“This Saturday?” My brows furrow curiously as Max nods. “But I thought…”
“Her shoot wrapped early, and she’s coming home to surprise Everly. It’s all very hush hush.” His eyes glance at the floor, refusing to connect with mine as those stress lines between his brows deepen.
I chew my lip nervously. “So what does this mean for my job?”
His jaw muscle tics as his indigo eyes lift to me. There’s pain around the edges of them that I want to reach out and touch his brows to smooth away. “I’m afraid we won’t need you anymore.”
Ouch.
I should have seen that coming.
He clears his throat and adds, “Jess wants to spend the rest of the summer with Everly before she starts school in a few weeks.”
A painful knot forms in my throat at the realization that this means I only have a few days left with Everly. I’m not ready to be done with her. I’m not ready to be done with doing nothing. I’m not ready to leave the Fletchpad, my tiny house, this family. This is all happening too fast.
“I’ll pay you through the end of the summer as originally agreed upon,” Max states crisply, his face flinching slightly before he steels it behind his hardened features.
I recoil at the humiliation of that notion. Suddenly, I’ve gone from Cinderella to Pretty Woman, and I’m pretty sure Julia Roberts left that money on the table. I glance down at my hands, fiddling with the hem of my shirt. “You don’t have to pay me.”
“That’s non-negotiable,” Max tuts, turning to look out the window toward the backyard. “And I realize this is coming up sooner than anticipated, so you are welcome to stay in the tiny house until your next residence opens up.”
Residence sounds like a swear word coming from him right now.
I fill my lungs with as much air as possible. This entire exchange is horrifying, and I sink under the weight of it. I feel like a child or worse, an employee. Not the woman who shared a bed with him for several weeks and fell in love with his daughter.
Fell in love with him.
That painful realization causes tears to spring into my eyes, so I quickly look away, pressing the back of my hand to my nose to try to stave off the emotions. My voice is garbled when I respond, “I won’t need to stay.”
“Really, Cassandra, it will be fine.”
“No, it won’t.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you can barely look me in the eyes right now.” I laugh, but it’s pained as the ache in my throat threatens to tear me apart. This is Max’s opportunity to cut ties with me. He’s low-key firing me, and the cold, detached way he’s delivering this news proves that. I’ve ruined any chance we had at something real. A man like Max isn’t someone who forgives easily. Look how long it took for him to get over his ex. All his rules about no sleepovers and no relationships. God, I’m such a fool.
I lick my lips and add, “It’s clear that you don’t want me here a second longer than I have to be, so I will move out this weekend.”
Max stands to his full height, his eyes twitching at my remark. “We can be professional about this.”
“Professional,” I croak, feeling my chin tremble at another seemingly pedestrian word that feels like a curse from his lips. “Maybe you can be professional.” I lift my hands up, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. “But I’m willy-nilly, Max, so you never know what to expect from me.”
His eyes tighten. “Need I remind you that this entire situation we’re in the middle of is your choice?”
“Is it?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper. “It didn’t feel like a choice. It felt like a forgone conclusion,” I reply honestly.
Kate’s words about my strength as a survivor play on repeat in my mind. I was strong enough to let Max go, but I’m clearly not strong enough to keep him.
Max shakes his head and moves toward me. “I’m not doing this.”
His arm brushes mine as he walks past, and even though I’m sure I’ll regret it, I reach out and grab his hand.
He freezes, facing away from me for a moment that feels like an eternity as an electric current flows between our hands, shooting up my arm like a shock. I hear his breath hitch and his jaw grow taut before he turns around to look at my hand clasping his, like it’s some sort of puzzle he can’t quite work out.
His eyes lift to mine, scoring over my face like a hot branding iron, showing me every emotion coursing through his veins. Pain, frustration, disappointment, confusion, desire…