It's a Fugly Life (Fugly #2)(26)

When I pulled up to the wrought-iron gate at almost one in the morning, I wouldn’t dare claim I felt prepared. Hell no. The anxiety had worsened. Knots upon knots upon more knots, only made worse by the memories of this place—the long boat dock with twinkling white lights, the big circular driveway with the fountain in the middle, the giant bed upstairs. Every square inch of the property held so many memories of Max and me—mostly good ones of us falling in love—that it had brought me right back. I felt like I was stepping into the past. One I didn’t mind being in.

I lowered my window and pushed the intercom button. After a few minutes of no response, I pushed it again.

“Who the f*ck is it?” said a groggy gravelly voice.

I almost stopped breathing. Even now, over a stupid intercom, his deep voice did things to me.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “It’s, uh…me. Lily. I’m here to talk.”

A moment passed and then another. Finally, the gate buzzed and rolled back.

Crap. My heart went into overdrive. I could do this. I could say goodbye and move on. Couldn’t I?

Like the first time I entered Maxwell Cole’s home, he did not greet me at the door. I entered the foyer with the vaulted ceiling and large staircase, encountering darkness.

“Max?” I shut the door behind me.

“Up here,” his voice boomed.

His bedroom. Not such a great idea.

“Down here,” I retorted.

“You came to my house in the middle of the night. You want to talk? I’m up here.”

I gripped the staircase railing. You can do this, Lily. His bedroom is only a place. Not like it held a special power over me. Still, every piece of my body shook with anticipation. Fuck. Get a hold of yourself.

“Fine.” I went up the stairs, taking one step at a time. At the top, I turned the corner and stopped in the darkened doorway. “Max?”

“Here.” His voice echoed from inside the room that brought back endless provocative and emotional memories. This was the room where he’d once taken me hard, held me soft, and made me feel so loved and beautiful that I had ripped out my own heart and handed the damned thing right over. Here are the keys to your new heart, Max. Drive it around for as long as you like, just don’t dent it. Oh, and while you’re at it, can you drive into me again, because your cock is amazing. Every sensual, elicit memory came crashing down at once as the delicious scent of Max and his cologne infused my brain.

Suddenly, I was right back where we left off. None of the nightmares, the heartache, the mistakes felt real, but somewhere in the back of my mind, that little voice kept telling me over and over again that they were. And if I chose to ignore reality, we would only end up repeating our mistakes.

Be strong, Lily. Just tell him what you came to say.

“May I turn on the lights?” I asked softly.

“Why are you here?”

All right. Play it that way. “I came to get something off my chest.”

My eyes gradually adjusted to the room, and the bit of light coming through the window caught the shape of Max’s lean physique. He sat at the foot of his bed, shirtless, wearing only boxers or shorts or something. His arms, which I knew were ripped to perfection, were crossed over his exquisitely chiseled chest. I literally began aching for him, the warmth of his skin and the heat of his mouth on mine.

“Why are you here, Lily?” he repeated sternly.

Clearly, I enjoy torturing myself. “When I saw you last, I said it was over, and it is. But it felt wrong to end things like…” I drew in a quick lungful of air, trying to steady my pulse as the tears began streaming down my face. Telling yourself you were going to say goodbye was not the same as doing it.

“Like what, Lily?” he growled.

I couldn’t quite come up with the words. “You mean so much more to me than ending things with yelling. And with lies.” I exhaled. “So I guess I’m here because I needed you to know how much you’ve meant to me. Oh, and I’m not pregnant,” I muttered. “Patricio and I always used…” I cleared my throat, trying to come up with diplomatic words. “We were very safe. In every way. So it’s impossible.” God, I sound like an idiot. My nervousness was annoying, because I hadn’t done anything wrong sleeping with Patricio. Yet, you clearly feel guilty.

“So you flew all the way to Chicago so you and I could have a proper goodbye.”

“Yes. And I’m not pregnant.”

“I got that part.”

I wondered if he felt relieved or indifferent or…well, I guess it didn’t matter.

“We also need to talk about your purchase of my building and the company—the one you didn’t tell me you started.”

“All moot points given why you’re here, I’d say. All of that can be undone since you wish to say goodbye.” The coldness in his tone made me wonder if he was getting ready to put up a fight. Because Maxwell Cole was many things, but he wasn’t a quitter. That man didn’t let anything get in his way when he wanted something.

“I’m serious, Max. We need to let us go.”

The room filled with an uneasy silence.

“All right, then,” he finally said, “if it’s a proper goodbye you’re looking for, strip and lay on the bed.”

“Sorry?”