Max was aware that when he looked back on Dani’s visit to Riems, he was going to think of it like a movie montage. She usually got up early and worked on her book. When he and Max Minimus got up an hour or so later—yes, Max Minimus continued to appear in Max’s bed in the middle of the night—they took coffee and breakfast up to her. Then they’d spend the morning working.
After lunch, they’d hike or visit Riems. After dinner, which they generally had in front of the fire in the library, though once they ate with Sebastien in the main house, she might work some more, but there was usually a point at which she climbed down the ladder and they ended up talking late into the night.
Early on the fifth day of Dani’s stay, he woke to the sound of her coming down the ladder. It was dark, and a glance at his phone told him it was five a.m. She appeared in silhouette in his doorway. “Max,” she whispered.
“Hello,” he’d said back, at full volume.
“Oh!” He’d startled her. “Sorry. I’m just trying to get my dog. Lately when I wake up and he’s not there, I get up and write, but I can’t keep it up. I’m too tired.” He wasn’t surprised. They had been staying up late and she’d been getting up early. “But then, stupidly, I couldn’t fall back asleep because apparently even though I’m exhausted, I’m emotionally dependent on a seven-pound Yorkshire terrier to actually fall asleep.”
He tried to make Max Minimus go with her. He really did.
All right, he didn’t try that hard.
When the mutt responded to her summons by yawning and burrowing deeper into Max’s armpit, he could have removed him. Picked him up, handed him to Dani, and shut his door behind them.
Instead, he scooched himself, his armpit, and the dog it contained to one side of the bed and threw back the covers. When she hesitated, he started to get up, aiming to hand over Max Minimus, but she shocked him by getting into the bed. They didn’t touch. They didn’t talk. She just rolled over and went to sleep.
And so did Max.
A few hours later, he opened his eyes to find her staring at him. They were on their sides facing each other. She smiled. He did, too.
“I thought you were an insomniac,” she said.
“It must be the soothing snores of Max Minimus.” She probably thought he was in jest, but he had slept remarkably well these recent nights after the arrival of his canine bedmate. He pushed back the covers. “Do you want to take a writing break or—”
“Max?”
His blood went cold. It couldn’t be. They were in Sardinia.
“Darling?”
“Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” Dani asked.
“Get—” He was about to exhort her to get up, but to what end? Where was she going to go? Was she going to climb out a fucking window because he wouldn’t stand by her? No. Instead he said, “I am sorry in advance. Just remember that.”
The door burst open. His mother rarely came to the cottage, but when she did, she didn’t let little things like respect for privacy, or closed doors, stand in her way.
“Max, darling, didn’t you get my texts?”
Dumbly, he picked up his phone, which he’d taken to silencing because the only person he generally texted in the middle of the night was currently in his house—and in this case, his bed. The notification screen contained two messages from Sebastien that were short enough to read in their entirety.
Sebastien: Parents back!
Sebastien: Mother on her way to you!
Well, damn.
Mother’s eyes widened. She was struck dumb, which normally would have amused Max, given how rarely that happened. She knew about his reputation, of course. It was a frequent topic of “discussion.” But he’d never brought a woman to the estate.
Not that Dani was “a woman” in that sense. But to argue that, given how this looked, would be ridiculous.
He cleared his throat. “Mother, this is Daniela Martinez. Daniela, this is my mother.”
Neither woman said anything immediately—they were both like deer caught in headlights. Max Minimus barked as if annoyed to be left out.
“Right,” Max said. “And this is . . .” Oh lord.
“McMuffin,” said Dani quickly, and god bless her.
His mother raised her eyebrows. “How . . . charming.”
Max Minimus started growling, and Max had to stifle a laugh.
Dani rose from the bed, shot the dog a look that silenced him, and extended her hand as if she weren’t wearing pajamas. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Your estate is lovely.”
Mother’s “good” breeding kicked in, and she fake smiled. “How nice to meet you, Ms. Martinez. If I’m not mistaken, you’re one of Leonardo Ricci’s . . . people.”
“Was there something you wanted, Mother?” Max said loudly.
“There are many things I want, darling, but we can’t always get what we want, can we?” she said, still looking at Dani. After a beat of silence, she transferred her attention to Max. “I came to tell you that we’re back early from our holiday.”
“I can see that.”
“I came to discuss dinner plans, too, but perhaps another time is better.”
“I think so.”
Max remained still while Mother made her way out of the room, waiting until he heard the front door close before he turned to Dani. How was he going to apologize?
She burst out laughing. She laughed so hard, she started waving her hand in front of her face as if she were apologizing for laughing.
It was contagious. How extraordinary. Laughter was not Max’s customary reaction to encounters with his parents. Even Max Minimus joined in, barking happily alongside them.
“I’m sorry,” Dani said when she got control of herself. “What a . . .” She was still shaking with aftershocks. “What a disaster. What do we do now?”
“I suggest we make ourselves as scarce as possible for the rest of the day.”
“So basically you’re saying we should hide.”
“No ‘basically’ about it. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Over lunch in a café in Riems, Max received a curious text from his mother.
Mother: Please bring your friend to dine at the main house. Drinks at seven. I’d like to meet her properly and apologize for intruding this morning.
“Hmm.” That was unexpectedly civilized.
“What?” Dani asked. He turned the phone to her. “Should we go?” she asked. “We should go, right?”
“I don’t know,” he said, trying to reason through the situation as he spoke. “I suppose, if she’s feeling magnanimous, it might be a good idea, but that doesn’t account for my father. You’re going to meet them at the wedding, of course, but now that they probably think . . .” He copied the same waving-between-them motion she’d done earlier. “It might be better to get it over with here. And I can explain that we’re not . . .” She made the same gesture, and he laughed. “Mind you, it will probably still be, if not horrible, an unpleasant evening.”
“Well, my evenings here so far have been extremely pleasant. I could do with a little unpleasantness, or else you’ll never be rid of me.”