Page 37 of Cream and Punishment
“For better or worse,” I mumbled.
I hadn’t had an episode like this in months. Over a year, actually. Since Besserman’s article had come out. That had been my second episode ever, the first being ten years ago when Dad had called with the news about my brother’s overdose.
“Yeah, the situation isn’t ideal,” Max admitted, running a hand through his hair until it stuck up at odd angles. His brow furrowed, and he softened his voice. “Are you claustrophobic?”
I huffed and sank to the floor to give my ankle and leg a break. If the stains on the dirty tiles transferred, at least they’d get on the demon donkey instead of me. “No. That would give me something actually worth panicking over.”
Not worrying about my job in the middle of an entirely different crisis. How pathetic was that?
“If it upset you enough to trigger a panic attack, I’d say whatever it is must be important, too.”
I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Just work stuff. Nothing major.”
Max stared at me for a few beats before sinking to the ground next to me and resting his forearms across his bent knees. Close enough his shoulder brushed the suit’s fur when I inhaled his spicy scent, now laced with the masculine tang of sweat. “You’re a terrible liar, Dekker.”
“Itwaswork stuff,” I protested.
“I believe you,” he chuckled, not sounding like he believed me in the slightest. “But I don’t believe it was‘nothing major.’”
I shrugged again. “I was just wondering how I’d run the bakery with my ankle like this tomorrow, that’s all. But I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry about it.”
He frowned so deeply his dimples appeared. “Maybe I can help?”
I shook my head until the base of my skull throbbed. “No. Absolutely not. You’ve helped enough already. More than enough.”
Hurt flashed across his features before disappearing behind his mask of concern.
I cringed. “That came out wrong. I’m really grateful for your help. Honest. You’ve been way too kind to me and I just—”
I scrunched my eyes shut as my throat constricted with emotion. I’d been pushing through my discomfort for too long, and now everything converged at once. The jitteriness from my almost-panic attack. Lack of sleep. My aching muscles and swollen ankle. The guilt. And the stress. So. Much. Stress. The bone-deep exhaustion that came from constant hypervigilance at home, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Max to get the vengeance he deserved. Reading into every action and word, warring with my instincts and the advice from my friends about his true intentions.
I couldn’t take it anymore. Not knowing was going to drive me insane long before I got my just desserts.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I whimpered, tears stinging my eyes. “Don’t you hate me for what I did to you?”
My question hung in the air, a guillotine suspended above my head, ready to be loosed. All he had to do was say the word. Confirm my fears or set me free.
His eyebrows rose and his arms went slack in his lap. “Hateyou? Why on earth would I hate you? You didn’t do anything to me, Dekker.”
I let my head fall back to rest against the elevator wall and ticked off the list of offenses on my fingers. “In less than two weeks, I managed to rope you into helping me move, saving me from a nonexistent snake, walking me to work, walking me to pick up this stupid suit, carrying me after I hurt my ankle,andyou’re stuck in an elevator now because of me.” I stopped counting and held my palms upward in a helpless gesture. “And let’s not forget the worst of all—I broke you and your fiancée up. I ruined your chance at happiness, and now I’mstillruining your life. I’m a walking disaster.” I glanced at my foot and reconsidered. “Ahobblingdisaster.”
He let my outburst settle between us, fill up the meager square footage and sink into every pore. His lips pressed into a line, a muscle in his jaw flickering, before finally breaking the silence with his gentle baritone. “None of those things were your fault, Dekker. Not a single one. You haven’t forced me to do anything.Ichose each of those.”
“Except ending your engagement,” I murmured.
He smiled. A genuine Max smile that seemed completely out of place, considering the misery I’d brought upon him. “True, Vicky was the one who broke things off. And it sucked. It hurt for a while, and I didn’t want to accept the valid concerns she’d brought up.”
My heart sank even lower, until it threatened to replace my stomach. He’d gone through that because of me. Because I didn’t hide the stars in my eyes or keep my distance when I should have.
He sobered and playfully bumped his shoulder against mine. “But our relationship had problems long before the cake tasting. Seeing you and I interact was… well…” He broke off, his jaw working back and forth as he chose his words. “It made Vicky realize some things she’d been in denial about. Things I wasstillin denial about.”
I hugged my arms across my middle. “Still sounds a lot like I’m the one who broke you two up.”
He smiled and shook his head. “We weren’t a good match, Dekker. We were each other’s comfortable option, the one that made sense on paper because we checked each other’s boxes, and we liked each other enough that we thought it was love.” He took a deep breath and held it before letting it out through pursed lips. “If anything, I’d say the break-up was a blessing in disguise. I realized things about myself that I needed to learn, and Vicky and I were spared from marrying people we didn’treallylove.”
I blinked hard, reluctant to believe him. Not because I doubted his honesty, but because it seemed too good to be true. My friends had been right all along. Huh.
I squinted at him. “So you’re not mad at me? You don’t despise me for my role in all of that? Because you looked like you thought I was the scum of the earth when I passed you in the parking lot on the way out.”
