CHAPTER TWELVE
Max’s Magic Rule #13:
If you get stage fright, lock onto one person in the audience.
Max punched the button in the hospital elevator, his thoughts split between worry for Melina and anger at Grace. Since Grace assured him Melina was going to be fine, anger was winning out. He’d do anything for his family. Why didn’t Grace see that? How could she doubt for even a second that he’d drop everything the minute he heard Melina was in the hospital?
The fact she could think that made him even more determined to end things with her. He’d given her what she wanted so why risk exposing himself to yet more evidence of her low opinion of him?
Quickly, he found Melina’s room. When he saw her, his heart slowed. She was pale and had a limp arm wrapped around her belly, but she and Grace were smiling. She smiled even harder when she saw him, holding out her arms.
Grace smiled, too, but her smile faded when Max didn’t reciprocate. She stood, giving up her spot next to Melina on the bed.
Max hugged Melina, pulled back then kissed her forehead.
“Thank God you’re okay.” Gently, he laid his palm on the bulge of Melina’s stomach through her hospital gown and bed sheet. “Hey, babies.”
Melina covered his hand with hers. "Max, you didn't need to come. The doctor has already given me somethin’ to stop the contractions."
"You’re my sister now," Max said with a frown, acutely aware of how rough his voice had grown. "Even if you weren’t, you’re my friend. You know I’d be here.”
Grace sucked in a breath. When he glanced up, her expression was stiff. Hurt.
Max sighed and shook his head slightly in apology. In case she didn’t get the message, he said, “Hi Grace. Thanks for watching over Melina.”
“No need to thank me,” she said. “She’s my best friend.”
Melina flashed Grace another smile before turning back to Max. “Grace said you were in the middle of meeting with Jeremy. I’d hate for you to lose the theater because of me."
“That’s not going to happen.” He pulled out his cell phone. Saw an unplayed message and several missed calls from Rhys. “Rhys—”
“He called a few minutes ago and is on his way,” Melina said.
“Where was—?”
“Melina!”
His brother’s voice sounded behind him.
Max spun around to see Rhys rushing through the doorway, his face pale and haggard, eyes frantic. "Ladybug," he whispered, his gaze fixed on the face of his wife.
"I'm okay, sweetie. And the babies are okay, too."
Now it was Max who stood, making room for Rhys to sit on the bed.
Just as Max had done, Rhys placed his hand on Melina’s protruding stomach and gently caressed it. After leaning forward and giving her a soft kiss on the lips, he cast a glance around the room, taking in the beeping monitors and the IV in Melina’s arm. “You said on the phone the doctor gave you meds to stop the contractions. You haven’t had any more pain?”
“Absolutely none.”
Max felt the air go in and out of his lungs more easily and he noticed Rhys’s shoulders relax. Still, the fact he hadn’t been able to reach his brother during a medical emergency pissed him off. "Where the hell were you, Rhys? Why weren't you with Melina?"
His brother frowned. “I was out looking for another theater for the show, so we wouldn’t have to deal with Jeremy’s bullshit any longer.”
"You picked now to go hunting for a new venue? Yesterday you said Melina wasn’t feeling well.”
“Max—” Melina said.
“Your wife was probably in preterm labor, you dickhead.”
“You can’t think I would’ve left if I thought there was a chance in hell of her—”
“Rhys, Max didn’t mean to imply that,” Grace said quietly. She moved next to Max. “He knows how much you love Melina.” Although she didn’t take Max’s hand, she stood close enough that he could feel her pressing against his side. She was taking his back, he realized. “He was just frantic when he couldn’t reach you. We all were.”
Rhys took a deep breath and turned to his wife. "Baby, I thought I was just a phone call away. I wasn't that far—just about two miles, in the Pixie Dust Hotel. The manager called earlier this morning to tell me their headliner was going on tour in Europe and we could have the venue if conditions were met. I was there, looking at the stage and backstage area." He swore quietly, then dipped his head to kiss Melina’s lips then her belly. "I didn't realize there was no cell service in the theater. I should have checked to make sure. I am so, so sorry.”
Melina laughed, the sound light and sweet. She stroked her husband’s cheek. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters. Besides, Grace was with me. She knew exactly what to do. I was in excellent hands."
Max didn’t hesitate. He reached down and took Grace’s hand.
He hoped the gesture conveyed everything he wanted it to, including that he was sorry. That he admired her for being such a sweet and loyal friend to Melina. That he thought she was an incredible woman, and would be an amazing mother—he just wanted her to wait until the time and the man was right.
She looked at him with uncertainty then smiled and leaned in closer. Relief made him slightly dizzy.
When he looked up, both Rhys and Melina were staring at their joined hands.
Remembering his promise to keep their arrangement a secret, Max let go and took several steps away from her.
“The Pixie Dust Theater is gorgeous,” Melina said. “What happened?”
"Unfortunately, even after all this, the venue won't work—not enough room under the stage for some of our tricks. For now, Jeremy’s still got us on the hook.” He looked at Max. "I really wanted the new venue to work," he said quietly. "You shouldn't have to play the media on a constant basis just to keep the lease agreement in place. That sucks for you."
Surprise shut down any response Max could have made. He’d always thought Rhys and his parents believed playing the charming playboy was easy for him. Rhys going out on his own and trying to find a new venue spoke volumes.
“How’d the meeting with Jeremy go today?" Rhys asked.
