Landlord Wars(49)

He studied my face. “That had to have been hard.”

“It was,” I said, thinking back. “It was brutal for me and Elise, but it mentally changed my mom. She never got over my dad. Honestly, neither have Elise and I, but my mom has been the most altered. You’ve seen our family home. You have some sense of what’s going on there.”

“The hoarding,” he said, and my back stiffened.

Max spoke of hoarding as though it were no big deal and offered every sign of wanting to still date me, knowing how bad things were.

“Is it too sensitive a subject to ask how he passed?” Max said.

“It’s not too sensitive, it’s just kind of tragic. My mom had been asking my dad for years to paint the house. He’d just finished getting it done in her favorite color, and the workers left behind some paint cans. My dad loved our neighborhood because it was an easy walk to the restaurants and shops. He’d been on his way to the hardware store down the street to recycle the cans and was hit by a drunk driver in the middle of the day.”

The same shaky feeling overcame me every time I told the story. I’d never get over how my dad was there one day and the next day gone.

I looked up and tried to smile. “The police said he died on impact, so that was one blessing.”

I’d debated as a kid if it was better that my father hadn’t suffered, or if I would have liked to say goodbye. Selfishly, I’d wanted one last moment with my father, but in the end, I was grateful he hadn’t been in pain.

Max stood and walked around the island. A second later, I was engulfed in a warm, strong embrace. “I’m so sorry, Sophia.”

I pressed my cheek into his chest, taking in the clean scent of him. Usually, Elise and I were comforting our mother, rather than the other way around. But in this moment, I was being comforted and cared for. In this moment, the weight of the world was lighter.

I could get used to it. Too used to it. Max wanted to date, but how long would it last? That was something to worry about later.

“My mom never forgave herself for what happened to my dad. She says that if she hadn’t asked him to get the house painted, he would still be alive. She’s been stuck in what-ifs ever since and unable to get rid of anything in our house out of fear it will shift the wind in some tragic direction—that whole butterfly effect. There’s no logic to it, but that’s the way her mind works now.”

He looked down, his arms still holding me tight. “Do you believe that too?”

I shook my head and smiled sadly. “I don’t believe my mom controlled what happened. If not the paint store, my dad would have been running some other errand. It could have happened at any time.”

Max pulled away, and I pressed my lips together, holding back the urge to cling to him. I’d already grown used to his arms around me, and the absence was unsettling. “I think this sad story calls for more chocolate, don’t you?”

Maybe my dad had sent Max to me, because a man who supplied excellent chocolate would be on my “ideal partner” list. “Is there a time when chocolate isn’t called for?”

“A fair point,” he said and reached for one of the golden boxes. He plucked out the truffle and ate it before I could blink.

I was a champ at wasting money on chocolate, but even I was having a hard time with this level of extravagance. “Don’t you have anything else?”

“Unfortunately, no. There’s a reason I wander into your apartment.” His smile was mischievous.

“I thought it was to see me,” I said, crossing my arms in mock anger.

“You and your chocolate.”

That wasn’t a satisfactory answer. “But which do you prefer?”

“Hmm,” he said as though he needed to ponder it. “Shall we do a taste test?”

I gave him a skeptical look. This man was crafty with his kisses and expensive chocolate—not that I minded his tactics. “What kind of taste test?”

He pushed a lock of hair over my shoulder and stared at my lips, giving me a very good idea of what he had in mind. “I’m thinking of comparing chocolate-to-mouth versus mouth-to-mouth.”

I shook my head. “Max Burrows, is this another excuse to use your kissing skills on me?”

“Is it working?”

“Yes,” I said indignantly, when, in fact, I was eating it up. Both the chocolate and his kisses.

He opened the last box, pulled out the truffle, and placed it in my hand. “We’re doing a public service, remember? These would go in the trash and become landfill without our hard work.”

I laughed. “These wouldn’t last two seconds in your home. I’m surprised you held out as long as you did.”

He gave me a pitiable look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I ate the chocolate and gave him a peck. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

He studied my lips. “It looks like you’ve got chocolate on you.” He leaned down and kissed me, deepening the kiss while at the same time picking me up.

I let out a squeak of surprise as he carried me to the living room, where the kissing continued on the couch with me sitting on his lap, my legs hanging off one side.

I eased back. “You’re a lot bigger from this vantage point.” His thighs felt massive beneath my rear, his chest twice as wide as my own.