He shrugged his dark brows as if to say: “Not my problem. Next time check your texts.” But instead he said, “Am I the only person who found it odd that the paparazzi happened to be in the neighborhood to film us?”
“You’re not implying that Patricio had something to do with it? Because he had no clue you were going to be there.”
Max shrugged. “Perhaps he was hoping they’d be there to capture your big yes to his marriage proposal.”
I scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. He wouldn’t do that.” Would he?
“The man will do anything to advance his career, and getting free publicity is no exception.”
“If that were true, then Patricio and I would’ve had our pictures popping up in the tabloids every time we went…” My voice faded as I realized there had been a few occasions where we were surprised by photographers. The last time was at a new sushi restaurant he’d taken me to near Malibu.
I’m sure those were coincidences. Weren’t they? Wait…
“You know what? I don’t have time for this. I have a store to open.” I turned away, but Max grabbed my arm again.
“Lily,” he growled, “you didn’t give me an answer about my business proposal.”
“No. I don’t want to go into business with you. There. You have your answer.”
“Then you need more time to think it over, just like you need to reconsider my marriage proposal.”
“What are you doing, Max?”
He didn’t answer my question. Instead he said, “I stayed up all night thinking about how that kiss last night proved you don’t love him. Otherwise you would’ve resisted. So tell me why you insist on marrying him, Lily. And then I’ll leave if you want. You’ll never see me again.”
I took a breath. “It’s exactly what I told you last night. We’re bad for each other.”
“I happen to disagree. You helped me when no one else could. And I helped you see your true potential. We’re not simply good for each other, we’re perfect. And we need each other.”
“What you need is a woman who will never doubt you and be there to stroke your massive ego.”
“No. You’re wrong again. I need someone who tells it like it is. You.”
I placed my hands on my waist and shook my head at my running shoes. He was making this so hard. “I’m fucked up, Max. And will always doubt you love me because despite my improved looks, I still feel like that girl who stood in your office eight months ago, asking for a job, but all you saw was her face—a face that revolted you.”
Max’s jaw tightened. My words clearly angered him.
I went on, “And can you honestly tell me you won’t relapse? Or that if we did get married that you wouldn’t repeat your mother’s mistakes? What if we had kids? Did you think about that? Because chances are, any child of mine will not come out looking like a beauty queen.” It was a harsh thing to say. I knew that. Just like I knew any child of mine would be absolutely beautiful to me and insanely loved. But Max needed to understand that our future didn’t look promising. “Max, can you honestly say you wouldn’t force our child to have a nose job at thirteen or punish it for being imperfect.” It was what his mother had done to him.
He shook his head from side to side. “I would never…” But I heard doubt in his voice. Or maybe it was fear.
“I can’t risk it,” I said. “I can’t risk loving you and then having a family simply to see if maybe, maybe you’ll love your son or daughter like my parents loved me.” And I certainly couldn’t risk opening my heart to him again. The pain of our breakup still made me feel sick when I thought about it.
Max looked down at the sand. He understood my point. He could say that he loved me all day long, but he could not guarantee that he’d always be there for me and our children like we deserved. Simply put, the depths of his fuckedupness were unknown.
I waited for him to respond, but he looked away. His brow beaded with fresh sweat.
Christ. See, I’m right. Whatever images or thoughts were going through his head freaked him the hell out. Maybe he’d imagined holding an ugly baby.
His head abruptly snapped up. “No. I’m not letting you throw us away based on what-ifs. I do know, Lily. I know who I am. I know the kind of man I am. And I know that I would never abandon you. I’d stick by my children, too, regardless of my struggles.”
And there it was. The point.
I grabbed his arm and squeezed gently. “Listen to yourself. Having a life with me shouldn’t be a struggle. It shouldn’t be an act of loyalty or duty or a form of torture. It should be the one thing that makes you hop out of bed in the morning with a giant smile. I can’t give you that. And I could never be happy knowing that maybe on the inside, you don’t love me or them like they deserve.” It was so surreal having a conversation about children who didn’t exist yet. Especially, because in my heart, I felt like I was letting real people go, because I was letting him go.