With his soda in hand, Max wandered around the dance floor, smiling and speaking to friends and members of Kat's family. Her mother was a little prickly, as Carter had warned him she might be, but her stepfather seemed cool. Her grandmother, Nana Boo, though, was fucking epic and danced with Max for two full songs before she went off in search of a glass of sherry. It eased a small part of Max knowing that Carter had a new family around him, people who seemed to genuinely care and want good things for him and Kat.
He looked out at the ocean, as blue as the sky it met on the horizon, and closed his eyes knowing that Grace would have loved it. He would have loved dancing here with her, in the moonlight, kissing her under the stars.
"Max?" Startled, he turned to see Kat, cheeks flushed, her green eyes bright and happy. "You okay?"
He smiled, shaking off the whispers of melancholy his thoughts of Grace brought. "Yeah. I'm good. How're you?" He nodded toward where Carter was dancing with Nana Boo, her small bare feet balanced on his large shiny dress shoes. "Feel weird yet?"
Kat laughed. "No. It feels perfect."
"Good."
"You sure you're still okay staying here tonight after we leave?"
He sipped his drink. "Absolutely."
"Great." She smirked, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "You know, I was thinking, maybe you could ask Grace to stay here with you."
Max frowned, having thought about the exact same thing and how awesome it would have been. "She's in Preston County," he muttered.
"Really?" Kat looked back at him and tilted her head toward the house.
Max's gaze snapped over to the beach house, where, standing by the French windows, in the same red dress she'd worn at the lake, was Grace. His chest did an honest-to-God somersault when she smiled nervously, causing him to stare, knowing she was damn near the most perfect thing he'd ever seen.
Max wasn't sure how he got to her, wasn't sure whether he walked or floated across the dance floor, and only realized he was moving when he was a couple of feet away from her. He stopped, taking her in, her black hair loose around her face and down her back and shoulders, fluttering in the gentle breeze. Her beautiful dark skin, exquisite against the vibrant color of her dress, and her long legs, perfect feet, and toes that were painted to match.
He licked his lips. "What-how-what are . . .?"
She laughed. "Does it matter?"
He shook his head, stuck for words. "No. It doesn't matter one bit. You're here. I thought . . ."
"I thought so, too, but . . . I missed you too much." She gestured toward his gray suit with a lift of her hand. "You look beautiful."
Max grimaced. "That was going to be my line."
Smirking, Grace shrugged. "Well, it's my line now." She laughed again when Max stayed silent, unable to do anything but just look at her. "What?"
"Just you," he answered, taking a step closer. "Fillin' the fuckin' room."
"I'm in the doorway," she teased. "I'm practically outside."
"Doesn't matter where you are," he assured her. "You're all I see."
Grace's face seemed to soften and relax with his words. "Max." She stepped forward, closing the remaining distance between them, the scent of cocoa butter wafting over him. "Before we say or do anything else, we have to talk."
Max nodded, his pulse spiking with anticipation, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
"You asked me to tell you what I want," she continued. "And I can tell you now."
"Okay." Max braced himself.
Grace licked her top lip, scraping it gently with her teeth, as her shoulders rose. "I want you to tell me that this is real," she said carefully. "I want you to tell me you want this; that you want me; not that you need me, because you don't need me any more than you need to drink or get high. I want you to promise me that you're not going to run away again, that you'll talk, be honest with me, that we'll both always fight our demons for ourselves, not each other. And, if you can, if you can do all of that, I'll swear to you, I'll do the same."
Max swallowed as her request wrapped tightly around his heart, trapping his reply in his throat. He breathed, clenched his teeth in an effort to gather himself, and said, "I won't run again. Ever. And I do want you. I do, Grace. This is real, I promise. I lo- I . . ."
Grace squeezed his hand, halting his struggle with words he hadn't uttered to anyone for a hell of a long time. "No labels," she murmured, smiling.
His shoulders dropped in relief. It wasn't that Max didn't want to say the words. Jesus, he wanted to tell her; he just didn't know if he could. They'd frightened him beyond reason for so long that, despite feeling what they stood for in every fiber of his body, voicing them to Grace would take time.