Page 43 of It's Not Home Without You

“You want to tell me what’s wrong, or you want to wait for Russell?”

“I guess you’ll do,” I said, defeated. If I didn’t get this offof my chest, I might talk myself into keying Abigail’s car, and then Dex would definitely know it was me.

“I hate them, Jana, both of them. At first, I thought what the eff is Max doing with Abigail. Sweet, sweet Max. But after today, I don’t even know him. I don’t think I ever knew him. He said no, just no. He didn’t even give me a good reason whyhe said no. Then that bitch made me so mad I said I was a prostitute.”

“Freya,” Jana shouted, her brows knitted and a hand rubbed her belly.

Her very pregnant belly.

I got a brilliant idea at the sight of my unborn godchild.

“I can’t beat Abigail up because Dex will know it was me and people would think I’m jealous, which I’m not, but you can. Oh my God, Jana, if you slap her, she won’t hit you back because you're pregnant. My little godchild will act as a barrier! I’m a genius.”

It was clear to say I was not thinking rationally. At all.

“Freya!” Jana slapped me.

“Ow, I meant hit Abigail, not me.”

“You’re not making sense. Why are you a prostitute? What happened?” Rubbing my cheek, I sat down while she fed me and listened. Jana calmed me down enough thatI would not be beating Abigail—not like I could afford bail, anyway.

“Thanks for lunch. I have to go the bank. It’s been over an hour. I’m sure Abigail is probably getting an arrest warrant ready.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

It probably wasn’t wiseto be walking around with a check out in the open. Knowing my luck, it would fall out my hand and land in a puddle. I turned to look down the street at Emma’s Coffee shop and contemplated sending her to go do my dirty work, but let’s be honest, I wanted to come. I needed to look Max in the face, even though it hurt.

“Hey, Sandy,” I said to the lady I had met earlier that day.

“Mr. Dunnett is taking a call. I’ll let him know you’re here.” She gave me a small smile and motioned me to take a seat, but I went straight to Max’s office.

Max was in deep conversation. He didn’t notice me come in. I took a moment to stare at his profile. Taking in the way his lips moved and the sharp edges of his jawline. He wore a suit like aPlayboymodel wore lingerie, and the way he kept playing with the silver pen in his hand didfunny thingsto me. I knew things ended a long time ago, but it hadn’t hit home how over we were. I looked down at the check in my hands, and I couldn’t help but think handing it over seemedsofinal.

There was nothing of my old Max anymore. There was nothing of our past love. I didn’t expect it to hurt, but it did. No one wanted to be forgotten. Even when things were over, people wanted to be remembered. The pen in his finger froze when he noticed me putting the check on his desk.

“Let me call you right back. Something came up,” he said to whoever was on the other end of the line. “Freya, wait.”

My traitorous body stopped at his command, but I refused to turn around. “What for? There’s your money. We won’t miss a payment anymore.”

I had barely gotten the door open when I felt him at my back. Every hair on my neck rose at attention. I jumped when he slammed the door shut. My hand was still gripping the doorknob while both his hands were on the door, efficiently caging me in.

Every cell in my body wanted me to lean back and feel his heat, to lean and smell his expensive cologne, and run my hand over his face to get reacquainted with all the lines and creases, especially now thathe had facial hair.

What was it about good facial hair that got a woman’s panties dripping?

Goddammit, Freya, get your raging vagina in check!

“Don’t be stubborn, Freya. Take the check back.” He dangled the check in front of my face, throwing my hard-earned money back at me. One Dunnett had already made me feel like trash. I would not let another do the same.

Was I the only one being affected by our proximity?

My mouth opened, but I couldn’t speak, scared my voice would betray what I was feeling. Max was the epitome of calm and collected. He told me I was just a childhood memory, didn’t he? Nothing could have prepared me for Max’s touch. My knees almost gave out from the contact. His hand glided down my shoulder to my arm where I was holding the doorknob like my life depended on it.

As if having him close and touching me wasn’t bad enough, feeling his nose on the back of my neck and his warm breath fanning my nape was even worse.

“You still smell like apples,” he murmured.

I couldn’t move, scared that if I did, he’d back away. I felt a featherlight kiss on my shoulder, making my body shiver with uncontrollable want. My imagination was good, but not that good. Max had just kissed me for the first time in seven years—I was starved for more. He chuckled darkly, and for the life of me, I wondered why I didn’t move.

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