My heart’s racing again.
He doesn’t answer.
I keep checking as I head over to Shay’s car. When I slip behind the wheel and my phone syncs with the dash, I tense at the lack of response.
But I have places to be.
So, after selecting my favorite Camden album, I set off.
The second I’m turning at the end of our street, he texts.
*Maxim sends a picture*
Maxim: Dressed to impress?
It’s me.
Head down as I stare at my phone on the way out of the house.
God, what a relief I didn’t freakin’ squeal!
Swallowing, I tell my phone to text:
Me: You asked my guards to take a picture?
Maxim: Maybe I’m here?
I pull onto the side of the road and snag my cell.
There are so many intrusions into my privacy on the daily that it no longer affects me. What does is the notion that he might be here.
Maxim.
In.
Poughkeepsie.
The ache, low down in my core, comes as no surprise.
I’m pretty sure if I checked, I’d find I was wet which, hello, is insane. But he’s always been this fantasy for me. On the periphery of my life. This person who’ll kill to keep me safe. Yet one I can’t touch…
Me: Are you?
Maxim: Do you want me to be?
My toes curl in my boots.
Me: It’s a private function
Maxim: Guests are allowed
Me: How do you know?
Maxim: You’re my business
I squirm.
Me: Are you here?
