TWENTY-FOUR

Survival of the Hottest

Another week goes by with me trying to ignore my growing sense of dread about Max and my inability to deal with his job. I feel like I have a countdown clock running in the background of my life. I just have no idea what will happen when it reaches zero. Will that be it for me and Max? Game over?

I sigh and dig weeds out of Nan’s garden beds. My mood isn’t helped by the knowledge I’m turning into one of those women I used to think about with disdain. The ones who go out of their minds obsessing about a man and what they’d do if they lost him. The ones who are lovesick and pathetic.

Nearby, Nan kneels beside Moby’s pond and fusses with him. “I think he’s limping.”

“Nan, he’s swimming. He can’t limp while he swims.”

“He can and he is. I think he sprained something flapping around when Max came over yesterday. I swear he’s imprinted on that man. He gets way too excited whenever he sees him. Maybe he needs an X-ray.”

I shake my head and go back to pulling weeds. It’s good to see that Nan’s near-death experience hasn’t changed her. She’s been home for a week now, and everything’s almost back to normal. Her left arm still doesn’t have much strength in it, but at least she can move it.

Even though Max is still working day and night, he’s dropped over a few times. I know he’s coming to see me, but he spends most of his time chatting with Nan and charming her into a stupor. He still throws me glances that make me wish we were alone and naked, but I’ve been trying not to pressure him regarding sleepovers, because honestly, he looks exhausted. No wonder he’s never had a successful relationship. The man’s a workaholic. Just one more thing that doesn’t bode well for our future.

He’s asked me to give him time and trust him, and I’m trying to do that, even though patience and trust are two things I have in short supply.

“Not seeing Max again today?” Nan asks as she throws some bread into the water for Moby.

“Nope. Apparently, there are a whole bunch of other women he’d rather spend time with.” Jealousy, however, I have by the bucketful.

“Aw, sweetie, you know that’s not true. He’s a freelancer. He needs to take the work when it’s there.”

“I know, Nan. I just can’t help feeling ... we’re the right people who met at the wrong time. The odds are stacked against us.”

“He loves you. I know that much.”

“Maybe. But sometimes, that’s not enough.” I always swore I wouldn’t buy into the lie of ‘the one’ and the whole ‘love can overcome anything’ malarkey, but now that I have, it hurts like hell to find out I’ve been right to be cynical all these years.

I dust off my hands and walk over to her. “Anyway, I’m trying not to think about my issues with Max. I have to get ready for my final meeting with Derek. I’m going to beg him for my old job back and hope he’s in a good mood. If he’s not, Asha and I might have to come and crash here when we get evicted.”

Nan pulls me down into a hug. “I’m sad you can’t publish that beautiful article about Max, honey, but do you really want to hold onto that job? You hate it.”

“True, but I’m pretty sure I’d hate being unemployed even more.” I kiss her on the cheek. “So, tell me honestly, will you be okay here by yourself?”

She pulls back and scowls at me. “Now what have I told you about treating me like I’m an old woman? I won’t have it, Eden. One little coma, and you tiptoe around like I’m made of eggshells. I’ll be fine. Plus, your sister is getting back today, and I promised her we’d spend the afternoon making voodoo dolls of you and sticking them with pins.”

“She’s not going to forgive me any time soon for not telling her about your accident, is she?”

I hear a noise behind me before a familiar voice says, “No, she’s really not.”

I spin around, and then Nan and I both let out noises of delight when we see Asha standing there, looking even more radiant than she was before she left.

“Oh, my God!” I say as she runs over to us and wraps us in her arms. “Ash, I’ve missed you so damn much.”

She squeezes me as we all cling to each other in a three-way hug, and I don’t even care that I’m crying right now. My sister is home, and she couldn’t have come at a better time.

She pulls back, tears glinting on her lashes. “I got in early, so I came straight here.” She turns to Nan and gives her a thorough examination. “Are you okay?”

Nan rolls he eyes. “Don’t you start with me. This is why I choose to never get sick. People start to treat you like you’re an invalid.”

I hug both of them again, happy that at least this part of my life is holding together.

“I need to hear all about France, Ash, but right now I have to go get ready for my meeting with Derek.”

Ash takes my hand. “I’m so sorry about the article, Edie. I know how much you wanted that promotion.”

I shrug. “C’est la vie, right?”

She hugs me again. “At least you have an amazing man to console you.”

“Yeah,” I say, pushing down my emotions. “At least I have that.”

Ash says she’ll help me get ready, and then turns to Nan. “Will you be okay by yourself, old girl?”

Nan stares at her, unimpressed. “Get out of here before I forget why I love you two so much.”

We laughs as we head downstairs, and by the time Asha is finished with me, I look like a French model. She’s dressed me in the prettiest floral wrap-dress I’ve ever seen, rationalizing that if I look like a delicate flower, Derek might be less inclined to yell at me and toss me out into the street. I can only pray she’s right.

“Edie, no matter what happens today, know that I couldn’t be prouder of you.” She hugs me again. “But please know I will be torturing you for months as payback for not telling me about Nan.”

