“It’s for my wife,” he clarified, likely realizing how nosy he sounded.
“I, uh…I’m sorry to tell you that Mr. Cole and I parted ways.”
“Oh. Can I see that license again?”
What the hell? Did he just imply that the speeding ticket would be issued because he didn’t like my answer?
Yep. I think he did.
“But…I’m going to see him tomorrow.” I shrugged coyly. “So you never know what might happen.”
The officer thumped his hand on the top of my car and smiled. “You have a good night and drive safely, Miss Snow.” He walked off, muttering, “Can’t wait to tell her. Lucky night.”
Alrighty. That was some weird shit. And honestly, I’d had no clue there were people out there fanning over my and Max’s story. How bizarre.
A movie. Pfft!
I hit the freeway again, and by the time I pulled up to Danny and Calvin’s apartment building, it was well past midnight. I found a spot on the quiet street, turned off the engine, and finally looked at my phone.
Three messages were from my mother panicking about the lights in the store. “Honey? Can you remind me where the switch is? I don’t remember.” She’d been at home cooking dinner for my father when she’d left that gem. “Honey, I haven’t heard back from you yet. Are you alright?” The next few messages were funnier than the last, basically my mother admitting that she could handle finding light switches in the morning, but that I shouldn’t worry. She had “everything under control.”
The next few messages were from my brother begging me to end his misery because my mother had called him twenty times in a panic about running the shop by herself for a few days—“She thinks she’s babysitting nukes! Fucking shit, Lily. Kill me now.”
Then, finally, at the bottom of the list, I saw a message from him. Max. I pressed play, and his voice sounded deep and cold, the heartache palpable.
“Lily, we need to talk.” He stopped speaking, but I could hear his soft breath. “Call me,” he said, almost whispering, like a man praying for his suffering to end.
Dammit. I have to end this. I started the engine up again and pulled out onto the street. I couldn’t let this—his suffering and mine—go on another moment. I would simply need to call Danny along the way and tell her to keep the light on for me. It was going to be a late night.
It took thirty-five minutes to drive to Max’s two-story mansion overlooking Lake Michigan. The home, which reminded me a bit of a modern-day castle with its gray brick and stucco exterior, soaring entryway, and high pitched roof, was as impressive in size and presence as it was intimidating. Yeah, just like its owner.
When I pulled up to the wrought-iron gate at almost one in the morning, I wouldn’t dare claim I felt prepared. Hell no. The anxiety had worsened. Knots upon knots upon more knots, only made worse by the memories of this place—the long boat dock with twinkling white lights, the big circular driveway with the fountain in the middle, the giant bed upstairs. Every square inch of the property held so many memories of Max and me—mostly good ones of us falling in love—that it had brought me right back. I felt like I was stepping into the past. One I didn’t mind being in.
I lowered my window and pushed the intercom button. After a few minutes of no response, I pushed it again.
“Who the fuck is it?” said a groggy gravelly voice.
I almost stopped breathing. Even now, over a stupid intercom, his deep voice did things to me.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “It’s, uh…me. Lily. I’m here to talk.”
A moment passed and then another. Finally, the gate buzzed and rolled back.
Crap. My heart went into overdrive. I could do this. I could say goodbye and move on. Couldn’t I?
Like the first time I entered Maxwell Cole’s home, he did not greet me at the door. I entered the foyer with the vaulted ceiling and large staircase, encountering darkness.
“Max?” I shut the door behind me.
“Up here,” his voice boomed.
His bedroom. Not such a great idea.
“Down here,” I retorted.
“You came to my house in the middle of the night. You want to talk? I’m up here.”
I gripped the staircase railing. You can do this, Lily. His bedroom is only a place. Not like it held a special power over me. Still, every piece of my body shook with anticipation. Fuck. Get a hold of yourself.