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“It’s Max,” I tell Tilly, heading into the living room where it’s quiet. They met briefly when he drove me back at the weekend, but it wasn’t the right moment to chat. She’s unsure whether she likes what’s happening to me, even though it’s the breakthrough we’ve all been hoping for. In a way, it paints Max as the boogeyman.
“Hey.”
“Hey. How’s your day been?”
For some reason, I was worried he’d sound uncertain. Remote. But he sounds just the same: interested; calm; smooth-voiced.
I blow out a breath. “It’s been okay. I had some research papers to read through, and well, I saw Dave.”
He knows this. It’s why he’s calling. He said he’d give me space until I’d had a chance to speak with a professional. I took that to mean Max thought I’d discuss how all these memories are flooding back, the methods ones I agreed to. Ones I found I liked.
“How did it go?”
“Good. I came away more positive. We covered quite a lot around expectations and the grieving process. You know, all those phases like denial and isolation, anger, depression.”
“But then comes acceptance.”
“Yes, but that’s a way off yet,” I say dryly.
I can hear him smile. “You’ll cycle around all those stages for some time before you reach acceptance,” he tells me more soberly, and I’m struck by how knowledgeable he seems about grief, parroting Dave’s explanation of this from a few hours ago. “But it’s good you can find some levity. Acceptance will come in time. And it’s good you feel positive—you should do because you’re doing brilliantly. It’s a lot to get your head around, Ava, and it will be for everyone in your corner.”
Insightful to the nth degree, I think of Tilly trying to stalwartly not cry when I shared what I knew. In the end, my tears, my distress, brought on her tears. And it was clearly difficult for Max to hear what had happened to me. The abduction has repercussions on people close to me, and I wonder if I need to do more consoling whilst being consoled myself.
“I wish I could see you.”
“Really?” He sounds surprised but acutely interested in the answer.
“Yeah, I miss you. Our weekend was cut short.”
There’s a moment’s pause. “I’m sitting in my car outside your house if you want to say hello.”
“What?!” I pull back the curtains and peer out into the road. Car lights flash, drawing my attention to his Jag. I wave, smiling big. “I’ll be right out.”
In the hallway, I shove on my shoes and grab my coat, yelling to Tilly, “Max is outside! I’m going to go and say hello.”
I don’t wait for her answer. I open the front door of the Victorian property and jog towards him as he stands on the pavement, waiting for me. I throw my arms around him, swallowed in his embrace. “What are you doing here?”
“I needed to see you. I wanted to make sure you’re safe and okay.”
I drop my eyes to his chest. “It’s hard to think about much else, but I’m okay. It feels like I’m remembering someone else’s life to some degree, except the way my body reacts to everything . . . well, it’s going to take time, but I want to find the missing parts.”
His palms smooth down my sides. “What about us? Am I still forgiven, or did Dave tell you to cut me loose?”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” I tell him softly. “I agreed to it. And you’re doing so much for me. Thank you for sticking by me.”
His eyes trace over my features. His thumbs run along my cheekbones and under my too almond-y eyes. “Don’t thank me. My reasons are selfish.”
“Maybe sometimes,” I concede., thinking about him surging into my mouth, my stomach pinching with want. “But underneath that you’re the best man I’ve met.”
“I’m not always the good guy,” he tells me, subdued.
I kiss his cheek. “Good or bad, you’re the guy for me.”
The corners of his mouth lift. “Does that mean you want to spend the weekend with me?”
“Yes.”
He studies me for a few seconds, absorbing my quick agreement. Of course, I want to be with him. He’s everything to me right now. “I have an invite for a very glamorous charity auction if you fancy it. It’s on Friday night. Then you can stay the weekend.”
