Page 82 of Shades of Grey & Gold

“She’s leaving this morning,” Max says, without turning from the window.

“I know.”

“She doesn’t want to.” I watch her wrap both hands tighter around the mug as she continues, “And I don’t want her to. But she needs to get back and I can’t ask her to upend her life for—”

“You’re not asking her to do anything,” I say. “She chose to drive up and see you. I know it was just one night, but she’ll be back.”

Max is quiet for a moment.

“Bart will stay, at least, so that’s great news,” I try to find the good for her.

She laughs, startled, and finally turns from the window.

“Yes, God forbid we lose the dog.”

“He’s good company. He doesn’t argue with me.”

“You love it when I argue with you.”

“I do think it adds something interesting to the day,” I smile around the words, which are a more controlled version of what I’d like to say which isyes, I love it, I look forwardto it every morning, it’s the best part of my day. “Becca.” I tip my head toward the hallway. “Does she—”

“She knows everything I know,” Max states, matter-of-factly. “Which is everything you’ve told me, and nothing more.” She meets my eyes. “She won’t say anything. She’s spent her whole life keeping my secrets. This one is just bigger than usual.”

I look at her for a moment.

The morning light is doing something to her hair and I wish I could stop time to absorb the moment for a little longer. I take a picture in my mind for a rainy day of the way the ponytail sits behind her tilting head and perfect cheeks.

“Okay.”

There’s nothing else to say. I have come to terms with this already.

When Max said Becca was coming, I didn’t mention that I’d called her first. Or that I’d had someone making sure Max still had a safe person back home while she was here—someone keeping a quiet eye on Becca’s building, on her routine. Protective, not intrusive. I know the difference.

I know Becca Montgomery well enough now to know she won’t say anything. More importantly, I know she loves Max the way you love someone whose whole story you’ve been watching. That’s enough for me.

The reality is Becca knowing the truth doesn’t put anyone but Becca in danger. And she’s only here temporarily.

That danger, therefore, is temporary,I reconcile.

“You made my coffee.” I pause, picking up the mug she left on the counter.

It tastes right, just the way I like it, sweet and dark, and it’s another warm, lived-in feeling hanging around in the air of the kitchen.

“You've made mine since I’ve been here with syrups you bought before I even showed up.” She raises her eyebrows. “Consider us even.”

I drink the coffee and don’t say anything else about it because there isn’t anything to say that wouldn’t be more than I’m currently able to say standing in a kitchen at seven in the morning with a plant on the island and her dog asleep on the leather couch.

Some things you hold. You just hold them and let them sit there and be true.

And there is nothing truer than the fact that Max—with her plant and her dog—belongs here.

With me.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Max

Beccaarrivesagainonthe twenty-third with a suitcase full of Christmas and two weeks of opinions she’s been storing up since she last left the penthouse.