Page 83 of Broken Hearts

“We do, but just imagine how hard it must have been for him to pick up the phone and call me. Admitting he might not be everything you need, asking me to ensure you open up about things you might not want to share with him — that couldn’t have been easy. He must have died inside, and that’s exactly when I knew.”

My heart hammers in my chest, a rapid drumbeat that feels loud in the quiet room. “Knew what?”

Max’s gaze locks onto mine, steady and unflinching. “That he will give you the kind of love that you deserve. He’s more worried about your well-being than his tender feelings. He wants you to be well even if he’s probably now on that soccer field, kicking the ball like a maniac.” His smile is back, but it’s different—smaller, more genuine.

I swallow, the weight of Max’s words settling like a stone in my stomach. I glance away, my gaze catching on the window where the dimming light spills through, casting long shadows across the tiled floor.

“I’m not an expert in love. I’m more of a hand-to-hand combat guy, but I am good at assessing an opponent, very good.” He takes a bite of the apple, the crunch loud in the momentary silence. “And what I can say is, you two are loving each other so much it’s nauseating.”

The laughter that bubbles up from my chest is unexpected, a release of tension that I didn’t realize I was holding. Max is grinning now, his eyes crinkling at the edges, and I can’t help but grin back.

“Nauseating, huh?” I tease, feeling a little more like myself than I have in days.

“Yeah,” he confirms, tossing the apple core into the trash with an effortless flick of his wrist. “But it’s the good kind of nauseating. The kind that might just heal all the wounds, old and new.”

As Max’s words linger in the air, there’s a palpable sense of sincerity in them, a rare glimpse into the depth he often masks with humor. His blunt observation resonates with me, strikes a chord within me. It’s a reminder of the complexities of human emotions, of the bonds formed through shared experiences, both beautiful and harrowing.

I lean against the counter, folding my arms. “It’s weird, isn’t it? How life throws people together in the strangest of ways.”

Max nods, his eyes meeting mine. “Yeah, life’s a crazy journey. But sometimes, those unexpected turns lead to the best destinations.”

“So, what brings you here, really?” I ask, curious about the real reason behind his visit.

He shrugs. A casual gesture that doesn’t quite hide the intent in his eyes. “Cole asked me to check on you, make sure you’re doing okay. He’s worried, you know.”

A mix of exasperation and affection swirls inside me, and I sigh. “He doesn’t need to worry. I’m managing.”

“But that’s it,” Max says, leaning against the doorway, his posture relaxed but his gaze intense. “He doesn’t just want you to manage. He wants you to thrive, to be happy.”

I pause, considering his words. It’s a strange feeling, being cared for so deeply, not just by Cole, but by those around him too. “I appreciate it. And Cole,” I add, a warm feeling spreading through me. “Cole is all I need.”

Max pushes off from the doorway, a grin spreading across his face. “Well, if you ever need a break from Mr. Perfect, you know where to find me.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Thanks, but I think I’m good.”

As Max heads for the door, he turns back, his expression serious for a moment. “Take care. And remember, sometimes the hardest battles lead to the greatest victories.”

With that, he’s gone, leaving me in the quiet of my kitchen, pondering his words. There’s a truth to them, a resonance that echoes long after the door has closed behind him. Feeling a surge of determination spurred by Max’s visit, I decide it's time to fully embrace my life with Cole and the depth of our connection. I approach the dresser and open the black velvet box.

Inside, nestled against the soft lining, lies a stunning platinum ring. Its vintage design and intricate detailing symbolize timeless elegance. The large, brilliant-cut diamond at the center, flanked by vivid green emeralds, sparkles magnificently. The ring is a breathtaking symbol of our relationship's strength and beauty.

My fingers tremble as I slide the ring onto my finger. It feels right, like a piece of a puzzle clicking into place. With the ring now adorning my hand, I pick up my phone and call Jade, asking for the recipe for his favorite meal. I want to make this evening special, a celebration of our commitment and the journey ahead.

As I put the final touches on the dinner, the door opens and he walks in. His gaze immediately goes to my hand, and he freezes, his eyes shimmering with emotion.

“Angel?” His voice is a whisper, filled with hope and disbelief.

A smile appears on my lips as warmth spreads through my chest. “I’m your wife, Cole Westbrook,” I declare, my voice steady and sure.

His reaction is immediate and intense. A cry of joy escapes him as he strides across the room and pulls me into his arms, kissing me with a passion that leaves me breathless. The ring on my finger sparkles in the light, a tangible symbol of our love.

The romantic dinner unfolds in a cozy, intimate atmosphere, the room lit by the soft glow of candles. Cole sits across from me, his eyes lingering on the ring on my finger, a mix of awe and tenderness in his gaze.

“This is incredible, Angel,” he says, his voice filled with emotion. He looks at the spread of food I’ve prepared, his favorite dishes laid out meticulously. “I can’t believe you did all this.”

I smile, feeling a surge of happiness. “I wanted to do something special for you. To show you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

He reaches across the table, taking my hand. “You wearing that ring… it means everything to me. Thank you for trusting me, for giving us this chance.”

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