Until April (Until Her/Him #10)(15)

My nose scrunches. I didn’t think about that, and that is an issue, since going through the process of getting a number and making sure that all my clients are updated is going to be a pain.

“How did they find out who you are? And how in the world did they get your phone number?” Mom asks, picking up my cell phone when Maxim sets it down on the counter.

“Women are more efficient at getting information than the CIA and the FBI combined,” Dad says.

“You’re not wrong,” I agree, knowing that if you give me even a couple of details about someone, I can figure out where they live, their number, where they work, and who they are dating.

“Really?” Mom asks.

“It’s not that hard. Everything nowadays is on social media.” I take a seat at the island in the kitchen.

“Maybe you should call Cohen so he knows what’s going on,” Mom suggests, handing me my phone, and I groan when I see all the new calls and texts.

“She doesn’t need to speak to him,” Maxim says, and Dad gives him an approving look.

“I don’t think that’s your call.” Mom plants her hands on her hips, and I roll my lips together to keep from laughing. My mom is sweet, but she is also a woman who will never let a man steamroll her or her girls, no matter who that man is.

“Babe,” Dad says, and she turns to him.

“Yes?” she snaps at him.

“Her talking to him isn’t going to solve anything. If anything, that might make the situation worse.”

“Maybe not, if he tells everyone to leave her alone,” she argues, and Dad gives her a look that I can tell means Really?

“Fine, no talking to him,” she gives in. “So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know, but I obviously need to change my number.” I toss my phone down, then look at Maxim, trying not to overthink the fact that since he came into my life yesterday, drama has started swirling around my life.

Fuck!





Chapter 5


April

I WAKE UP and know instantly that Maxim is not in bed with me. I sit up and look around my room, finding the bathroom door open and the light off. I check the time on the clock and groan when I see it’s already nine. Normally, I’m up by now, especially on the weekend, when I make the most money.

Grabbing my cell, I look at the blank screen, and all my frustration from yesterday comes back. Last night while my parents were over, I was able to call and get a new phone number, which stopped all the excessive texts and calls. It also made it impossible for my clients to get ahold of me. Using my Notes app, I quickly type up a generic message that includes an apology along with my new phone number, then send it out to almost everyone on my contact list.

Tossing back the white duvet on my bed, I get up and head for the bathroom. I might have gotten a late start, but there is still time for me to get some work done. After doing my makeup, hair, and getting dressed, I carry my heels with me downstairs to the empty kitchen, then look out on the back deck, not seeing Maxim there either.

Not sure where he is, I make myself a cup of coffee and sip it while I turn on my computer and load up my website. Figuring it’s where my number was retrieved, I delete it off the site, then leave only my e-mail for people to contact me. I don’t know how long it’s going to take before this whole thing with Cohen blows over, but I’m hoping that when he leaves to go on tour, the theatrics will go with him.

As I’m closing down my computer and getting ready to call Harris to check in with him, I hear the front door open, and a moment later, feet hit the stairs. When Maxim appears at the top of the steps, my heart does a funny little thump, not only from the sight of him but what he has in his hands.

“Morning, babe.” He walks to where I’m standing at the island, and I tip my head back to him when he gets close. He smiles before he touches his mouth to mine. “Did you sleep all right?” He hands me a beautiful bouquet of colorful flowers, then sets two grocery bags on the counter. “April.”

“You got me flowers.” I look up at him, my throat burning like I’m about to cry. This is seriously getting ridiculous.

“They reminded me of you.” He tips his head to the side. “You okay?” I’m absolutely not okay. No man but my father has ever bought me flowers, and my dad has only gotten me flowers when I’ve accomplished something. “Did something happen?” His eyes scan mine, his expression turning suspicious, and I shake my head.

“I…” I clear my throat. “I don’t have a vase.”

“You don’t have a vase.” His brows dart together.

“No.”

“All right, that’s an easy enough problem to solve.” He opens the cabinet where I keep my cups and pulls down one of my tall Yeti tumblers that has flowers printed on it. “Will this one work?”

“Yeah,” I say softly, and he hands it to me.

“So what’s the plan for the day?” He starts to take groceries out of the shopping bags he brought in while I carefully unwrap the flowers.

“When you came in, I was about to call Harris to confirm all the houses we have scheduled for today are still available.”

“If you’re not up to showing me houses today, I’m good with that,” he says as I grab a pair of scissors out of the drawer.