18. Paige
Maxon Grant: Dinner tonight?
I glance at my phone and sigh, every night since we had the cake tasting a couple days ago Maxon has stopped at the store on his way home and gotten whatever food sounded good to me like he was my own personal chef. And like some kind of traitor, my stomach growls in complaint but I push away the feeling as I snatch my phone and begin to type out my response.
Paige Knox: Won’t be there for dinner. Cleaning. Don’t wait up.
The 90th birthday party went remarkably well today. The large botanical garden had proven to be an excellent venue for the event with the large tropical trees and exotic flowers offering a unique and elegant atmosphere for the party goers. The tables were decorated with a simplistic array of lanterns filled with flowers and framed snapshots of the 90-year old’s life. Which is what was taking so long for me to get cleaned up as I carefully wrapped each and every frame in a thick layer of bubble wrap before packing them back into the box the client had dropped them off in.
My phone dings again.
Maxon Grant: You still at the greenhouse?
Paige Knox: It’s called a Botanical Garden. And yes, so don’t worry about me.
Maxon Grant: K
I roll my eyes at the short message before focusing back on the table I’m working on. I’d at least gotten around seventy people asking for a business card, which I took as a massive win for the night, even if it meant I had to stay and make sure everything was cleaned up. That was the disadvantage of opting to forgo the cleaning service. But not spending money on the cleaners meant that I was able to pocket more of the profit from tonight, which means I’ll be able to save up for a deposit on a new apartment sooner and get out of Maxon’s place.
Even if I was starting to enjoy having him around again.
I steel myself. I couldn’t let myself start thinking like that. If I did, it would be that much harder to leave, or worse, when he left. Maxon has an entire different life waiting for him back in LA, not to mention all the things I know he wants to prove to his father. It’s really no wonder he’s had so many short lived relationships, he doesn’t have time for someone to slow him down. Someone like me… I swallow the emotions that are trying to lodge themselves in my throat, ignoring the heavy weight that settles over my chest whenever I think about things going back to the way they have been for the last four years.
Emotions. I don’t need more stupid emotions when it comes to Maxon. I need more bubble wrap.
About twenty minutes later, I’m just about done with packing the frames up, my stomach rumbling like a freight train as I stow a photo of a twenty something year old woman on the bareback of a horse in the mountains. I grin at the picture, even today I could see the same spark in the 90-year old’s eyes as there was in the old photograph. She, Penny, was a wild, daring woman who hadn’t at all lost her sense of humor in her old age. I trail a finger along the edge of the picture, wondering what her life was like when she was my age, and if her love life had at all been as complicated…
“What’cha got there?”
The voice startles me as I whip around, sending the picture flying up in the air in my surprise.
Maxon reacts as elegantly as a tomcat and snatches the picture before it hits the floor and shatters.
“Maxon!” I hold a hand to my chest, my heart racing, pounding against my ribs. I punch him in the arm. “Don’t do that.”
There is a smile is on his lips though. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you’d have heard me come through the front doors.”
“Obviously not.” I hiss back, my heart just starting to settle back into a normal rhythm.
Max chuckles. “Sorry.” He says, but the humor in his voice makes it plainly obvious that he is not sorry in the slightest.
I let out a sigh, taking notice of the large brown paper sack that he’s carrying at his side. “What’s that?”
A grin lights up his face and darn it if it doesn’t make my insides melt slightly at the sight. “You said you were working late so I grabbed some food and figured I could help.”
My heart thumps into my stomach, stirring those butterflies all over again as I stare up at him, trying to keep the “aww” from escaping my lips. “Wow, that-that’s really nice of you Max.”
His grin brightens, a spark igniting within his dark eyes as he steps up beside me, placing the bag of food on the table. “You know, I love it when you call me Max.”
I pull a face at him. “What? I always call you Max.”
He shakes his head as he begins to pull out Thai food containers. “No, you used to always call me Max. Now you call me Maxon. Every now and then a Max will slip out, but they are few and far between.”
“Oh…” I watch the food. “I didn’t realize I did that.”
He shrugs next to me, and I can feel the movement against the side of my arm. I hadn’t realized how close we were. “It’s okay, pretty much everyone calls me Maxon nowadays. But, I like it when you call me Max the most.”
“No, I mean I didn’t realize I’d stopped.”
He freezes unpacking the bag, and my gaze is drawn back up to his face where he’s now staring back at me, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “There are a lot of things that we don’t do anymore…” His words cause something heavy to settle over my chest and for a moment I feel like I am drowning, unable to breathe but also unwilling to grab the only thing that could rescue me from this feeling.
I grasp onto the chair in front of me and begin to pull it out but his hand settles over the top of mine. Tingles shoot up my arm, raising goosebumps that quickly replace the heaviness on my chest with something far lighter but still just as breathless.
Pull yourself together, Paige.
With his hand still atop mine, he pushes the chair back into the table. “We’re not eating here.” He says with a mischievous spark in his deep-set eyes.
I make a face at him, pressing my lips into a thin line. “What do you mean? Where are we going to eat?”
