To Have It All(72)

“Is that how you feel?”

He was quiet for a moment as if he were thinking. “If I stayed as Max, I’d be healthy. I’d have a home and money.”

“And,” I added reluctantly, “you’d have me.”

When he fell silent for a moment, I wondered if I’d upset him with my words. “It would be hard to have you, or any of it for that matter,” he finally managed.

My brows furrowed in confusion as I looked up at him. Hard to have me? What the hell did that mean? “Why?”

“Maybe it’s my pride . . . I don’t know. His money isn’t my money. Just assuming his identity feels wrong, and on some level, I would know you loved me, Liam, but then the other part of me would know every time I touched you, every time you looked at me . . . all you would feel and see is Max.”

“You know there’s more to it than that,” I argued, pulling away from him, my frustration acting as a wedge between us. What was he saying? That if he remained in Max’s body he couldn’t be with me? My face flamed with anger. “So if you stay as Max, we’re over? Is that it?”

Grabbing me, he turned me to face him, the muscles in his jaw ticking. “Stop that,” he demanded.

“Stop what?” I snapped as I struggled out of his stronghold, but it was to no avail. He held me in place firmly.

“Stop running away with conclusions. It isn’t always the worst assumption you can come to Waverly. It’s like you said, it’s more complicated than that.”

“So if you remain as Max, you can’t be with me because I’d see his face and think of him?” I rambled on, ignoring his last statement.

With a light jerk, an attempt to jerk me to my senses, he gritted, “Am I wrong, Waverly?” Can you honestly say you wouldn’t look at me as Max Porter every day and not feel some resentment?”

I knew what he was saying—he was scared that, subconsciously, I’d hold Max’s sins against him. If I was being honest, loving Liam but seeing Max, would take some getting used to. Max had hurt me in a way that would forever be a part of me, the pain was engraved in my bones. There was no doubt it would be a challenge to look at Liam as Max and only see Liam, but in the world of impossibilities, if two men could switch bodies, I dared say I could love Liam and learn not to feel resentment when all I saw was Max’s face.

Taking his hand, I placed it on my chest, over my heart, and closed my eyes. “You told me to look in my heart,” I reminded him. “You said if I looked there, I would see you. You were right; that’s what I see. A beautiful man with brown eyes and a grin that would make any woman’s insides dance.” Just the thought of the man from the photos made me smile. “A beautiful man with a ruggedness to him; a down-to-earth feel.”

My mind skated over the colorful tattoos that covered his body, wondering what it would feel like to trace my finger over each one. “I see you, Liam,” I murmured as I pressed his hand harder against my chest. “Right here. More than that . . . I feel you.”

I didn’t open my eyes when I felt him brush his lips against mine before wrapping his arms around me, embracing me, holding me like his life depended on it. I hadn’t realized how badly he’d needed to hear it; hear he had my heart no matter what. The kiss sealed that promise; my promise to him that I would love him whether he lived on as Max or in his own body. When he broke the kiss, he pressed his mouth to my forehead and took a deep breath.

It had been a beautiful moment; deep and meaningful.

Even with my reassurances, though, there was still one daunting and unimaginable thought.

What if they did switch back when they took Liam’s body off life support?

What if Liam died?



Our walk ended much how it had begun: quiet. There were doubts; there were worries, but amidst the unknown, there was also comfort. No matter the outcome . . . we were a team. Good or bad we would take it on together. It was a bittersweet kind of peace. Liam had finally been able to be himself with me, and I was finally able to not feel like I was crazy trying to understand why Max wasn’t acting like Max.

Why couldn’t that have been the only hurdle?

We held hands as we walked back to the bike, Liam grazing the back of my hand with his thumb. He looked lost, and all I wanted at that moment was to ease him—to take his mind off everything.

The parking lot was practically empty except for a few cars parked in spaces sporadically here and there. As he busied himself putting on his helmet, I put my hands on my hips and smirked.

He smirked back. “That look has trouble written all over it.”

“Teach me.”

He lifted his brows. “Teach you what?”

“To drive the bike.”

He looked down as the corners of his mouth curved up. For a moment, I thought he was going to say no; give me one of those sexist and insulting reasons like women can’t drive bikes. I was already preparing the verbal assault I was going to give him before he nodded once and said, “As you wish.”

I tilted my head and grinned. “Was that a Princess Bride quote?”

He chuckled, embarrassed. “Noooo,” he answered, avoiding eye contact with me.

Laughing, I teased, “What? The big bad biker guy is embarrassed he quoted the Princess Bride?”

One side of his mouth quirked up as he turned his head, still avoiding eye contact with me. “I do have a reputation to uphold here,” he jested.