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Max looks to me and I shake my head. “No, thank you.”
I eye the selection of puddings, not sure where to start.
Dinner tonight has been utterly romantic. Hidden away in a secluded booth, the evening has passed in a slow, suspended pocket of time. We’ve shared our childhoods, our school days, and what we do in our spare time.Bad knitting, Max had teased, when I wasn’t sure what to say apart from my renewed love of running and playing with my niece.
“Do you know,” I begin, taking my eyes off my canary yellow diamond to find Max looking at me adoringly, “I’m going to knit you a scarf of oranges. For obvious, patriotic reasons, and because of the company branding. And I think you’ll prefer my scarf adorned with plump oranges rather than the beautiful, wonky hearts I carefully crafted,” I say, laying it on thick.
“And I will wear it with pride,” he assures me with a devil-kissed smirk.
Wearing my black dress tonight with its sharp v-neckline that daggers right to the middle of my size B décolletage, I feel confident and sexy tonight. And high heels always make me feel well-dressed. The impeccably dressed, gorgeous man opposite me is the absolute bonus.
Earlier, when we discussed my work, I found it hard to articulate what I want to do going forwards. I explained that working in a lab, a job that I loved, just didn’t work out for me. Constantly distracted, I fell foul of numerous protocols and systems, my research needing to be scrapped before I’d barely started. And sick leave didn’t interest me. I didn’t want to besick.I wanted to be strong and independent.
And then, ironically, I moved in with my sister.
In the end, my boss, Gia, suggested I work from home for a while, editing and proofreading scientific documents that the lab normally farmed out to a third party. Choosing what hours to work suited me. Being consistent, and managing my time well were areas that felt like monumentally difficult aspects of the working day.
So, yes, I became really bad at something I was good at.
Max shared more about his business, explaining that his father retired, leaving the company to Max and his siblings.
He didn’t go to university, instead learning the trade from a young age. It’s been his entire life. His brother, Ellis, studied geology at university and is in charge of the mining operation. There are two De Vries mines, one in Canada, and one in Angola. Meanwhile, his sister is a lawyer for the company.
It’s a fascinating insight into Max and his life.
“I believe,” Max begins, interrupting my thoughts as I try and decide on a pudding, “we need to talk about New York. I think this is why it’s proving hard to work out where you want to be, and what you want to do going forwards.”
I nod, wondering how to keep Max in my life if I was in America. “I hoped that before I made the final decision, my memories would return. Only then can I decide if I want to move away, or stay local. After all, my support network is here: friends, counselling, support groups.” Not that I go to the latter anymore. Participating in that sort of environment is difficult when your memory’s screwed, but it was beneficial hearing other women—and men—share their stories. For one, I know I’m not alone. This didn’t happen just to me.
“And me,” Max says quietly. “I’m here.”
“I know. I wouldn’t want to ruin this,” I murmur back. “But my sister’s family are all I have. I have no father—at all. And Mum phones literally once in a blue moon. She leads her life and leaves us to ours. She didn’t even know I was missing.”
“What? How is that possible?”
“She’s in California, working in the film studios. She doesn’t care about the UK news—she’s more interested in celebrity magazines. It’s why I avoid them,” I admit. “And Jonas rang my sister when I went missing; he didn’t know otherwise. My sister is all I have.”
“And you didn’t tell your mother later?”
“Yes, but she didn’t fly over for ten days. She stayed for thirty-one hours before flying back.” Sad, I shake my head. “Mum only brings her own problems to the table, and that’s predominantly men who are ignoring her. And besides, she left me—us—and it’s hard to get over that. For a time, I had panic attacks.”
Max’s smile is grim, his gaze dropping to the table. “Sounds like you’re doing the right thing. You don’t need to add toxicity to your life when you need comfort and love.” He gathers up my hands, a fork still dangling in one of them as I’m still contemplating which pudding to start with. “That’s what I’m here for. You understand that, don’t you?”
Comfort and love.
Those words nourish me on so many levels. I nod because I recognised it in him before I even knew him. Before it could be demonstrated beyond his inviting smile that filled me with warmth. “I don’t know where you came from, but I’m so happy we met.”
Eyes soft, Max nods. “Same.”
When we get backto the house we head straight upstairs. We both know what’s coming, and I can’t see any reason why I wouldn’t want to screw the hell out of this man as soon as I possibly can.
“Shower?”
“Don’t get my hair wet,” I request, stripping out of my dress and hanging it up in the enormous walk-in wardrobe. I take a seat on the fancy ottoman and slip off my shoes. In just my underwear, I find Max in the ensuite, the water already running.
He helps me out of my last remaining clothes, dropping kisses on my shoulder, my neck and my temple, while I run my hands over his chest.
We don’t take long—just enough to lather some body wash into our skin and rinse, our bodies slippery when we brush up against each other, helping. I slide soapy hands over his strong arms and shoulders while Max sweeps his hands across my breasts, between my legs and the swells of my bottom.
