Chapter 28
Annalise
I awaken with a smile on my face. There’s a peace that fills me, but in the early morning of my awakening thought, I’m baffled as to the reason. Before I open my eyes, I suspect that it’s because today is the Grand Prix.
Yet when I extend my arm overhead and stretch my body out, I come up against a hard surface against my backside. But this surface moves, wrapping its arms around my waist and pulling me into its warm nest. The smile on my mouth briefly widens as I finally recall where I am.
Then I spring up out of Max’s bed with a gasp and throw the blanket off of me. I’m dressed in a pair of his shorts and a T-shirt. Both incredibly baggy on me.
“Did I sleep here all night?” I ask, glancing around the spacious bedroom. I take in the wooden surfaces, dark greys and navy blues that decorate his space indicating that a man definitely lives here.
“That’s right, princess. It wasn’t just a dream,” Max murmurs, sitting up and pressing a kiss to the back of my shoulder. My body soaks in the heat from his kiss, stealing my next words for a beat.
“What time is it?” I scramble for my cell phone which lies on the nightstand on his side of his bed.
I ignore the one percent warning my phone flashes at me and grunt as the time reads that it’s just before seven o’clock in the morning.
“Shit. I have to go.” I crawl out of the bed, still doing my best to ignore the half-naked man sitting in the middle of it. If I focus too much on Max dressed in only boxer briefs with his hair mussed and the early beginning of a five o’clock shadow, I may never leave.
Max first thing in the morning is almost as enticing as Max once he’s just finished racing.
I shake that image from my head.
“Where are you going?” he asks, trapping me in his long arms right before I exit his bedroom. “We haven’t had breakfast yet.”
God, why does his voice sound so damn good in the morning?
I almost groan that question out loud but stop myself.
“I have to have breakfast with my family,” I tell him instead. We always have breakfast together the morning of the Monaco race.
When Max doesn’t let me go, I spin to face him. My heart immediately squeezes as I run my gaze over his handsome face. His gaze hasn’t lost the intenseness it held last night but the sadness has been replaced by something else.
I don’t allow myself to linger too long on those windows to his soul. I might not ever make it out.
“I have to go,” I say in a barely audible voice.
I almost whine when his hold loosens until his hands break apart, allowing me to step out of the embrace. There’s no time to dwell on everything going on inside of me, or how wonderful it felt to fall asleep in his arms last night right after we spent an hour talking about any and everything.
Max opened up about his memories of racing in Monaco both as a kid and watching his father. I mentally lock up that memory to review another time, like when I don’t have to rush out to meet my family before a very busy workday.
But Max’s voice stops me right as I get to the door.
“Are you trying to steal my clothes now?”
I glance down at what I’m wearing and cringe.
It’s bad enough I never made it back to my apartment last night where Chloe was waiting for me.
Now, showing up dressed in what are obviously not my clothes will open me up to all sorts of questions from my little sister. Questions I’m not ready to answer.
In a hurry, I step around Max to seek out the blouse and long skirt I’d worn last night to find them neatly folded in the navy chair lounge in the corner of the bedroom.
Without looking at Max, I change clothes, grab my purse and tablet, and head to the door in a blur, but the second my hand touches the doorknob I pause.
My head is telling me to turn the knob and get back to my apartment to slip in before anyone notices. But my heart holds me hostage.
I feel Max standing behind me. He hasn’t said a word as he’s watched me change. When I turn to him, my thoughts are confirmed. He eyes me with a raised eyebrow.
Within the blink of an eye, I’m standing before him. I press a hand to his bare chest, and both of our breaths hitch. I lift to my tiptoes and kiss the corner of his mouth.
“Good luck today,” I tell him just above a whisper.
An almost imperceptible smile flutters across his lips.
He covers my hand with his own, holding me to him, his gaze searing me from the inside out.
Without warning he moves his hand, wrapping it around my waist and pulling me flush against his body. He lowers his lips so close to my ear that they touch my earlobe as he tells me, “When I win today, just know that it’s for you.”
He releases me.
My mind fails to wrap the appropriate words around everything I’m feeling so I pull my gaze away from his lips and turn for the door, his gaze watching me as I leave.
* * *
“Welcome home.”
I pull up short just outside of my bedroom door at the sound of my mother’s voice.
