mouth suddenly bone-dry. Fiji. Our trip. Liam and Audrey’s wedding. But that would mean . . .
“By the way,” she adds, her voice eerily calm, “the baby is yours.”