“What’s that?” I couldn’t help but smile. Not seeing him for so long, I’d forgotten the pull. Forgotten how every time I was around him, I wanted to touch him. And now that I was here I wanted to talk to him, apologize, ask him if it was too late to go back to how things had been between us.
“Champagne,” he said with a grin. He didn’t seem mad, but I’d seen him at the lunch with my father; he was great at making people feel comfortable. Was he just putting on an act?
“Did someone drop you on your head?” Scarlett asked. “I’m always asking for a glass of champagne.”
Max shrugged. “What can I say, I’m not wasting champagne on my sister.” He shot me a glance as he pulled out three glasses and set them on the counter.
Was he trying to impress me? I rolled my lips together, trying to hold back a grin at just the thought he might be.
“It’s so nice of you to come out all the way from the city,” Violet said, leaving the sentence a little unfinished. Did I look ridiculous coming all this way for a fourteen-year-old girl I barely knew? Did she know that although I genuinely wanted to make tonight special for Amanda, I wanted to see Max? I needed to apologize.
I glanced around, wanting to tell Max I’d come for him as much as I had for his daughter. “Amanda’s a lovely girl and . . .” I shrugged, unable to get the words out quite yet.
“Well, I know that my brother is pleased you came.”
My heart squeezed. Was Max pleased I was here? Because of Amanda or because he wanted to see me?
Max handed me a glass and as I took it from him our fingers brushed. I glanced up at him and he grinned. Should I pull him to one side and apologize now?
“Violet, Harper,” Amanda called from upstairs. “I need my glam squad. I’m out of the shower.”
I giggled. “Glam squad? She’s fourteen, right?”
Max rolled his eyes. “Going on twenty-seven.”
“Coming,” I yelled, bending to pick up my bag. I hated to see overly made up teenagers, and I knew Max didn’t want his daughter to look like the twenty-seven-year-old she thought she was, so alongside some bits of my makeup, I’d brought a tinted moisturizer and a glittery lip gloss. Add in a bit of mascara and I didn’t think she’d need much else.
“I’ll follow with the drinks,” Max said pulling out a tray as Violet and I made our way upstairs. As we passed a table on the landing, I bent to look more closely at a wedding picture.
“Beautiful,” I said to myself. Amanda, dressed as a flower girl, stood alongside a bride and groom I didn’t recognize.
“Pandora and Jason’s wedding,” Max said from behind me.
He had his ex’s wedding photo up in his house? “Wow, that’s . . .” I wanted to say weird because it was, but it was also sweet and open hearted and all the things I knew Max to be.
“Pandora’s beautiful,” I said, turning to look over my shoulder at Max. He nodded as if it were just a statement of fact.
Amanda’s room was everything I’d expected of a normal fourteen-year-old girl. A Pitch Perfect poster over her bed, a blue-and-white-striped bedspread, and full bookshelves running across the length of one wall. Despite the house being large, it was all about family. There were no airs or graces.
“How about a face mask while Violet dries your hair?” I suggested.
Amanda grinned. “That would be awesome.”
Max set the tray down.
“Thanks, Dad. Make sure you put the oven on for the lasagna.” She took a champagne glass from her father, who obviously wanted to make her feel special. “You’ll love it, Harper. My dad’s a great chef and pasta is his specialty.”
It was sweet that she thought I was staying for dinner. I didn’t need to set her straight. I’d pull Max to the side before he left to take Amanda and then when he’d had a chance to consider what I had to say, maybe he’d call. Hopefully he’d forgive me.
“Thank you, peanut, but I think I can handle the stove.” He continued to speak but held my gaze and I couldn’t look away. “And anyway, Harper hasn’t agreed to stay for dinner yet.”
My heart fluttered, suddenly beating twice as fast. He wanted me to stay for dinner. But I hadn’t apologized yet.
“But she will, won’t you, Harper? Keep my dad company while I’m at the dance?”
“Amanda,” Max warned.
“Dad, ask her. She can’t say yes until you do. Tell him, Violet.”
“It may sound like my daughter is strong-arming me into this, which is the last thing I want you to think.” He sighed, shaking his head at his sister and daughter. “And I really appreciate getting the opportunity to ask you in front of the two most interfering women on this planet.” Max turned to look at me. “But I’d really like you to stay to dinner so we can talk and hopefully set things straight between us.” He pushed his hands through his hair.
I tried to hide my grin. I wasn’t sure what set things straight meant. I hoped at the very least it would mean we wouldn’t hate each other. But a huge part of me really wanted more, more than I deserved. I wanted Max. I had to believe I wasn’t too late.
“Lasagna’s my favorite,” I replied.
“Oh my God, I remember when she was born,” Violet said as we came down the stairs after primping Amanda for as long as we could stretch out. “It seems like yesterday. And now . . .”
Max slung his phone on the counter and raised his eyebrows, instantly in the moment with his family despite whatever corporate emergency was bound to be causing him stress. “Is she ready?” he asked. He’d left us to primp and prime his daughter, but was clearly as invested in the event as the rest of us were.
I nodded. “She’s coming.”
Violet had put some waves in Amanda’s hair, so it looked very natural falling over her shoulders. And although I’d spent a lot of time on her makeup, it could have been done in two minutes—it was just a little mascara and a touch of lip gloss. Hopefully Max would approve.
I watched Max as he gazed at his daughter coming down the stairs in the blue and silver dress we’d picked out. His eyes went glassy and he tilted his head. “Peanut, you look completely beautiful.”
My heart squeezed. I wanted to reach out for him.
He walked toward her and she stepped back, putting her hands up to stop him from coming closer.
“You can’t touch me; you’ll ruin my hair or smudge my makeup.”
He chuckled, bent down, and kissed the top of her head. “You’re getting so tall. Are you going to FaceTime your mom?”
She shook her head. “She’ll just get emotional. We took some photos. I’ll send them tomorrow.”
She might only be fourteen but worrying about her mother’s feelings in a situation that was really all about her showed a great deal about her character. A personality that had been shaped in part by the man I’d so foolishly let go.
I hung back as Scarlett and Violet gathered their things and ushered Amanda out the door. Max followed, then stopped to lean against the doorway.
Before she got in the car, Amanda turned and waved. “Bye, Dad. Bye, Harper. Enjoy your date.”