My heartbeat picks up and I’m suddenly feeling like sixteen-year-old Annalise who got caught sneaking back to her bedroom in the middle of the night after hours of intrusive thoughts followed by compulsive behaviors led me to staying up at all hours of the night.
My mother had thought I’d been sneaking out of the house to meet a boy or something normal sixteen-year-olds do. If only it were that simple.
Now that that is the case, it’s hard for me to remember that I’m standing in the middle of my own apartment and I’m no longer a teenager.
“Hey, Mom,” I turn and greet with a huge smile. “I thought you were staying at your place last night.” My eyes wander over her shoulder toward the hallway hoping I don’t see my father emerge from the second bedroom. That’s all I need right now.
My mom, dressed in a pair of jeans, a V-neck white top and navy blue blazer folds her arms across her chest and raises an eyebrow. I don’t even think to ask why she’s up and dressed so early.
“Since we had Lucky last night and I had a conference call with a client based in Asia this morning, I came over here to take the call in your spare bedroom for some quiet,” she explains.
“Chloe …” I trail off when she moves closer.
“Stayed with us last night.” She stops. “Or rather she came over pretty late to hang out with us when her big sister didn’t return home to watch the movie like they had planned.”
Her statement is very much an accusation and a question all at once, but it’s said in such a breezy manner that it’s almost difficult to pick up on at first.
Guilt wells up in the pit of my stomach. I had promised Chloe a night together. We get so few given that we live across the ocean from one another.
“Close your mouth, baby,” my mom says.
I snap my jaw closed since no words were coming out anyway. I’m not ashamed of spending the night with Max, but I also can’t come right out and tell my mother that I’ve just wished my brother’s biggest competition good luck before one of the most important races of the season.
And I meant it.
“Do you want me to ask questions right now?” my mom asks.
It takes me entirely too long to grasp my mother’s question. When I do, my shoulders slump. My heart fills with love and understanding for my mom. She’s allowing me the gift of talking to her if I need to or keeping this to myself for the time being.
“I don’t know,” I admit. A mix of guilt, love, and the butterflies that still haven’t settled in my belly from waking up in Max’s bed make cohesive thoughts impossible. What I do know is that I don’t have a lot of time to shower and get ready for breakfast before getting my workday started.
“This conversation would take entirely too long and …” I trail off because I don’t want to tell my mother that I’m definitely not ready to discuss this during breakfast.
My mother approaches me, her dark brown eyes searching mine.
There was a time I would look away from her gaze.
I feared she would see beneath the facade I tried to show the world.
That she would see how much of a mess I was or the liar my messed-up brain tried to convince me lurked beneath the surface.
But the years along with therapy, medication, and long conversations about the inner workings of my mind with both of my parents eased those fears.
“You weren’t … this doesn’t have to do with …”
I shake my head. “No, this is not an OCD thing. I swear.”
Her shoulders relax. “Then it’s a boy.”
My eyes widen. “No. It—” I smother the lie before it fully emerges at the look my mom levels on me.
“Oh there you are!” The door opening followed by Chloe’s loud declaration breaks the silence.
Before I can answer, she sweeps me up into a bear hug like I’ve been lost at sea for days.
“You left me all alone last night and I finally had to go over Mom and Dad’s since I didn’t want to be by myself.”
That pit of guilt in my belly opens up even though Chloe doesn’t say this with any sort of accusation.
“Where were you?” She holds me out by my shoulders, examining me like I’m the younger sister.
I shake out of her hold because this is not how it’s supposed to be.
“Working,” I tell her. “Sorry about last night. I’ll make it up to you. But right now I have to shower and get ready for breakfast. You guys haven’t eaten yet, right?”
I look over Chloe, ignoring the raised eyebrow she’s giving me, noting the ripped jeans and oversized band T-shirt she’s wearing—the same outfit from the day before.
“No, I need to shower, too,” Chloe says, still giving me a suspicious look. “Mom?”
“I’m heading back over to meet up with your father and Tristan.” She glances at her watch. “Trav and Alyssia will be over in a half an hour. You girls don’t take too long.”
“We won’t,” Chloe answers for the both of us.
My mom gives me a lingering look before leaving.
“You,” Chloe points at me, “have some ’splaining to do. Work, my ass.”
“What did you just say?”