He hands me my container of food before motioning around us. “We’re surrounded by nature Pages, we must immerse.” He starts towards a large area of trees, foliage and flowered bushes separated from the path that winds throughout the botanical garden by a stone wall.
I follow. “We’re not supposed to leave the path.” I chastise him, having to scurry in order to keep up with his long strides. I never realized how fast the man could actually walk, whenever we’ve been together, he’s always walked with me, and, apparently, let me set the pace.
He comes up to a bench sitting against the stone wall, using it as a step to get into the raised garden that we are definitely not supposed to be climbing into. He pauses, then turns to me and catches me with those brown eyes that entrap me as he holds out a hand. “Do you always follow the rules?” A smirk picks up at one corner of his mouth and my resolve falters slightly.
“Yes.” I hiss, but I take his hand anyways and step up on the bench next to him and then onto the raised garden. He follows easily, keeping my hand in his as he begins to lead us through the foliage and deeper into the garden.
“We should not be doing this.” I say as we walk, and it just causes his shoulders to shake slightly with a quiet laugh.
We come to a large tropical tree where he stops, and we settle against its trunk. I’m still shaking my head in disapproval while he’s resorted to a playful grin, watching me as we begin to eat the food he’d brought. “Thank you.” I say, lifting my food slightly to indicate I was referring to the hot Pad Thai in my container.
He shrugs, his gaze dropping back to his own food. “Don’t mention it.”
I take a few bites of food, trying hard not to slurp on the rice noodles as I hover over my container, my back against the large palm tree. “So, when do you think you’ll be heading back to LA?” I find myself asking, the question almost surprising myself more than it did him.
He lets out a low chuckle. “Trying to get rid of me already?” He winks which causes the goosebumps to rise along my skin all over again.
“No.” I say a little too quickly. “I just figured you’d be wanting to get back to your girlfriend.”
Nice Paige, that doesn’t sound like prying AT ALL.
I want to shrink down and hide in my Pad Thai to escape the embarrassment that was creeping its way up my neck.
I.
Will.
Not.
Blush.
I was chanting this in my head so much that I almost missed the fact that he’d stopped eating and was staring at me now. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Oh, what do you call them then?” The words slip from my lips before I can stop them, like my mouth has a mind of its own determined to embarrass me.
His back straightens, a stiffness growing in his shoulders as he stares back at me. “Clients.”
I nearly snort a noodle. Did he think I was oblivious? I’d seen the magazines, the girls he’s often seen with, not to mention the things Aspen has said about the women that surround Maxon whenever they’d go clubbing. “Oh please, Maxon.” I say, picking at my noodles again. “This is me you’re talking to.”
“Yeah, and I’d think of all people, you would know better.” He shoots back and I tear my attention from my food and back to him, something that almost resembles hurt filtering through his eyes.
I gulp. “Okay… then explain all the girls. And articles…?”
He shakes his head, shoulders slumping. “Anyone who knows anything about law knows that a lawyer can’t date his clients… but the media doesn’t care about that.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s the scandal of it. It’s the type of publicity you can’t buy.”
Something in my chest throbs, but not in the same heartache way I’m familiar with feeling around Maxon. “Okay…” I say, knitting my brow at him. “So, you had to pretend to date them?”
He winces. “I wouldn’t say pretend to date, we would be photographed and seen. But most of the time we would have business to discuss anyways, we just did it in public, sometimes romantic, settings instead of my office.” His focus drops back down to his food that he begins to pick at but not eat. “It’s all about a good story.”
“And the club girls?”
He shrugs. “Were always just trying to get their ten minutes of fame. I didn’t usually take much stock in them. I didn’t mind the image it gave me though, and I guess I just kind of leaned into the situation. Decided to make the playboy personality a part of my reputation instead of correcting it. I mean, I dated my fair share of women, don’t get me wrong… but none of it was ever serious or as controversial as they made it out to be.”
I frown. “But Aspen said-”
Max laughs. “I love Aspen, don’t get me wrong, he’s my best friend.” He shakes his head. “But he doesn’t know half of what he thinks he knows.”
“Why not?”
“Because, he’d ask why.” His eyes rise back up to me. “And then I’d have to explain that I’m still in love with his sister.”
I blink at Maxon, vaguely certain that I’d misheard him because there was no possible way he’d admitted he was in love with me as nonchalantly as that. Like it was as simple of a fact as needing air to breathe.
But he did. I hadn’t misheard. He’d just said he was still in love with me and there he sat, picking at his bowl of noodles like that information wasn’t Earth shattering. I spring to my feet, causing my own bowl of Pad Thai to slosh and spill all over my skirt.
Of course, because he’s in love with that girl.
“You can’t just say things like that.” I shout at him and his attention snaps back to me as he climbs to his own feet, towering over me once again.
“Why not? We said we’d always be honest with each other. This is my honesty.”
