Page 50 of Fighting Mr. Knight
“This is why I need to supervise your online dating.”
I screw up my face again.
What a start to the day. This is a bad omen. I knew I should have worn my black obsidian crystals, the stone of protection.
***
Max is waiting in the back corner of the Happy Bean Cafe, a cafe full of stressed bankers and executives psyching themselves up to join the Canary Wharf rat race.
“Morning!” I take a seat opposite him. “It’s dark here. You know there are seats out front beside the window?”
He shrugs and runs his hands through his hair. “It’s quieter here. How are you?”
“Can’t complain for a Thursday. You?”
“Yeah, not too bad. Not bad.” He leans forward, putting his hands in the prayer position on the table. “Did you have a good time at the wedding?”
“Great time, you?” I respond, confused by the small talk.
“Fantastic. Really good day.” He keeps smiling at me, and I smile back, unnerved.
Oh, shit.
Of course, it’s obvious what Max wants.
“Max, the status has been cleared,” I say in a rush. “I was doing investigative Facebooking for the project when I accidentally set Jack Knight’s name as my status.”
“Status?” He frowns. “What are you on about?”
Oh. “Never mind.” I titter. Sounds like Nisha’s right. “Just a thing on my Facebook profile.”
“I don’t look at your profile. Anyway, Bonnie, I, uh.” He clears his throat like he has something trapped in it. “I wanted to wait until after the wedding to talk to you.”
“Okay.” I swallow. “Go ahead.”
“You know how important your happiness is to me.” He pauses for a long beat. “We were together for four years. You were, still are, an extremely important part of my life. I still have a lot of affection for you.”
My eyes widen.
Shit.
This is actually happening.
I shift in my seat, drawing in a sharp breath. As much as I had fantasised about Max asking me to get back together—the grovelling, the begging on his knees, the strangled wailing of a tormented man—I’m not prepared.
I didn’t think he’d bloody well do it in a cafe beside the office.
“Go on,” I say breathlessly.
“I want you to find someone who makes you happy, like I have.”
Like he has.
Like he has what?
Three subtle words slipped in at the end.
The three simple words that grow legs and kick me hard in the belly.
