Lovers Like Us (Like Us #2)(116)

Maximoff takes a swig of hot tea. “There was no reasoning with the board. Charlie and I came in hot, but their minds were made. No one was even pretending to care.”

“You don’t look that upset about it,” I mention, coffee mug to my mouth.

Maximoff leans back. “Oh, I’m fucking pissed. But I’m not wasting my energy on them. I have to move forward, and besides…it may not be over.”

I sip my coffee. “What does that mean?”

He cracks a knuckle and smiles briefly at a boy who calls his name. Forest-greens back on me, he says, “They were vague, but they said there might be a way for me to be reinstated as CEO. They didn’t say what yet.”

I tap my fingers against my mug, my rings clink, clink. See, I don’t like that they conveniently left out what the hell he has to do. It could be anything, and they could tell him to do anything.

“They’re in a position of power,” I remind him. He has almost no leverage.

Maximoff nods. “I know, but it’s all the hope I have. They said they’ll tell me more in the second quarter.”

At least he’s not completely shut out yet. “That’s good,” I tell him.

He dunks his tea bag a few times. “I keep thinking about how tomorrow I’m going to wake up, and I have zero phone calls to make. No emails to send. No employees, no company, and I think about what else I can do. I can volunteer at the rehab center. I can help other charities, but this thing…” He gestures around, but I know he’s referring to H.M.C. Philanthropies. “…I built this thing and it meant something to me. And now it’s gone for I don’t know how long. One day? Two months? Five years?” A beat passes. “Forever?”

I stop myself from stretching my arm across the table and grabbing his hand. We’re in public. My grip tightens on the mug. “It’s okay to feel lost when you’ve lost something.”

Maximoff rakes a hand through his hair. “Have you ever felt like this?”

I recall my past. “When my life alters outside of my control, I usually feel a sense of nostalgia, but I also like change, so…” I raise my brows at him.

He has trouble containing a smile. “Sounds like a superpower.”

I bring my coffee up. “That you don’t have.”

Maximoff growls out, but he blinks repeatedly to glare. And I’ll be honest. He’s not glaring. He’s not even scowling. He’s smiling, and I’m entrapped, unable to detach—do your motherfucking job, Farrow.

I abruptly break eye contact and survey the diner again. As soon as I look at the window, a few girls squeal, “Oh my God, it’s Farrow!”

“Is Quinn with him?!” another shrieks.

“I will die if Quinn is in there!”

“Maybe he has Quinn’s number?!”

Of course I do.

I keep scrutinizing the diner, the people, but I talk to Maximoff. “I wouldn’t have even bet ten bucks on Quinn being the most famous bodyguard.” But it happened.

Girls are obsessed with him.

“Where do you think you rank?” Maximoff asks.

I meet his serious gaze. “I’m the least famous,” I say honestly. “Because I’m taken, remember?” He declared my relationship status to a FanCon panel, which reached the internet and the world. In result, Tumblr and Twitter lost interest in me. Not that I care.

I’m still the best damned bodyguard in the whole team.

Maximoff rubs his tensed shoulder. “Being the least famous bodyguard is like coming in first place. So you won.”

I stare harder at him. “Okay…but I wouldn’t mind being the most famous out of Omega.”

Maximoff quiets, thinking, and staring off into space.

My pulse starts racing. I can’t read him.

We haven’t talked about going public with our relationship. Something that’d spike my level of fame. But it’s a real, feasible option now. Especially since Omega lasted the tour without a major mistake. We proved we’re too experienced to let notoriety ruin our careers.

And I need to know where Maximoff’s head is at. “Maximoff—”

“It’ll be worse than this. By ten billion times, and it’ll bother you,” he refutes, straightening up. “All the screaming in your ear, the articles on shit you wouldn’t even expect, and the never-ending personal questions.”

He’s convinced himself that no one in their right mind would be fine with the invasiveness, but I’ve been around him and his family enough to understand what the hell I’d be sacrificing and signing up for.

I rest my arm on the table, my fingers close to his elbow. Can’t touch him in public. Can’t comfort him. Can’t love him loudly or proudly.

“That shit won’t bother me,” I say, “and if it does, the tradeoff is worth it.”

Maximoff knows the tradeoff is him. “I’m not worth it.”

“Yeah you are.” My eyes burn. I wake up every morning, and I’m more in love with him than the day before.

And I think, can I do this for another year, two years, three? The answer isn’t just yes. I can picture us together for longer, stronger, and I’ve never seen that far ahead. Yet, I’m now in a position I’ve never been in before.

I’m sitting on the other side. Wondering what his answer is to the same question. Can he see us another year, two years, three? Longer, stronger? I’m a guy with almost no fears, but there is one change I’m terrified to face.