Until April (Until Her/Him #10)(48)

Chapter 15


April

WITH THE TV on my back deck playing quietly in the background, my feet resting on Maxim’s lap, a half a cup of coffee in my hand, and our breakfast plates stacked on the opposite side of the table, I go through my emails, and there is a lot of them. I didn’t do as much work as I should have while I was away; then again, I didn’t really have much time.

Okay, I did have time, but instead of working, I spent time with Maxim and his family and just lazing about, which was fabulous and a much-needed break.

After reading over the email I just opened, I smile and look at Maxim, and he takes his eyes off the TV and meets my gaze.

“What’s that smile about?” he asks, rubbing the top of my foot.

“You have a closing date for your house.” I spin my laptop around so he can read over the email the seller’s realtor sent earlier this morning. “Next Friday afternoon, the house is all yours.”

“Guess we need to do some furniture shopping,” he says, then tips his head to the side. “Unless you’d be cool with Mom flying out for a few days and you two saving me the torture of having to deal with that.”

“I would not be opposed to that idea,” I tell him with a grin. I learned when Myla and I went shopping in Vegas that not only does she have great taste, but like me, she is a marathon shopper. We spent the entire day out wandering through one shop after another, not buying much but browsing everything, and it was the best time. “What kind of style are you thinking?”

“I don’t know. You can choose,” he says, distracted by his phone when it beeps.

“You want me to decide?” I ask, and he stops typing to give me a look, a look like the one he gave me when he laid out how things are going to go between us. “Right, never mind,” I mutter as my belly dips. The truth is I’m still settling into the fact that we have a plan for our relationship that goes way past just the next few weeks or months.

“I’ll give Mom a call this afternoon.” He sighs, looking over my shoulder, and I turn to see what’s caught his attention and find Binx climbing up the screen on the back porch in an attempt to get to a moth that’s fluttering around on the opposite side.

Dropping my feet to the ground, I start to get up to grab him but stop when the TV catches my attention. No, not the TV, but the guys lounging on a large leather couch talking to the host of one of the local early morning talk shows. The headline under them in big bold letters reads The Fallen’s lead singer Cohen opens up about the one who got away. Swallowing, I start to reach for the remote, hoping to turn it off, but Maxim sees before I’m able to grab it and snatches it up off the table to turn up the volume.

“So have you seen her since you’ve been back in town?” the host—a petite blonde in a cute denim dress—asks, and the cameraman zooms in on Cohen.

“I have.” He rubs his hands together as he rests his elbows on his knees and grins.

“So how did it go?” The camera pans out.

“I walked away without a scratch, so I’d say we’re making progress.” He chuckles, shaking his head, and the guys and host all laugh on cue.

“So she’s still angry you chose your music career over her?”

“Yeah.” He gives a fake somber look. “But I told her I’m not giving her up this time without a fight, and I’m not.” He looks directly into the camera.

“Turn it off,” I demand as anger makes my hands ball into fists at my sides.

“She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved.”

“Turn it off,” I repeat, and a second later, the screen goes black. Breathing heavily, I close my eyes in order to get some control of my temper. That’s when I feel it, heat prickling against my skin and the air around me getting thick with anger that is not my own. I open my eyes and look over at Maxim. He hasn’t moved an inch, but his jaw is twitching, and even with the space between us, I can see that his muscles are bunched.

“I’m going to kill him,” he whispers, turning his head just enough to meet my gaze, and the look in his eyes is so dark that I’m not sure he’s exaggerating.

Oh no.

“He’s not worth it.” I hold up my hands in front of me. “He really isn’t. This is all a publicity stunt. He just wants attention.”

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s a publicity stunt or him laying his heart on the line. That is fucked up.” He tosses his arm out and points at the TV. “He’s not stupid. He’s been in the entertainment business long enough to know that he’s swinging your ass out there every fucking time he mentions you in an interview, even if he’s not using your name.”

He isn’t wrong, so I press my lips together, trying to come up with some other way to calm him down.

“I told you that next time he did something, I would be dealing with him, and after his latest fuck-up, he’s mine.” He drops the remote to the top of the table and takes a step toward me. Normally, I would be all about him getting in my space, but the rage rolling off him has me instinctively taking a step back. “Don’t back away from me.”

“You’re kind of freaking me out,” I say softly, and his brows draw together.

“You’re never in danger when it comes to me.” He reaches out and grasps my hand, then pulls me roughly against his body so I’m firmly against him before he releases it and takes hold of both my hips. Lifting my hands, I place them on this chest, then tip my head back to look into his eyes. “Never.”