She, the Kingdom (She #1)(41)
He pushed up to face me. “No. No, that’s not why. The last thing I would ever want to do is make you feel the way I made you feel yesterday. I was just so angry. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“Why? You have no right to be angry.”
“You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I have no excuse.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
He blinked. “I’ve thought about it quite a bit, actually. The only thing that keeps coming to mind is—and I feel selfish for saying it aloud—jealousy.”
“You’re…”
“Jealous. I want you all to myself.” He rubbed his eyes. “I know. I know it makes no sense. I’m in love with Sophie.”
“Are you?” I pressed my lips together, regretting the words the moment they were uttered from my mouth.
Max looked confused. “Yes. Why?”
“Do you know someone named Landry?”
Max thought for a moment. “I used to. How do you know him?”
“I saw him the other day at the attorney’s office. I was going to pay off my balance from the divorce.”
“He’s a private investigator last I heard. Did he know you?” He put his hand on my knee. “Did he approach you?”
“No.” I paused, trying to build enough courage to say the words aloud.
“But you knew him?”
“He was with Sophie.”
Those four words stopped Max’s world, and the only thing he could do was blink and breathe while he tried to make sense of what I’d told him.
“Did Sophie speak to you?” he asked, cautious.
“Yes.”
“Explains her questions the other day.” He hesitated, and then closed his eyes. “What do you know?”
“I don’t know anything. I can only speculate. But they looked very friendly, Max. I’m worried…”
When I didn’t finish the sentence, Max prompted me. “Say it.”
“I’m worried she’s done all this—me, the agreement, pushing this whole thing—to set you up.”
“For what?”
“I’m not sure. Again, it’s only a guess.”
“Morgan.”
“For a divorce. I think she’s planning a divorce.”
He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Then why not just divorce me? She has her own money. She doesn’t need mine.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
His gaze met mine, and then he broke away, looking at the clock. “It’s late.”
“Oh. Right. We should…” I began to scoot down on the bed, but he stopped me.
“If it’s all right with you, I’d just like to lay here a while.”
My eyebrows shot up, and he settled against the pillow. After a few moments to wrap my head around his request, I turned off the light, and lay next to him.
“Tell me something good, Morgan. I need to relax.”
I was staring at the ceiling, listening to Max breathe a few inches from my ear. He already sounded relaxed, but I’d just dropped a huge bomb on him. I took in a deep breath and tried to think of something to say.
“My parents called today. They heard about you, and our arrangement. The fake arrangement, not the real one.”
“Oh? And how does that make you feel?”
“Well, I guess it makes me feel like a liar.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I owe them. For Santa, and the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy… they’ve lied to me a lot.”
Max breathed out a laugh. “Are you close?”
“Pretty close. I don’t go see them as much as I should. But, they’re retired.”
“Oh,” Max said. “They travel a lot.”
I smiled. “No. they can’t afford it. Mom has a garden. Dad likes to fish.”
“Sounds nice.”
“They take care of my brother and his family a lot. I won’t take their help, so they tend to focus where they’re needed.”
“Ah. Big brother is the squeaky wheel.”
“Yes, and somehow still amazing and without fault.”
Max shook his head. “They have to see what an exceptional human being you are. They must admire the mother you are. Your independence. Surely they see it.”
“They love me. They respect me. I don’t need them to write a sonnet about it.”
“I admire those things about you. Not that you require anyone’s validation.”
“I don’t,” I said. “But it’s still nice to hear. Thank you.”
Max yawned, and then he sat up, positioning himself between my legs. I turned off the light, melting into the mattress as he pulled me toward him.
“Goodnight,” I whispered, but he didn’t answer back.
*
I blinked, feeling both of Max’s arms holding me tight. It was the morning of July Fourth, just a few days after the four-week mark of our sessions. Although I hadn’t had any trouble sleeping from the beginning, waking up as the little spoon wasn’t so strange anymore.
The air conditioning was blowing at full force through the vents, already struggling to keep up. It was the time of year that not even the night could offer reprieve from the heat.