Page 40 of The Godfather’s Christmas Twins
He watches me and then steps back. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He closes his eyes again. When he opens them, I can see he’s put his buffers back in place. He gives me a wan smile. “You’re right to be wary of me.” He gives me a sheepish smile. “It appears my ego was wounded that you weren’t bothered by Whitley’s visit.But why would you be?” His gaze is soft, but filled with emotion, almost like he’s proud of me. “You’re a strong, beautiful woman, Gia. Stronger than I think anyone gives you credit for.”
“Yeah, well…”
He gives a nod toward his side of the house. “I’m heading off to bed. Goodnight, Gia.”
He’s leaving? All of a sudden, I don’t want him to. Max retreats to his room. The space he leaves feels colder somehow, emptier.
It feels like there’s more to say. That if they’re not said, this distance between us will become permanent. Isn’t that what I want? No. But neither do I want him to keep pulling me close and then pushing me away.
My feet movebefore my brain catches up. I can't let him walk away, not with so much left unsaid. Not when I've spent the last day convincing myself the kiss meant nothing to him when in fact, I think it did.
"Max, wait." My voice carries down the hallway.
He stops just outside his bedroom but doesn't turn around.
I close the distance between us, my bare feet silent on the carpet. "About Whitley… I, ah… I didn’t like seeing her here, and not just because of the kids. I just… well, I thought you regretted last night. When you acted so normal this morning, I assumed…"
"You assumed wrong." He turns to face me, his expression unguarded for once. “I just didn’t know how to act. Maybe you regretted it.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t regret it. I don’t regret it.”
He leans forward, resting his forehead against mine. “I don’t regret it either. And in case you’re thinking it, I don’t regret six years ago, either. I’m just inept at knowing how to deal with it.”
My breath catches. After so long believing he saw that night as his greatest regret, his words shake loose something inside me.
"But maybe you're right." Max steps back, the warmth of his body fading. "Keeping your distance is smart. The situation hasn't changed.”
My chest tightens at his sudden shift. One moment, he's telling me the kiss wasn't a mistake, and the next, he's backing away. Again.
“What the fuck, Max?”
He flinches at my outburst.
“You’re doing it again, bringing me close and then shoving me away. Tell me what you want. First you can't stand to be around me, then you kiss me, then you act like nothing happened. Now you're telling me it meant something but in the same breath saying I should stay away?” I give an exasperated growl. “What do you want? Because I’m getting whiplash trying to figure it out.”
"It's complicated?—”
"No." I cut him off. "It's really not. Either you want this or you don't. Either you feel something real or you're just… what? Lonely? Confused? Missing your girlfriend?"
His jaw tightens. "Whitley's not my girlfriend."
"That's what you focus on?" I throw my hands up. "God, Max. I can't keep doing this dance with you. One step forward, three steps back. It's exhausting."
His shoulders sag. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him look defeated. "What I want doesn't matter."
"It matters to me." My voice cracks. "Unless you're just playing games?"
"You know I'm not."
"Do I? Because from where I'm standing, you're either afraid to admit what you want or you're enjoying keeping me off balance."
I watch Max's internal struggle play across his face. The usually controlled man before me looks torn, vulnerable in a way I've never seen.
"You think I don't want you?" His voice comes out rough. "That's the problem, Gia. I want you too much. I have since that night six years ago. But wanting you is wrong."
“Who says?”
He shrugs. “The world.”