She, the Kingdom (She #1)(31)

*

Amelia sat next to me on the couch with her hands over her eyes. Her bare knees were up to her chest, her hair cascading over her shoulders in soft waves. Just half way through the summer, and she looked as if she’d spent a month in Hawaii. Her hand finally came away from her face, and she blinked her thick lashes. “Why are we watching this again?”

“Because it’s good,” I said, stuffing popcorn into my mouth. My house was dark except for the gory scenes on my new sixty-something-inch flat screen. Josh was going to flip.

Amelia reached over into my bowl, grabbing a handful for herself. “I’m going to have nightmares.” She gasped, covering her eyes again. Popcorn flew up and then into her lap and between the couch cushions. She grabbed for her phone, her face glowing from the light of the display.

“Are you texting John?” I asked.

“I want to make sure he’s home when I get there. I’m not walking into that huge house alone.”

“I thought he’d be out late with the guys. Saturday night something?”

She rolled her eyes. “Saturday night poker, and no. He can’t make it past midnight since the Kingstons’ party. He said he’s realized how old he is.” She smiled. “He’s home.”

The credits began to roll, and she immediately gathered her things.

“Really?” I asked.

She bent down to kiss my forehead. “Love you. I’m sorry you have to sleep alone. Those creatures will keep me up for a week, and my husband is beside me in bed.”

“Those things live in a cave, and we’re not spelunkers, Amelia. Our adventure comes in the form of scary movies, remember?”

She flashed a big, toothy smile. “Thank God. Watch me walk out to the car, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, standing. She pushed through the front door and sprinted to her Mercedes. I giggled as she checked her back seat before getting in, and waved to her as she backed out of the driveway.

I closed and locked the door as she pulled away, and sat on the couch, grabbing the remote to find something else to watch. Someone banged on the door, and I jumped. The banging happened again, and I pressed my palms against the couch cushions. “Who is it?” I called.

“It’s me,” Max said from the other side of the door.

“Max?” I frowned for a minute, processing his voice and words, making sure I’d heard him correctly.

“Yes, Morgan, it’s me. Please let me in.”

I scrambled from the couch and rushed to the door, first turning on the light, and then twisting the bolt lock and then the knob. Max stood with his hand propped against the doorjamb, his shoulders sagging, his eyes blood shot.

I wrinkled my nose. “You smell.”

“Can I come in?”

I stepped to the side, watching him stumble into my living room. The door shut with a thud, and I pressed my back against it. He was sloppy drunk, barely able to keep his head up, his face pale and sagging, but he was somehow still beautiful.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I haven’t slept since Thursday night. I apologize for showing up at your home drunk, but I’ve tried everything.”

“Isn’t Sophie home?”

His face twisted into disgust, and his lips flapped when he blew out a breath. “She’s sleeping in the guest suite. We’ve been fighting for two days. I’m not even sure what happened. I brought home dinner Friday night—her favorite—and she accused me of being a lazy husband, saying I should have taken her out. Maybe I should have, I don’t know…” He raked his fingers through his hair, swearing under his breath.

“Max,” I said to get his attention. “Why are you here?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a clip of hundred dollar bills.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“A thousand dollars. I need to sleep.”

The money made me instantly angry. “You want to stay here? You thought you could show up with a bunch of money and land between my legs for the night? We had an agreement, Max. That doesn’t mean I’m a whore.”

His face fell. “No. God, no. Morgan—” His hand fell to his thigh, and the clip fell to the ground. He bent over to pick up the money, but fell onto his knees.

“Jesus,” I said, hurrying to help him.

He looked up to me, weaving. “Can I stay? I’ll pay more. Two thousand? Three?”

“Stop!”

“I’m so sorry. My intention’s not to anger you. I just… I need sleep.”

He was so strong and intimidating at the hospital. The expression on his face at the moment was pitiful. My anger transferred to Sophie. I wanted to blame her, and whatever emotional issue he had that gave her that kind of power over him. “You can stay. But you have to shower, first.”

“Done,” he said, nodding once.

I helped him up, and he walked across the living room and into the hallway. Once he entered my room, he kicked off his shoes, and then unbuckled his belt, pulling it from the loops of his jeans. He tossed the brown leather to the chair in the corner of my bedroom as he passed. Not even a minute after he disappeared behind my bathroom door, the shower began to spray.

I sat on my bed, wondering if Sophie’s mood had anything to do with what I saw at Doty & Levitz the day before. Max began to sing in the shower, and I covered my mouth, trying to stifle a smile for a few seconds before I stopped to listen. He was actually pretty good. I strained to hear what song he was singing, and then sat up when he opened the door with one of my ratty towels tied around his waist.