“Crap.” I get up and go to the door, where Max is leaning against the opposite wall with a bottle of Dom Perignon Rose. “I’m sorry, were you knocking for long?”
“Oh, only half an hour,” he teases. “Not really, just a few moments.” He holds up the bottle. “Welcome to the building,” he says and comes into my apartment, and heads straight for the kitchen.
“Champagne and pizza will go well together. But I doubt you welcome every tenant to the building with a bottle of Dom Perignon.”
“Busted.” He turns to look around. “But I don’t like every tenant like I like you.” He winks at me. “I like what you’ve done with the place.” He indicates toward my new sofa. “Unfortunately, it’s one of the smaller apartments; all the bigger ones have had the same tenants in them for years. Sorry, it’s so small.”
I look around and wonder what on earth he’s talking about. It’s as big as Shayne and Liam’s house. “Um? What? My bedroom is bigger than the one I had at Shayne and Liam’s house.”
“Regardless, sorry it couldn’t be one of the bigger apartments, as long as you’ve unpacked and are settled.”
“I am, but I can’t find my diary.”
“It’s got to be somewhere. Maybe it’s back at Shayne and Liam’s.”
“Yeah, I’ll go through the week and have a look. Anyway, let’s order pizza.”
“My treat,” Max jumps in and claims. “Considering this is your first night here, I can’t expect my tenant to buy her own pizza after all the hard work of moving.”
I roll my eyes at Max and stand with a hand on my hip. “Are you ever going to let me pay?”
“Nope.” He wraps his arms around me and brings me in tightly for a hug. “Never.” He kisses my nose, then gently kisses me on the mouth. “I’m really happy you’re here,” he adds.
“I’m happy to be here.”
“Pizza. I’ll order.” He lets me go, takes his phone out of his jeans pocket and walks in toward the second room, which I’ll eventually convert to a study, and orders pizza.
When he comes out he asks if he may sit on the sofa, then picks the remote up and starts flicking through the channels. I sit with my laptop on my lap and finish the book I’m working on. The security guard from downstairs buzzes just as I send my final edits through to the author, then open another manuscript waiting for me.
“That’ll be pizza. I’ll get it.” Max gets up and goes to the door, waiting for the delivery of dinner. “Come get it,” he calls from the kitchen. He’s laid the two pizzas out, got two plates and is pouring the champagne. We sit at the breakfast bar and he holds his flute up, ready to make a toast. “To new beginnings, and to new memories. May the best of your past be the worst of our future.” He clinks his glass to mine.
I smile, because it doesn’t escape me how he said ‘our future’ as opposed to ‘your future’. And I like what he said. “To our future,” I say and take another sip. We begin to eat and I want to broach the subject of my father with Max. “I’ve been considering your offer, and had many discussions with Katherine about it, and I’d like to take you up on it.”
“Which offer is that?” He takes a huge bite of his pizza and chews.
“About you hiring a private detective to find my dad, and whatever else they manage to uncover.”
Max nods once, and says, “Consider it done. I’ll pass your number onto whoever I hire and you can talk to them directly.”
“I prefer you be with me if they do manage to find any information.”
“Your wish shall be granted. Now, eat while it’s still hot.”
Everything is right. My life is really good. “Thank you, Max.” He nods, then shoves more pizza in his mouth.
It’s mid-April and the weather has certainly given us all something to revel in. The nights are crisp, but the days have been fantastic.
Max spends most of his spare time in my apartment, only dragging himself home to sleep. And I’ve got several manuscripts in queue, just waiting for me to give them my undivided attention.
Today’s Friday and the last day of the work week. It’s nearing the end of the day, but before I go I check my emails and find one from the sixth largest publishing company in the world. They’re based in New York, and have highly popular and acclaimed authors signed to them. The email reads cryptically. It says they’d like to get in contact with me, and can I call on them at my earliest convenient time. The name of the person is Jolene Grace and she’ll be waiting for my call.