Page 57 of Be My Baby

“Max?”

Trey’s voice interrupted his morose musing. Max looked up, suddenly remembering exactly where he was. From the expression on his solicitor’s face, it wasn’t the first time he’d said his name.

“Sorry. What?”

Trey straightened, removed his glasses, and sat back in the chair. He rubbed his eyes. He tapped the top page of the printed documents Max had emailed through. “Okay. It’s a pretty standard policy. You tried to cover any contingency with those extras—and they’re good extras—”

“But?”

Trey smiled gently. “There is abut, but if you’re willing to fight, I’m confident that we can win this. There’s a clause here,” he tapped the page again, “that covers extras. The way it’s wordeddoescover you for damage caused by the reefer trailer. It’s obscure, hidden amongst jargon and waffle on page sixteen, but it’s in black and white. Right there. They obviously either didn’t read it or are hoping you won’t go looking. We can argue they go after the reefer hire company for remuneration.”

Max sat up, not wanting to believe it. “Truly? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Max cringed. “Sorry, Trey.”

Trey laughed. “No. I don’t joke about the law. I can’t guarantee anything, but I’m ninety per cent certain you will win if you move ahead. The threat of a lawsuit and media interest often is enough for them to re-examine their decision. You had business cover. You even had the guy come out to the Cow to make sure you had therightcover. The policy you had was whattheyrecommended. It’s all there in the cover letter.”

Max looked at the solicitor, warmth spreading through the coldness that had descended with the email. “You’re right. I’d forgotten about that.”

He didn’t dare hope. Didn’t dare let himself pin his future on a maybe, as strong a maybe as this seemed to be.

“If that single line wasn’t there, you would’ve had problems. We can start with suing for breach of contract. Do you want me to do so?”

Max nodded vigorously. “Yes!” he rasped.

Trey dipped his chin once and straightened the papers, the one in question proudly on top of the pile. “We’ll sort this out, Max. We have to. I won’t let it go until we have a satisfactory result.”

Max teared up, despite his crushing hold on his emotions. He jerked out of the chair and pulled Trey into a massive hug.

“Thank you. This is… everything.”

Trey patted his shoulder awkwardly. “I know it is. Really, I know.”

Max scraped his hand over his jaw and mouth. He’d once chided Ryan about not getting his act together, and here he was, doing exactly the same thing, pushing people away when he should’ve been holding them closer. Hurting the one he cared about most because of his own crazy, mixed-up nonsense. He’d told Ryan to step up and sort his head out.

It was about time he took his own advice.

Chapter Eighteen

Millie had beengone from her desk when Max had emerged from Trey’s office, a note to Trey saying she’d be back soon. He’d hung around for a few minutes, then left when Trey’s next client had arrived, feeling stupid for all the things he’d done so wrong in such a short time.

He’d messaged her, telling her he needed to talk to her, but she hadn’t replied. That was hours ago.

“This won’t do.”

He was fixing this—now. She deserved to know how much he cared for her, and that he could admit it when he screwed up. Which he had done, big time. If she kicked his sorry ass to the curb, so be it. He would wait until she calmed down, then try again. Ifthatdidn’t work, at least he would’ve tried.

Max strode to the front door and grabbed his car keys from the bowl on the hallstand in Simon’s home. He looked up and out the clear amber glass sidelights as he reached for the doorknob and gasped at the sight of a mud-splashed Millie standing with her hand raised to knock.

She’d come to him. Despite his appalling treatment of her, she’d come tohim.

Anxiety, hope and pure, unmitigated longing flooded him.

He wanted to hold her. Needed to feel her close, to touch her and fold her into his warmth. But he’d done his best to screw up what had once promised to be something so incredibly special with eight sharp, perfectly honed words.

So maybe we should call it a day.

That’s all it had taken to excise the one person who could’ve been his solace from his life.

“You’re a goddamned idiot,” he muttered.

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