Chapter 30
Thirty
Flynn
I’ve been staring at the ceiling for God knows how long, holding Max as she sleeps and thinking about her behavior during and after dinner. This job obviously means the world to her. She seemed fine earlier today, and I barely recognize the nervous wreck she turned into while Barnard was reading our submissions.
The job means a lot to me, too, of course. But now I feel conflicted. I want it, but do I want it badly enough to hurt Max in the process?
The simple answer to that is no.
Over the last few days, the woman I thought I’d lost forever has become the most important person in my life. I love Max. I want her to be happy.
And I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure that happiness. Even if it means throwing myself under the bus to guarantee it.
Careful not to jostle the mattress too much and wake her, I slip out of Max’s bed and pad on bare fee back to my own room. Finding a fresh shirt, I slip it on and slide my feet into a pair of flip flops before quietly leaving the room and heading back downstairs.
I see a valet walking through the foyer as I near the bottom, and I wave to get his attention. He stops and turns to me with a smile.
“May I help you, Mr. Nightingale?”
“Yes, thank you. Is Barnard still up and about, by chance?”
“I believe he’s still in his office, sir,” the valet replies, then stretches out an arm in invitation.
I nod in thanks, grateful that he didn’t make any negative comments about my needing to speak to his boss. Apparently, Barnard has no rules about not being disturbed at this hour. The door is open when I get there, and poking my head inside, I find Barnard sitting behind his desk with a glass of scotch in his hand. He’s rotating the glass, watching the liquid swirl inside, then must catch sight of me from the corner of his eye because he looks up at me, sets the glass down, and beckons me inside with a wave of his hand.
“What can I do for you, Flynn?” he asks as I approach, then motions for me to take a seat.
“Sorry to bother you so late, but I need to talk to you about this job,” I say, my voice unexpectedly firm without a trace of a tremor.
I’m doing the right thing. I know I am.
“What about it?” Barnard asks, his expression turning curious.
“I’m afraid I need to pull out.”
“Pull out?” he asks, his curious look deepening as he cocks his head to one side.
“Max is the right person for the job,” I say. “She deserves this.”
“Does she, now?” he asks, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.
I pause to study him for a moment then tilt my own head. “You already picked her, didn’t you?”
“How would you feel if I had?”
“Relieved. Happy for her. Damn proud, actually.”
He nods, the movement slow and thoughtful as a calculated gleam shines in his eyes. “And I suppose you want me to keep this conversation quiet and allow you to stay so she won’t know you forfeited?”
“That would be ideal, yes,” I say, and he nods again.
“Okay. I won’t say a word. I’ll have a valet fetch you both for breakfast in the morning so I can reveal my decision.”
“Thank you, sir,” I say, then rise from my chair. “I appreciate your discretion.”
“Of course. Of course,” he says, his tone distracted as he turns his attention back to his drink, picking the glass up to take a sip.
I’m obviously dismissed, so I turn to go. I can feel his gaze burning into my back, and I fight the urge to turn around for confirmation. Outside the office, I stop and take a deep breath before letting it out slowly.
I feel like a weight has been lifted, and it honestly surprises me. Even though I knew I was doing the right thing, I was sure I’d feel at least some disappointment at pulling my horse from this race. It really is the opportunity of a lifetime.
But I only feel relief and happiness for Max. This is going to be huge for her. She’ll do an amazing job on Barnard’s biography, and it will open so many doors for her in the future.
Maxine Nolan is destined for great things, and I have zero regrets in stepping out of her way.
Nodding to myself, I head back upstairs. In my room, I kick off my shoes and tug my shirt off. Stepping into Max’s room, I’m relieved to find her still asleep. On light feet, I walk back over to her bed and crawl in next to her.
Gentle, so as not to wake her, I pull her back into my arms. She sighs and snuggles into my chest like it’s the only spot she wants to be, even in sleep. Tightening my arms round her, I close my eyes and imagine the joy that will spread across her face when Barnard tells her she’s his pick tomorrow. My lips curl upward and heat blooms in my chest.
And as I start to drift to sleep, thoughts of being away from her for months while she writes this book try to intrude. I push them away and focus on her happy expression. The feel of her in my arms, right here, right now.
I know I did the right thing.
I’d sacrifice anything to make the woman I love happy.
Anything .