I tried to hide my grin. I wasn’t sure what set things straight meant. I hoped at the very least it would mean we wouldn’t hate each other. But a huge part of me really wanted more, more than I deserved. I wanted Max. I had to believe I wasn’t too late.
“Lasagna’s my favorite,” I replied.
* * * * *
“Oh my God, I remember when she was born,” Violet said as we came down the stairs after primping Amanda for as long as we could stretch out. “It seems like yesterday. And now . . .”
Max slung his phone on the counter and raised his eyebrows, instantly in the moment with his family despite whatever corporate emergency was bound to be causing him stress. “Is she ready?” he asked. He’d left us to primp and prime his daughter, but was clearly as invested in the event as the rest of us were.
I nodded. “She’s coming.”
Violet had put some waves in Amanda’s hair, so it looked very natural falling over her shoulders. And although I’d spent a lot of time on her makeup, it could have been done in two minutes—it was just a little mascara and a touch of lip gloss. Hopefully Max would approve.
I watched Max as he gazed at his daughter coming down the stairs in the blue and silver dress we’d picked out. His eyes went glassy and he tilted his head. “Peanut, you look completely beautiful.”
My heart squeezed. I wanted to reach out for him.
He walked toward her and she stepped back, putting her hands up to stop him from coming closer.
“You can’t touch me; you’ll ruin my hair or smudge my makeup.”
He chuckled, bent down, and kissed the top of her head. “You’re getting so tall. Are you going to FaceTime your mom?”
She shook her head. “She’ll just get emotional. We took some photos. I’ll send them tomorrow.”
She might only be fourteen but worrying about her mother’s feelings in a situation that was really all about her showed a great deal about her character. A personality that had been shaped in part by the man I’d so foolishly let go.
I hung back as Scarlett and Violet gathered their things and ushered Amanda out the door. Max followed, then stopped to lean against the doorway.
Before she got in the car, Amanda turned and waved. “Bye, Dad. Bye, Harper. Enjoy your date.”
I got the impression Amanda would be very happy to see our dinner become something more than apology and air clearing and that gave me some hope she knew something of Max’s intentions.
We watched them drive off until their taillights had completely disappeared.
“She’s beautiful, Max,” I said.
“She is. Thank you for being here, for helping her. I wanted this to be special; she’s been so excited.”
“It’s been a total pleasure. You didn’t want to go with them?” I asked as Max closed the door.
“Amanda wouldn’t let me. I think she was concerned I’d kick Callum Ryder’s ass given half a chance. And anyway, we have things to talk about,” he replied. He held my gaze and my breathing hitched.
I had things to apologize for. “Max, I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry. I’ve been an idiot and selfish and I lost all judgment when it came to JD Stanley. You did nothing wrong . . .” My words were running together; I wanted to get them all out before he had a chance to say anything that would make it harder to get them out, wanted to make him see how I understood he’d done nothing wrong. I covered my face with my hands.
“I’m the one who’s sorry.” He removed my hands from my face and threaded his fingers through mine. “We were involved and I didn’t think through the consequences of accepting your father’s ultimatum. I have no experience mixing the personal and the professional, so I didn’t think about you or your feelings. I should have.”
“It wasn’t as if we were serious, but if we had been . . .”
He squeezed my hands and heat travelled up my body. “Maybe I gave you the impression that it was just sex, but I’m not sure it was ever that for me. I want to take you out on dates, to have you here with me and Amanda. I want to talk and laugh and wake up together.” He sighed and shook his head. “I thought we had time. I missed the bit where I told you how important you were to me. I told you I’ve had zero practice at this stuff.”
My stomach twisted. “I was important?” Did that mean he’d moved on?
“Was and are,” he said. “I’m just so sorry I screwed it up.”
How was he making this so easy for me? I’d expected to have to try to convince him, talk him round.
It wasn’t too late. I closed my eyes, trying to compose myself. “You didn’t. We’d made no promises to each other, and my issues with my father aren’t your battles to fight.”