To Have It All(38)

“Okay,” she acquiesced after a brief silence, “but promise me something.” She rubbed at her nose with her sleeve.

“What?”

“Live these next two weeks, okay? I mean,” she paused, clearing the emotion from her throat, searching for words, “Really live, Liam,” she finally finished. “Spend some of this guy’s money. He’s got a ton. It doesn’t make you an asshole or a thief. Do something fun and crazy. Laugh. Love on that little girl. Maybe you don’t feel like she’s yours, but she may be the closest you’ll ever get to being a daddy. It may only be two weeks, but it could be special. Just please,” she wept as she rested a firm hand on my chest, “live.”

Nodding, I added, “I will. Now promise me no more tears and that you won’t exhaust yourself.”

“I’ll try,” she promised before stepping up and kissing my cheek. “Call me if you or Waverly need anything.”

“I will. Give David a hug for me.” We’d discussed bringing David in the loop, trying to include him, but in the end, we decided, for the time being, not to tell him I was alive in Max’s body—not that he knew who Max was. It wasn’t an easy decision, especially since I loved my nephew like a son, but we agreed to wait until we knew more.

I waited until the elevator doors closed before I went back to the apartment. Closing the door quietly, hoping not to wake Pimberly, I crept to the living room and plopped on the couch.

Two weeks.

My fate would be decided in a measly fourteen days. On one hand, fourteen days felt like the blink of an eye, but on the other . . . it felt like eternity. The hardest part was not knowing what would happen. I mean, it would be one thing if I’d known for sure I would die, but I didn’t. I couldn’t make any big changes or decisions because I had no way of knowing if Max would end up back in his body, with the consequences of the decisions I’d made in his lap. Not that I would do anything illegal or harmful, but I still felt obligated to preserve his lifestyle as much as I could. I would not be a cruel and selfish dick, though. I didn’t care if that pissed him off or not.

Lost in thought, I almost dozed off when I heard Pimberly babbling, her baby voice so soft and sweet. The bedroom door was cracked open, so I peeked inside. Waverly was on her back, her foot propped up on a pile of pillows. She was out cold, not at all phased by Pimberly. I guess the pain pills got to her. It was the first time I’d seen her at ease; relaxed. So far, the only version of Waverly I’d known was a woman scorned, a woman bent out of shape and on edge. The more I discovered about Max and what he’d done to her, the more I understood why she was this way. It was pretty damn sad. I knew when she was rude to me—condescending and insulting—it was meant for Max, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. Still, I understood. Ornery as she might have been, it certainly didn’t take away from her beauty. I couldn’t help it. I stared at her for a moment. The strap of her tank hung loosely over her shoulder exposing the slightest curve of her breast. Her skin looked so fucking smooth. I wondered how soft it would feel beneath my fingertips . . . how good it would feel letting my lips graze.

Pimberly gurgled something jerking my attention away. I scrubbed my face roughly a few times to clear my thoughts. What the hell was I just doing? I’d been sitting there staring at Waverly like a fucking perv in front of her daughter. Get it together, Liam, I scolded myself.

Treading lightly as not to disturb Waverly, I pulled her shirt strap up and tugged the blankets over her, then switched off the lamp on the nightstand. Peering down at her, I don’t know why, but I whispered, “Night.”

Scooping Pimberly up, I grabbed a diaper and some wipes and brought her out to the living room. After I had changed her, we laid on the couch, and I pulled up some photos of bikes.

“That,” I showed her the photo of the bike, “is a 1948 Panhead. That’s my dream bike.”

“Bike,” she gurgled as she stabbed her chubby finger at the phone screen.

Laughing, I squeezed her to me and kissed her temple. She was too damn cute. Something about this kid made my heart swell. For a moment, maybe the first time since I became Max Porter, I actually felt sorry for him. This little girl, his little girl was amazing, and he would never know it. The worst part was it was his choice not to know it. Most little girls want to hear stories of princess’s and fairy tales, but Pim wanted to look at Harley’s and watch bike races. She was rare; one of a kind. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing with you, kid,” I told her. “If I ever have a daughter of my own, I want her to be just like you.”

“Li-ham,” she whispered as she lay her head on my chest and snuggled closer.

And that was it. I was done. Pimberly had officially stolen my heart.





My eyelids felt like lead as I pried them open the next morning, allowing the harsh lighting from the morning sun to blind me. The retina-destroying sunlight, coupled with the pain meds making me groggy made climbing out of bed feel almost impossible. Damn, the sun was bright. I sneered at it as if it could see my disdain. Stupid sun. Why in the hell would anyone want floor to ceiling windows? Then I snickered to myself, amused by my question.

This is Max we’re talking about, Waverly. There would always be a huge question mark over that man. He was a riddle—the worst kind, too. Women might enjoy a little mystery when it comes to a man—the thrill and the danger of the unknown—but Max wasn’t that. He was the farthest from it. The questions surrounding Max were sad, really. Why was he so selfish? Why was he so mean? Why did he abandon his wife and daughter?