Chapter 31
Chapter
Thirty-One
AMELIA
It’s Saturday morning, and the air is warm and homely with the scent of fresh coffee and toasted oats. I’m perched on a stool at the breakfast nook, my bare feet swinging, a bowl of cereal—crisp flakes and sliced strawberries—crunching under my spoon.
Max sits across from me, his dark hair tousled, a plain white T-shirt clinging to his chest, and his blue eyes catching mine over the rim of his coffee mug. Jason’s beside him, milk smudging his chin, as he chats away.
The scene is the perfect picture of the family I'd always wanted.
After my mom passed away, I’d always been left alone with the staff.
My dad was always away on business, and even when he was home, he was distant.
There was a constant hole in my chest, void of affection, until Max came along and I knew what it felt like to be adored.
The same thing is happening again, and it is the most beautiful feeling in the world.
Max is the most beautiful thing to happen to me.
“Do you want to come to the farmers’ market with me?” I ask Jason. My voice is light as I scoop another bite, the strawberry’s sweetness bursting on my tongue.
Jason nods, his gray eyes sparkling with excitement. “Yeah! Can we get peaches?” he asks, his voice high and eager.
I grin and nod in agreement. "Of course."
“You like peaches, Jason?” Max asks.
"Yeah," the little boy responds.
Max’s gaze flicks to me, and in it is the sad realization that he hardly knows his own son.
After we're done eating, Max stands and insists on clearing the bowls. Jason and I agree to his command that we are to do nothing. I sit and watch him to my heart's content. His arm brushes mine as he leans over, and it’s a very deliberate touch that sends a spark through me. I bite my lip, heat pooling low, and catch his eye, the smolder in there stealing my breath. We’re playing house, but it’s more—we’re playing a dangerous game, a raw, and reckless game, and I'm enjoying every bit of it.
Half an hour later we pile into the SUV.
We both turn to watch Jason buckle himself into his seat, then off we go.
The farmers’ market is a short drive from the house, but I enjoy it regardless.
The clear blue sky, sunlight glinting off the homes and towers.
Max drives with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the console, inches from mine.
I desperately fight the urge to touch him, to lace my fingers with his, but I have to keep Jason in mind. Jason chatters on about his favorite game, and I nod, half-listening. I keep stealing glances at Max. I can see how invested he has become in learning more about his little boy.
I, on the other hand, can't look away from the way his T-shirt stretches across his shoulders. All the memories of us making love or outrightly fucking, assault me until I’m forced to shut my eyes and keep myself in check.
“Here we are,” Max announces.
I open my eyes. The market is buzzing with life—stalls piled high with vibrant fruit and vegetables, tomatoes, golden peaches, bundles of basil that scent the air with green, earthy notes.
I grab the woven basket from the boot, its handle smooth and intricate, as Jason darts ahead, pointing at a stall of homemade doughnuts.
Max walks beside me, close, his arm brushing mine, each touch a subtle tease.
“Look at him,” he murmurs, almost in awe of his son. “I’ve never seen him so happy. He’s only been like this since you arrived.”
My heart twists with love for Jason. “He’s easy to love,” I say, meeting his eyes.
There’s heat in our glances, and they make my skin flush.
We move through the stalls, eating doughnuts and picking out zucchini flowers, a bag of peaches, a homemade apple pie, fresh crusty bread, small pots of herbs, and two jars of raw honey.
Max’s hand grazes my lower back, guiding me through the crowd, and I lean into it, greedy for his touch, even though I know we could be seen by someone Sara knows.
The thought of her is a constant shadow I can’t shake so I don’t even bother.
Before the sun becomes scorching hot, we head back home.
Our next stop is the herb garden behind the house, framed by blooming jasmine and rose bushes.
Max kneels in the dirt, his jeans streaked with soil, as he helps Jason plant the herbs we bought—rosemary and thyme.
I watch Max, his hands steady, gentle, as he turns the earth, and my chest aches.
This... all of this is what I always wanted. Him, us, a life woven together.
I enjoy every minute of watching father and son dig in the soil.
“Look, Dad! It’s an earthworm,” Jason cries, holding up a wriggling brown worm.
“Careful not to hurt it,” Max warns.
“I won’t. I like them.” Gently, he put the worm back in the soil, away from the turned earth and out of harm’s way.
“You’re good at this,” I say, my voice teasing. “I didn’t know you had a green thumb.”
Max grins, boyish, wiping sweat from his brow, which leaves a smudge of earth. “I learned from my Mom,” he tells me, his voice warm. “She loved gardening. She said she loved the smell of the earth, but I am sure that it was because she didn’t want to spend any more money than she had on groceries.”
"Well, now you never have to worry about it again. Either of you."
"Yeah," he agrees. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, it’s just us, the sun warm on our skin, the air thick with jasmine and possibility.
“Here, smell my hands,” Jason pipes up, sticking his small, pudgy hands under Max’s nose.
“Yes, I see what my mother meant now. Very fragrant, Jason,” Max says dryly.
I laugh when Jason thrusts his hand under my nose. “Yup. Very fragrant.”
We head inside to prepare lunch.
I pull ground beef from the fridge, and Max fires up the grill on the patio.
While Jason sets the table, I shape the burgers, after adding salt, pepper, and a dash of garlic.
We work together, easy and natural, like we’ve done this forever.
Soon, the sizzle of meat patties fills the air with smoky warmth, and it is divine.
“How much longer? I’m starving.” Jason says.
“Go sit at the table. I’m nearly done.” Max flips the patties, his arm flexing, and I catch myself staring once again.
The memory of his hands on me sparks fresh desire in me.
Trying my best to distract myself, I focus instead on the salad.
I slice some juicy tomatoes still warm from the market, and toss them into a leafy salad.
Once the meat is ready, we gather on the lunch table.
I’m hungry, and it all looks like a feast. Burgers stacked high with lettuce, tomato, and melted cheddar cheese.
The buns are toasted to a lovely golden color.
Jason takes a big bite, and I laugh. Max’s eyes meet mine across the table, warm, intense, and it makes my heart pound.
“This is good,” he says, a grin tugging at his lips, and I know he’s not just talking about the food.
My cheeks flush, and I look down, biting into my burger, the flavors rich, smoky. Delicious. I feel as if I have never eaten a more tasty burger.
“Yup,” Jason mutters. “Really good.”
“Better than cereal?” I tease.
He nods, mouth full, eyes wide.“ Way better.”
Max laughs, the sound deep and filling the room. I love this life —cereal for breakfast, burgers for lunch, Max’s laughter, Jason’s smile. Its more than I ever imagined. My happiness becomes more and more euphoric with each passing moment, and it makes me greedy for more.
We finish eating a little while later and clear the plates together. The kitchen is soon quiet, save for the hum of the fridge. Jason runs off to play, his footsteps fading, while Max pulls me close, his hand on my waist.
“This is what I dreamed of for us all those years ago,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my temple.
“Me too,” I whisper and melt into him.