Page 73 of It's Not Home Without You

I laughed. Only Freya would think it’s hot that I hit my brother. After we hung up, I walked around my apartment, thinking about what an idiot I’d been. I wanted to move Freya in with me to a place another woman decorated. It might have been my money, but it was all handpicked by Abigail. My home was all to her liking.

Grabbing my suitcase, I packed my clothes and left for Lee’s bed-and-breakfast. I needed to put my place on the market.

I had a woman to win back.

Freya gotout of the hospital within three days. It was hell to drop her off at her grandfather’s and to have to come back to my rental alone. I had cracked and asked Sandy for ideas on an alternative to roses, so I went on fucking Etsy.

Every morning I was the first at the coffee shop, and I left Freya a note, so she’d know she was on my mind. Then at night, I would take food for her and her grandfather. Freya and I talked until she passed out in my arms. Even though their couch was uncomfortable as shit, I would sit there and relish the way she felt in my arms. I talked to Eugene about my game plan, and he told me it was about fucking time. I figured that was as much of a blessing as I would get from the old man. Freya had asked my opinion on expanding Emma’s Coffee into Emma’s Diner. I thought itwas an excellent idea; I even offered to invest. She told me it wasn’t necessary; she had more than enough. I hated the way she saved up money, but I couldn’t say shit; it was hypocritical on my part.

Freya had fallen asleep in my arms. I was playing with her hair and thinking about having brunch with my mother tomorrow. I was tired of ignoring her calls.

“You’re leaving,” a sleepy Freya whispered.

I bent down to kiss her forehead. “Sweet dreams.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” I said back. “Oh, and Freya, I’m done pretending. Come tomorrow, you’re mine.”

“I’ve always been yours,” she mumbled before falling back asleep. I stood there watching her. She was mine. It locked in place, and I was able to leave her for one more night.

One last night.

My mother arrived early for our brunch at Franny’s. Frank already had my mother’s fruit bowl and an omelet ready by the time she came in. My sister and I looked like our mother; she was tall and graceful, with red hair and green eyes. She was kind, and I couldn’t help but think my father didn’t deserve her, but that might be my anger.

“Hello, Mother. You look well.”

“So do you, Max.” She cupped my cheek and smiled at me. There wasn’t any anger in her green eyes, and it relieved me.

“You want to tell me why you’ve been ignoring me?” she scolded me.

“I haven’t been ignoring you. I’ve just been busy.”

“Don’t give me that crap, Maximilian. I have been calling day in and day out. Your sister has been trying to make amends with you.”

“Can we not talk about her?” I bit out. I was still fucking pissed at Juliet. I didn’t care what her excuse was; she should have known better.My mother made a face but didn’t comment. She already knew about Freya, and I swore if she said a word I didn’t like, I was out and I was done with my family.

“You look happy, happier than I’ve seen you in ages. You no longer have the haunted look in your eyes.” She gave me a small smile.

“She makes me happy, Mother.”

“She always did.”

“Did you know what Dad did?” I asked. Juliet had said my mother didn’t know, but I had to know for sure.

“No, I had no idea. I know you don’t want to hear this, son, but your father thought he was doing the right thing.”

“If you want to be in my life, you have toaccept Freya. I want you to like her.”

“I never disliked her. I may have thought both of you were too young back then, but you’re both adults now. She’s a beauty, even more than she was back then. I’m sure itwill be easy to love the woman who has my son’s heart.”

It finally felt like all the pieces were coming together. My mother didn’t push me to talk to my father or Juliet. She knew if she did, she would be out of my life.

As long as I had Freya, I would not be alone.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

When I walkedinto the coffee shop, the first thing I did was look at the blackboard, and it didn’t fail to make me smile. Every single day it was something different, and every day I looked forward to reading what Max wrote for me. It was foreplay for my soul. The first quote was:You and I will always be unfinished business. When I read the words, my stomach had dropped with anticipation at what those words implied. It would always be Max and Freya.

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