I shake my head at him, a traitorous part of my heart craving to close the distance between us and melt into his arms. To let his familiar scent wrap around me and let him love me. Let myself be fooled into thinking this impossible relationship could work all over again and be just as heartbroken, if not more, when it all falls apart just like before.
I know how this story ends.
Shoot, I wrote it last time.
“Just, stop Max.” I say, the sting of tears threatening at the back of my eyelids, but I refuse to let them fall.
“Stop what?”
“All of this. I’m done with it. The food, the endearments. Stop trying to make me fall in love with you.”
“Have you ever thought that maybe I don’t do it to make you fall in love with me, I do it because I’m in love with you?” His deep-set eyes hold all the seriousness and sincerity in them, making me almost want to believe him.
I let out a sharp laugh, cutting off all ties to my heart, it was nothing if not unreliable when it came to Maxon Grant, and now was not the time to be bogged down by feelings. “No, that’s ridiculous.” I say as I turn and start to walk away from him.
His hand snaps out and catches my wrist though, turning me and pulling me back to him. I let out a squeak at the jerky movement as I end up pressed up to him, my hand landing on his chest to catch my balance.
My body revolts against me, and against knowing better. I look up into his dark eyes, taking in a sharp breath as he stares deeply into mine. His hand comes up and cups my cheek, his thumb tracing circles against my skin and I have to focus in order to steady my breathing.
“Are you really done with me?” His voice is almost as soft as his touch and every fiber in me screams to tell him no, that I’m not sure I’ll ever truly be done with him. That a part of me still belongs to him. That it always has. But instead of falling to the whims of my heart I steel myself.
“Yes.” I breath out the lie, sounding as affected by him as I’ve always sworn I wasn’t, and I can’t help my focus dropping to his lips for a second as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.
“Then tell me to stop.” He says, his palm sliding from my cheek to palm the back of my neck instead, pulling me closer as he leans down. His lips hovering over mine for a second, giving me all the time I need to withdraw from the incoming kiss, but just like every other time, my body ignores my brain and stills, my eyes drifting closed.
When his warm lips press against mine every feeling I’ve ever had towards this man suddenly spurs back to life. The longing, the laughter, the way he knows me better than anyone else. This is the Max I know, the sweet guy, the one who would bend over backwards for someone in need, the guy who’s love language is gift giving and has never expected anything in return because the joy is seeing the other person’s surprise.
I lean into his lips, the goosebumps along my arms giving way to an electric feeling zipping across my skin. Electricity that heats my body to the point it feels like if I don’t find a way to let it out, I will combust.
This kiss was completely different from the one I’d given him at the bar, when my mind was laced with panic and the only soothing thing was having his lips on mine. Like an old and familiar comfort blanket that washes away all your anxiety.
That’swhat Max was to me.
He was my comfort.
But this kiss… This was everything right and wrong all at the same time. This was the kind of kiss that alters your soul. His lips were soft and warm as they were pressed firmly against mine, his hand slipped from around my wrist and instead rests on the small of my back, drawing me closer and closer even though we were already pressed against each other.
If I could freeze this moment and stay in it forever I would.
Because this was the kiss that would make me question every stance I’ve taken against this man. Make me rethink what I want and what I could have. This was the kiss that would have me fall in love with Max all over again and would make me believe that he loves me in return.
This is the kiss that will break my heart.
When he pulls away, a part of me cracks. The shattering realization that it doesn’t matter what I do, I’ll always end up broken when it comes to Maxon. His breath is labored as he rests his forehead against mine, matching my own breathing and I’m at least relieved to know I wasn’t the only one affected by the magnitude of the moment.
“Paige, I…” He says around his deep breaths.
“I need to go get more bubble wrap.” I say before he can finish, before either of us can catch our breaths or get back into our right minds.
Something that I can’t read flashes within his eyes before he subtlety nods and his hands drop from my body causing something deeper within me to fracture even further. For half a second, I consider throwing caution to the wind and flinging myself at him once more and reliving every emotion that that kiss had just spurred. But before I can act on those fantasies I force myself to walk away, my body rigid as I make my way through the foliage back to the bench we’d used as a step.
The lights in the botanical garden had dimmed slightly while we were away from the main walk, but it was still plenty bright for me to spot the front doors and start towards them, vaguely aware of Maxon following me in the process. It’s not that I was trying to run away from him, from our kiss or the feelings that it sparked. Okay, maybe I was trying to run away from the feelings. But I couldn’t help the sudden panic and need to distance myself from him and those lips that, with the slightest suggestion, I could easily find myself falling into all over again.
I step up to the front door and pull on the handle.
It doesn’t move.
I stare at it, stop pulling for a moment before trying again.
But, again, it doesn’t budge an inch.
I push on it.
Nothing.
Panic begins to crawl up my throat as I try pulling again and still nothing moves. I swallow as I turn and look deeper into the now dimmed botanical garden, realizing for the first time that the lights that remained on were emergency lights only. My heart rate peaks as I cut a glance at Maxon who’s watching me with a furrowed brow and I straighten myself, trying to tamp down the panic attack that is at the edge of my sanity.
“We’re locked in.”