The Bride Fonseca Needs(30)

Darcy smiled as she picked up the plates and said wryly, as she hid the dart of inevitable pain, 'Is it that obvious?'

John took a sip of wine, his eyes following Darcy as she went into the  kitchen. 'Hate to say it, love, but yes. You've got that unmistakable  Eeyore droop to your lovely mouth and eyes.'

Darcy laughed just as a knock came to her door. She looked at John and he shrugged. 'Must be another neighbour?'

She went over to open it and swung it wide to reveal a very tall, very  beautifully disheveled man with dark blond hair, olive skin and tawny  eyes. And a distinctive scar. Dressed all in black.

She could almost hear John's jaw drop behind her. And she was belatedly  and bizarrely aware that she was still smiling after his comment.

The smile slid off her face as shock and disbelief set in. 'Max.'

'Darcy.'

Her name on his tongue curled through her like warm honey, oozing over the ice packed around her heart.

'Can I come in?'                       
       
           



       

It was shock that made her act like an automaton, standing back,  opening the door wider so that Max could step in, bringing with him the  cool tang of autumn.

Darcy saw him clock John and the way his face tightened and darkened.  His jaw was shadowed with stubble, adding to his general air of  effortless disrepute.

'I'm interrupting?' He sounded stiff. Not at all like his usual insouciant self. Fazed by nothing.

Darcy tore her eyes off Max, almost afraid that he might disappear, to  see that John had somehow picked his jaw back up off the ground and was  standing up.

'No, I was just leaving.'

She was glad he'd spoken, because she wasn't sure she could speak.

She felt a quick supportive squeeze of her hand and then her neighbour was gone, closing the door behind him.

Darcy realised how close she was standing to Max and how huge he seemed in her small flat. Had he always been so huge?

She moved away, towards the table that still held the dinner detritus.

'You've lost weight.' Max's tone was almost accusing.

Darcy turned around. Of all the things she'd expected to hear from him  it hadn't been that. And for someone who'd spent much of her lifetime  lamenting her fuller figure it was ironic that in the past few months  she'd managed to drop the guts of a stone without even trying.

She crossed her arms, suddenly angry that Max was here. Invading her  space. Invading her mind. Being angry with him was easier than analysing  other, far more dangerous emotions.

'You've hardly come all this way to comment on my weight, Max.' Her  insides tightened. 'Is it something to do with the divorce?' She hadn't  received the papers yet, but had been expecting something soon.

Max shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up. The  gesture was so familiar that Darcy had to bite her lip for fear of  emitting some sound.

'No, it's not about the divorce...it's something else.' Max started to  prowl around the flat, as if inspecting it, looking into the kitchen. He  turned to face her, frowning. 'Why didn't you buy a bigger place?'

Darcy felt defensive. 'I didn't want a mortgage and I like this-it suits me.'

'I would have given you more money for somewhere bigger.'

She dropped her arms, hands spread out. 'Max...why are you here?'

He looked at her so intently that she began to sweat, becoming  self-conscious in her roll-neck top and jeans. It had been 'Casual  Friday' at her new job that day. Working as PA to the CEO of a dynamic  software company was sufficiently new and different to give her the  illusion that she could avoid thinking about Max during the day. That  illusion was now well and truly shattered.

'I wanted to make sure you had your place...that you were settled. I owe you that.'

Darcy's insides fluttered. 'I have it, Max. And I wouldn't have had it without you.'

He looked at her. 'You also wouldn't have had the media speculation and the intense scrutiny afforded to our marriage.'

Darcy almost winced. After she'd left him the papers had been consumed  by what had happened to her. Luckily she'd been able to return to London  and disappear into the crowds, unassuming enough that no one recognised  her. They'd been married for such a short amount of time it had really  only registered as a story in Italy.

'At least it didn't affect your deal with Montgomery.'

Max's mouth tightened. 'Your assessment of him was right. He'd always  intended giving me the fund-he just enjoyed making me work for it.'

Darcy sat down heavily onto the chair behind her. 'So we never had to go through with the wedding?'

Max shook his head.

He came forward and touched the back of the chair next to hers and said, 'Do you mind if I sit?'

Darcy waved a hand vaguely, barely aware of Max's uncharacteristic reticence or solicitude. Or the starkness of his features.

'The man who was just here...he is your boyfriend?'

Darcy came back into the room from imagining what might have happened,  or not happened, if they hadn't married. She didn't like to admit that  she preferred the version where they'd married. In spite of the pain.

Not really thinking, she said, 'No, John's my neighbour. And he's gay.'

Max sucked in a breath and Darcy looked at him sharply. He looked gaunt. The flutters got stronger and she hated it.

Sharply, she said, 'Not that it's any business of yours. You've hardly  been wasting any time proving that our marriage was a farce. I've seen  those pictures of you with women.'                       
       
           



       

Max stood up then and shrugged off his jacket, revealing a long-sleeved  top that clung almost indecently to his hard torso. For a second Darcy  didn't hear what he was saying...she was too hot and distracted.

'...doing everything I could to try and pretend things can go back to normal.'

Darcy blinked. Max was pacing, talking as if to himself. She swivelled  in the chair so she could watch him. He was like a glorious caged lion  in the confines of her flat.

He turned to her. 'The evening Montgomery announced that he was giving  me the fund to manage I was so overcome with emotion that I couldn't  bear for you to see it. In case you'd see that the front I'd put up  after Como was just that: a stupid, pathetic front to hide behind.'

'Max, what are you talking about?'

But he wasn't listening to her. He was pacing again, becoming increasingly angry. At himself.

'When I went upstairs and saw you packing I felt panic. Panic! I've  never panicked in my life-not even when I realised I had no option but  to live on the streets.'

Darcy stood up, but Max continued.

'And then you were standing there, so cool and collected, asking me what else I wanted now that I had achieved my goal.'

Max stopped and turned to face her again.

'You were asking me to step out into an abyss and I was too much of a  coward to do it. I told myself that I had everything I needed, that I  didn't need you. I told myself that the hunger I felt every time I  looked at you, which got worse if I wasn't near you, would fade in time.  So I let you go, and I went back down to that function, and I told  people you'd had to leave for a family emergency. I told myself I was  fine. That I would be fine.'

He shook his head.

'But I wasn't. I'm not. The day my parents split my brother and I up I  showed my emotions. I cried because I wanted to stay with my mother.'

His mouth twisted.

'I couldn't believe that she was going to leave me behind with my  father... I had no thought for my brother, only myself. But he was the  stoic one. I was the one falling apart. And so she took me, and I spent  my life paying for it. When you were leaving me I wanted to slam the  door shut and lock it to prevent you going. I didn't. Because I was  afraid of what might happen if I just let all that emotion out. I was  afraid my world would turn on its axis again and I'd lose it all just  when I'd finally got it. I was afraid I'd lose myself again.'

Darcy's breathing was erratic. 'What are you saying, Max?'

'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.'