To Have It All(40)

“Morning, little sweetheart,” he rasped. “Looks like we pulled an all-nighter on the couch.”

“Do you still drink coffee?” I finally asked, making my presence known. Max’s head jerked back at the sound of my voice. Clearly, I’d startled him.

“Oh, morning,” he grunted as he sat up, holding Pim tight to him. “I didn’t hear you come out.” His usually perfect hair was disheveled, one side sticking straight up and his shirt was wrinkled, but with Pim curled in his arms, he looked . . . fatherly. He looked like what I’d once dreamed of. He looked . . . sexy.

“The sound of a motorcycle revving woke me,” I lied as I moved a step back with my crutches. Maybe I was petty for making fun of his ring tone, but it felt good to take a stab at him.

He shrugged, not missing the sarcasm in my comment. “I dig the ring tone.” Then turning his head to Pim, he said in a goofy voice, “We dig it, don’t we Pim?”

“Milk,” Pim replied.

“She’s like her Mama,” I informed Max, quirking one eyebrow. “You can’t speak to her until she’s had her milk, just like you can’t speak to me until I’ve had my coffee.”

“Is that so?” he chuckled, half his mouth quirked up in a smile. “Dually noted. Well, why don’t you have a seat, and after I get Pim’s diaper changed, I’ll get the coffee going.” Sitting Pim on the floor, he stood and lifted his arms above his head, giving himself a long morning stretch.

The first button of his jeans was undone, causing them to hang from his hips slightly. When his shirt lifted as he stretched, it revealed the lower part of his muscular abdomen with the slightest dusting of hair. His body hadn’t changed much, it still looked amazing, but the way he moved, the way he carried himself was different, and there was something about it I found absolutely mesmerizing. The more time I spent with Max, the more entranced I became by it.

“I can make the coffee,” I informed him. “If you don’t mind changing her.”

“You sure?” he queried as he lowered his arms and rolled his shoulders a few times. “I know things will be a little difficult until you get used to the crutches and all.”

“I got it.”

As I hobbled toward the kitchen, Max lifted Pim and started making plane sounds as he carried her over his head into the bedroom. I couldn’t help smiling a little as Pim howled with laughter.

Ten minutes later, after muttering a handful of obscenities, I finally managed to get the coffee going. The crutches weren’t the problem, the fancy-ass coffee maker was. Five minutes in I was ready to fling it across the kitchen. While the pot brewed, I went back to the living room and plopped down on the couch, exhausted. Who knew making coffee could be so daunting?

“You okay?” Max asked as he carried Pimberly back in. He’d put her in a clean outfit, but her hair was still wild from sleeping.

“Yeah. That coffee maker is insane,” I complained as I reached my hands up indicating I wanted him to hand Pim to me. “Hi, baby,” I purred as she reached out for me.

“I don’t even know why anyone would want something so complicated,” he grumbled. “It shouldn’t take that long to make coffee.”

“Then why’d you buy it?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured under his breath as he walked away from us.

Pim and I played for a few minutes while Max tinkered in the kitchen. When he yelled, “How do you like your coffee,” I gritted my teeth. Maybe it was stupid to get upset that he didn’t remember, but it seemed too simple not to remember.

“Black,” I replied, curtly.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“I just wouldn’t have taken you for a black coffee drinker,” he shouted to me.

“I’ve always taken it black,” I muttered. After a moment, Max appeared and handed Pim a sippy cup of milk. I slid her to the floor, careful not to let her hit my ankle, before letting him hand me the steaming mug.

I murmured a thank you before taking a sip as Max stood, watching Pim and me with a grim expression on his face. The quiet that hung between us blared. He didn’t know what to say; neither did I—it was awkward. We were married once; we shared our bodies. I’d had this man’s baby, yet making simple conversation felt impossible. How did that happen? Here we were living in a somewhat intimate way, like a family, when we were the furthest from it. I racked my brain for a topic, something I could ask that would evoke conversation yet nothing too heavy, but I came up short. Until . . .

“When we were together,” I began.

Way to keep it light, Waverly, I scolded myself.

“I don’t remember you liking motorcycles.”

“Oh yeah?” he replied, scratching the back of his neck before taking a seat on the loveseat across from me.

“Has it always been an interest, or is it new?”

God, this was so awkward. I didn’t care if Max liked motorcycles or not, but I hated awkward silence. I swear if I were in the FBI or CIA and were captured by the enemy, all they’d have to do is lock me in a room with someone that wouldn’t speak to me, and I’d blab all our secrets just to fill the silence.

“I guess you could say it’s a new interest.”

I paused, waiting to see if he would elaborate more, but he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. Again, I filled the silence. “Do you own one?”