Page 137 of The Romance Line

Max

My joints are stiff. My muscles bark. My neck is filing a lawsuit against me for indecent sleep. But when I finally manage to open my tired eyes and fumble around for my phone on the console, two beautiful notes flash on the screen.

The first is from Everly, and it makes my heart soar. I grip the phone tight almost like I’m hugging it in my hand. I neededthis. I needed this from her so badly. But I needhereven more. One quick glance at the time and I get the hell out of my car before the sun comes up. I’m not going to try to buy her love back with gifts,butat the same time, I’ve got a streak going.

And athletes don’t mess with streaks.

I google the nearest coffee shop, place an order to go, then jog down the street to Doctor Insomnia’s two blocks from here. But along the way, I catch a scent of my morning breath.

That won’t do. When I dart into the shop a minute later to scoop up the order, I spy some mints at the counter. I buy a pack and stuff some in my mouth, chewing off the morning breath as I rush back to Everly’s place with her daily morning London fog latte. Outside her place, I peer upstairs. The light’s on.

Good.

I park myself on the steps of her building as the sun slowly peeks above the pale blue light of the horizon, pulling up a new day with it. Stretching my neck from side to side, I answer the other note on my phone as I wait for her to come downstairs. As I do, I feel…hope.

Because of her.

Because even when I freaked the fuck out, she looked out for me. She sent me this text last night. She didn’t want me to wake up and worry that we were over.

I need to earn her trust. Every damn day.

Five minutes later, the door swings open.

“Oh!” She stops in place, startled.

I stand and thrust out the cup. “Hi. It’s your morning London fog latte. Personal delivery. And today’s order comes with an apology,” I say, then I don’t waste any time speaking straight from the heart. Owning my shit. “I fucked up last night and made a mistake with the things I said, and I promise I’m going to try to do better if you’ll let me.”

Her smile is like the sun rising, slowly, beautifully, lighting up the dawn. Her big brown eyes tour my frame as an eyebrow rises. “Why are you wearing the same clothes as last night?”

I glance down at my purple shirt. It’s wrinkled and probably stinks. My hair’s a bigger mess than usual. “I slept in my car.”

She shakes her head like there’s water in her ears. “You slept in your car?”

But the sleeping arrangements make perfect sense to me. “I wanted to be here when you woke up. To deliver your drink. And to take you to work. And to say I’m sorry. And most of all to tell you I love you so damn much,” I say, and that smile of hers? It grows ten million times bigger. But I have more to say. So much more. “You don’t need to say it back. I don’t expect anI love you. I’m not telling you to get it in return. This is how I feel, and I want you to know that I am all in. I believe in you. I believe in us. I trust that this real favorite thing we have is going to work, and I will do whatever you need from me to make this easy. Just let me know.”

She takes the cup, lowers it to the concrete, and loops her arms around my neck. The last remnants of the tension I woke up with miraculously fade away thanks to her touch. I shudder from the feel of her hands on me once again. Her fingers play with the ends of my hair.

“I have a bunch of things to say, but the most important is this—I love you too, Max Lambert,” she says, and those words are all I’ve wanted to hear from her, and I am so damn glad she didn’t listen to me and make me wait for them. I need them now, like I need her now.

She kisses me, and her kiss is everything good in the world, but it stops too soon. When she breaks it, she shoots me a curious look, asking, “Why do you taste like a mint farm?”

With a laugh, I nod to my car. “See above. I slept in my car. So I ate a bunch of mints this morning.”

“I can’t believe you slept in your car,” she says, sounding kind of amazed, and maybe even delighted.

I curl my hands around her waist, not caring if herneighbors or anyone else sees us right now. She lets me hold her too, telling me she doesn’t care either. “I slept in my car because I needed to be here when you woke up. I needed to be here to bring you your latte. Because I want you to know I will show up for you every day. Even if I make a mistake, I will keep showing up. I spiraled because of my past and my fears, but they have nothing to do with you, and you’re not responsible for them. I am. And I promise I will do better. And I wanted to tell you that. And also I really needed to tell you that I love you.” I kiss her forehead. “I love you.” I kiss her eyelids. “I love you.” I kiss those beautiful lips and taste all her love too.

When we break the kiss, she strokes my beard slowly, like she’s memorizing the feel of me. Maybe confirming I’m really here with her. “And I love you, Max. So much,” she says softly but with the strength too that I know is bone-deep in her. “But there are other things I need to say.”

I give a crisp nod. I didn’t expect to spackle over last night with anI love youand a latte. We need words too. “I’m listening,” I say.

She lets go of my neck then sets her hands on my shoulders, giving herself a little space perhaps to say what needs to be said. “You hurt me last night when you asked if I was using you for a promotion. I hope you know I would never do that.”

“I know,” I say, ashamed I went there.

“That’s not who I am,” she says, as if she’s imploring me to understand. “I would never use you. Everything I feel for you is so real. And trust me, I tried, I really tried, to fight how I was feeling for you.”

A smile tugs at my lips, but I deny it, focusing insteadon her. “I know you did, sunshine. I know this isn’t easy for you.”