Page 108 of Dr. Bad Boy

“I’m not leaving,” I say softly.

He squeezes me a little tighter and brushes a kiss across my ear. “Me either.”

My stomach growls and I press my hand against my belly to silence it. I just want the warmth of Max’s arms right now. But he loosens his hold on me and I let out a small whine.

“I’ll be back in a minute. Just going to grab us something to eat.” He covers me with a throw and I close my eyes for just a minute while he heads off to the kitchen.

The next thing I know, he’s stroking my face. “Time to eat.”

I open my eyes to Max’s smile. I love that smile. The one I’m sure is just for me.

He’s made sandwiches and there are two tall glasses of orange juice on the coffee table. The throw slides onto the sofa as I sit up to make room for Max to join me.

By some unspoken mutual agreement, our meal is a time-out from all the heavy, serious stuff. We keep the conversation light. Mostly talking about work.

Once we’re done, we clear the table and take the dishes to the kitchen and load them into the dishwasher.

It’s all very domestic. And I’m a little surprised at how natural and comfortable it feels, especially after how painful and bittersweet it felt on Wednesday night before I ran away.

I load the last plate into the dishwasher and close the door and Max crowds me from behind and wraps his arms around me. “Can we go to bed? It’s been an emotional evening and we’re both tired.”

I nod and he leads me by the hand to his bedroom where we both undress quickly and slide into bed.

He pulls me close and as I lay in the circle of his arms, I realise there is so much more to us than sex. More to us than a baby. I’m not ready to say what’s in my heart yet. But I can give him a hint. I cup his cheek and press my forehead against his other temple. "You know what?"

"What?"

I kiss his cheek. “Gracie was right.”

40

Max

Violet staysat my place until Sunday morning.

We don’t have sex again.

Instead, we move around each other like we’re both made of glass. I want to grab her and tell her I’m fucking Atlas and I can carry the world on my shoulders, so I can God damn carry her fears, too, but I don’t think she needs a reminder that I’m strong right now. She needs to see that I’m human, as much as that pains me.

She needs to take care of me, needs to know that I need her, and I do, so I hold my tongue. And she doesn’t leave, so it’s worth it.

When she does finally go, with a gentle kiss and a promise to see me before she leaves for Toronto for Christmas, I head out as well. I’ve got just enough time to make it to my hockey game, and right now, chasing a puck down the ice sounds like exactly the kind of escape I need to sort out my thoughts.

The game is fast and furious, my favourite speed.

Maybe a little too furious, though, because when we finish, Lachlan thumps me hard on the shoulder. “You got a reason for checking me like that?”

I shrug. It had been a clean hit. “Can’t take the heat…”

“I can take it.” He laughs. “But seriously, what’s gotten into you?”

I can’t tell him. Fuck, I should tell Gavin first. Although really, I need to talk to Violet again and find out what she wants to do. I imagine she’ll want us to keep it strictly quiet until she’s past the first trimester and she’s decided to tell her work. I decide to leave it vague. “Relationship stuff. Nothing bad.”

He grunts and leaves it at that, but in the change room, he looks over at me again. “You want to hit the weight room? You got anywhere to be?”

I shake my head. “Nowhere to be. And sure, that sounds good.”

Thirty minutes later and two burning arms later, I’m regretting that statement. Lachlan’s weight routine is…intense. “You do this often?” I say, putting down the forty-five pound barbells after the fifth and blessedly-final set of reps on the biceps curls. “You’re a crazy man.”

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