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‘I wanted you to be settled, to find the home you wanted so badly. I wanted you to know that you have a choice.’
‘A choice for what?’
Max took a deep breath. ‘I want you to come back to me. I want you to stay being my wife. But if you don’t want that I’ll leave you alone.’
Darcy shook her head as if trying to clear it. ‘You want me back...because it’s convenient? Because—?’
Max held up a hand. ‘No.’ And then he sliced into the heart of her with all the precision of a master surgeon. ‘I want you to come back because you’ve broken me in two. I finally have everything I’ve always wanted—everything I’ve always thought I wanted. But it means nothing any more because you’re not with me. I love you, Darcy.’
Darcy blinked. I love you? This was a Max she’d never seen before. Humbled. Broken. Real. For a second she couldn’t believe it, but the depth of pain in his eyes scored at her own heart—because she knew what it felt like.
She whispered through the lump in her throat. ‘There’s never been a choice, Max. Not since the day we met again.’ She waved a hand, indicating the flat. ‘I finally have everything I thought I wanted too—a home of my own, a base—but it’s meaningless because you’re my centre.’
Max’s face leached of colour. ‘What are you saying?’
Darcy’s vision blurred with tears and she could feel her heart knitting back together. ‘I’m saying I love you too, you big idiot.’
She wasn’t sure who moved, but suddenly she was in his arms with hers wrapped around him so tightly she could hardly breathe. They staggered back until Max fell onto the couch, taking Darcy with him so she was sitting on his lap.
She wasn’t even aware she was crying until she felt Max’s hand moving up and down her back rhythmically, heard him soothing her with words in Italian...dolcezza mia...amore...
Darcy finally lifted her head and looked up at Max, who smoothed some hair off her forehead. She manoeuvred herself so that she was straddling his lap and both her hands were on his shoulders. She saw the way his eyes flared and colour came back into his cheeks and moved experimentally, exulting when she could feel the evidence of his arousal.
She moved her hips against him subtly, but pulled back when he tried to kiss her. ‘Who were the women?’
His eyes flashed with a hint of the old Max. ‘They were my attempt to be normal again. And none of them was you. Which was very annoying.’
He attempted to kiss her again but Darcy arched away, making Max scowl.
‘Did you kiss any of them?’
Max’s scowl deepened. ‘I tried.’
Darcy went still as a hot skewer of jealousy ripped through her.
‘But I couldn’t do it. For one thing they were too tall, too skinny, too chatty about stupid things. Not you.’
Darcy smiled. ‘Good.’
‘What about Jack, are you sure he’s gay?’
Now Max looked as if he wanted to skewer someone with a hot poker.
Darcy rolled her eyes. ‘It’s John. And yes, he’s gay, Max. I can practically hear him drooling from here.’
Max looked smug. ‘Good.’
Darcy brought her hands up to Max’s face, cupping it. And then she bent her head to kiss her husband, showing him with everything in her just how much she loved him. The emotion was almost painful. Max’s hands moved all over her, undoing her hair, lifting her top up and off so that she was just in her bra.
She rested her forehead against his, wondering if this was a dream. ‘I thought I’d never see you again.’
Max’s hands closed tight around her hips. He shook his head. ‘I would have come sooner, but I was a coward, and then when I heard you’d bought a place already I thought you were moving on.’
Darcy’s heart clenched. She looked into Max’s eyes. ‘You’re not a coward, Max...anything but.’
She ran a finger lightly down over his scar and he caught her hand and pressed a kiss to the centre of her palm. He looked at her. ‘The night we met Montgomery for dinner...?’
Darcy nodded.