Max shook his head. "Let’s talk about that later.” Rhys wouldn’t give a shit that Max left Jeremy hanging in the wind to race over here, even if that meant losing their lease as of yesterday, but the last thing he wanted was to add more to his brother’s worries. Max wanted all of Rhys’s focus where it belonged—on Melina and their babies, not on him or the show.
Grace said something to Melina and he looked at her again.
All day he’d planned what he’d say to her. How he’d tell her they were over. The thought of doing so had seemed difficult before. It seemed almost impossible now.
A rush of emotion swirled through him as he gazed at her. Awareness. Attraction. Respect. Longing.
That was a complication he didn’t like. He’d started to care far too much about what Grace thought of him, and he wasn’t big on being disappointed. In her eyes, he’d never be a man worthy enough to build a life with.
A bustling sounded at the doorway and he turned to see a doctor in a white coat, stethoscope around her neck and a chart in her hands, entering Melina’s room.
After introducing herself to Melina and Rhys and getting their permission to speak in front of Max and Grace, the doctor flipped through the chart.
“You were definitely in preterm labor, Mrs. Dalton,” Dr. Ellis said.
“Meaning?” Rhys asked.
“Melina’s body thinks it’s ready to have the babies. We’ve put her on medication but I’m going to recommend she stays in the hospital for the next few days while we get her stabilized.”
***
After the doctor left, Grace breathed in deeply, the scent of cleanser reminding her where she was, as though the beeping monitors weren’t proof enough. Thank God she’d been there to help Melina get to the hospital. And thank God Rhys showed up. Even though she’d been handling things and trying to hold it together beforehand, Melina had seemed to relax substantially once her husband appeared in the doorway.
It wasn’t lost on Grace that she’d been hiding her own anxiety and stress, but felt immeasurably better after Max stormed into the room, even with his brooding expression and fisted hands, and the way he initially ignored her.
Now Max and Rhys spoke quietly, making arrangements for Melina’s stay in the hospital. Watching them, she remembered her conversation with Max about whether she’d want two men to pleasure her. She doubted she’d ever actually do it, but the fantasy was hot as hell. The only thing hotter than imagining being taken by two men was imagining being taken by Max and his identical twin.
There’d be two pairs of hazel eyes to gaze into. Two sets of strong hands. Two muscled chests to caress and mouths to kiss. Two…
Max glanced up and cocked a questioning brow at her. Flushing, Grace looked away.
Mortification swept through her. What was wrong with her? Melina was in the hospital and here she was fantasizing about her friend’s husband doing her right along with Max.
She was a horrible, horrible person.
With her friend’s pregnancy at risk, her quest for an orgasm, even if it had been partially achieved, seemed all the more ridiculous.
More than ever, the scare they’d all had tonight proved what mattered most was family. It was also a reminder that she’d wronged Max by doubting he could be more than a good lover.
Time and again, she’d told herself he was the man the media presented to the world—the man he presented to the media.
A playboy.
A bad boy.
Hell, he’d even called himself those things.
But those monikers weren’t accurate. No, Max may have dated numerous women, and may have used the media’s attention to pump up his own reputation, but deep down, his family came first. He cared deeply—about his mother, his father, his brother, and now his sister-in-law and soon-to-be-born nieces or nephews.
She watched Max reach out and stroke a strand of hair behind Melina’s ears. Melina was right. If the way he treated his parents, Rhys and Melina, and yes, Grace, was any indication, Max was going to make a wonderful husband and father someday.
It just sucked that it wouldn’t be with her.
That meant she needed to stop wasting their time. She needed to push forward with her plan. When the time was right, she’d tell Max. Let him know he was off the hook.
“What can we do, Grace and I?” Max asked Rhys.
Grace started. That Max included her in his question surprised her. He’d referred to them as a “we,” reinforcing the conclusion Rhys and Melina would have jumped to when he’d reached out and held her hand.
They weren’t a “we.” Not an “us.” And yet when she glanced at him, she realized he was staring at her as if the word “we” was on purpose.
She cleared her throat. “Yes… What do you need done? I’m happy to help.”
Rhys ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t think of anything.”
Melina jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow. “Uh… hello? Nursery. Cribs. Disaster zone?”
Rhys flashed her a grin, then turned to Max. “I started the project yesterday, but I was distracted by my beautiful wife. The pieces are still all over the nursery. Do you think you and Grace could put cribs together?”
Max looked at Grace. “Do you know how to use those weird hex screwdriver things?”
She couldn’t help it—she giggled. “I think between the two of us, we can figure out how to put together a couple of cribs. After all, neither of us has a beautiful wife to distract us.”
Something dark flashed in Max’s eyes, then was gone. “We’ll do it,” he said to Rhys. “Need anything else?”
“We need bedding for the babies, too,” Melina said. “I have a bunch of clothes and diapers, but other than the quilts, no sheets or blankets.”
“We’ll take care of that once we’re done with the cribs.” He bent to give Melina a light kiss on the cheek. “And we’ll be back later tonight to check on you.”
Another use of the word “we,” Grace noted. An odd tingle shot up her tummy and into her chest. In past relationships, the use of the word “we” had signaled a turning point—a moment when the relationship deepened from dating to a full-on connection. Was Max even aware of what he was saying or how it could be construed?
She gave herself a mental head-shake. She was reading way too much into a casual use of a pronoun. She may have finally admitted Max Dalton had much more depth than she’d originally given him credit for, but that didn’t change anything. He’d offered to give her orgasms in a variety of ways. He seemed to like her and enjoy her company. But he’d liked and enjoyed the company of many, many women over the years, and he’d continue to do so.