I laugh and squeeze her. “I’d expect nothing less. See you later.”

As I head toward the subway station, I take some deep breaths to calm my nerves. I wish I could talk to Max. I know he’s working, but I crave his support right now.

As if I’ve willed it to happen, my phone lights up with his number, and a wave of relief rushes though me as I answer. “Hi. I didn’t think I’d get to speak to you until later.”

“I snuck away.” Even through the phone, his voice soothes me. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I could win the World Barfing Championship.” I just have to remember I’m doing this for him. Maybe that will stop my stomach from churning with too much acid.

He makes a sympathetic noise. “I just want you to know I’ll never forget that you were willing to give up you dream for me. One day soon, I’m going to make it up to you.”

“With sex?”

He chuckles. “Among other things.” His voice gets softer. “You’re an amazing woman, Eden Tate. I hope you know that.”

I look both ways then cross the street. “I don’t think Derek would agree with that assessment.”

“You never know. He might surprise you.”

“Sure. And I might suddenly sprout a tail.”

“Is it wrong that I’d still do you with a tail?”

“Not at all. Mutant-girls need lovin’ too.”

He laughs, and I pause at the mouth of the subway and take in a breath and then release.

“Okay, I gotta go and meet my doom. Will you call me later?”

There’s silence for a second, and then he says, “Absolutely. I love you.”

I take one more deep breath as I head down the stairs. “I love you, too.”

* * *

Half an hour later, when I arrive at the Pulse offices, I suspect the writing’s already on the wall for me. Every head turns my way the second I step in the door.

Shit. Not a good sign.

Despite his faults, Derek has a pretty good sense of people. He’s probably predicted what I’m going to do and informed everyone I’m not long for this office. That suspicion unnerves me more than I’d like.

As I mutter greetings to everyone, Toby peeks his head over the top of his cubicle, but before I can say hello to him, he ducks out of sight.

I walk over and find him hunched down in his chair. “What are you doing?”

He looks around and sits up, as if he didn’t know I was there. “Oh, Eden! Hi. How are you?” He stands and gives me an awkward hug. “Great to see you. Good to hear about Nan. I hear Asha’s coming home today? That’s fantastic. How’s everything? Good?”

“Toby.” He snaps his mouth closed. “What’s going on?”

“Going on? Nothing. Why? Everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You’re babbling. You only do that if you’re drunk or nervous, and since it’s not even lunchtime, I hope you’re not drunk.”

He blinks a few times then glances over at Derek’s office. “I can’t say anything. You’ll have to see Derek.”

“Is he suing me or something? I haven’t even told him about the story yet.”

“You’ll have to talk to him.” He’s like a damn chicken, looking everywhere but at me.

“Do you want to catch a bite afterward? Help me drown my blues? I’m buying.”

“Yeah, maybe. I have a lot of work. I’ll see.”

Now I know there’s something wrong. I’ve never known Toby to blow off a free lunch before.

“Tobes, please promise me that if I get fired, we’ll still be friends. Just because I no longer work here doesn’t mean we can’t hang out, right?”

That makes him focus on me, and he gives me a reassuring smile. “As if you could get rid of me that easily. I’ll always be there for you.”

“TATE!” I look over to see Derek standing in his doorway. “Let’s go. I don’t have all day.”

I give him a nod before turning back to Toby. “Okay. I’ll see you later, yes?”

He pats my shoulder. “Absolutely. Good luck.” I’m a little hurt Toby isn’t more distressed. Doesn’t he understand what’s at stake here? I’m about to beg a man who has the temperament of a cranky Rottweiler to allow me to go back to churning out memes, a job I’m terrible at and despise. And if I’m not successful, which I doubt I will be, Toby will lose his cubicle buddy forever. How is he okay with this?

As I walk into Derek’s office, everything seems to go into slow motion, and I swear I hear gallows drums. If he’s feeling generous, maybe Derek will allow me a last cigarette. Despite everything, if this ends up being my last day here, I’m going to miss this place. I really liked the people, not to mention a steady paycheck.

As I approach the door, I pull my shoulders back. I’ve been trying to prep myself all morning for Derek’s reaction to what I’m about to tell him. Maybe I should have worn a rain poncho just in case his head explodes with rage. I’ve heard brains are a bitch to get out of silk.

After closing the door behind me, I sit in the chair in front of his desk, and for once he’s not typing away on his tablet. He’s sitting calmly with his fingers steepled in front of his mouth, and he’s staring at me with those cold, gray eyes. I cross my legs and clear my throat, and I’m about to lay everything on the line when Derek says, “Nice dress.”

I look for the sarcasm in his tone but can’t find it. “Uh ... thanks. Nice ... uh ... haircut.” I’m not lying. For once his hair doesn’t look like he’s been pulling it out by the roots all day.

“I hear your grandmother is recovering well.”

“Uh, yes. Thanks. She loved your flowers.” I clear my throat. “So, Derek ...”

He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, a small smile curling the edges of his mouth. “You’re a sly one, Tate, I’ll give you that. You kick and scream for me to give you this assignment, then you bitch about protecting your sources, you tell me that you’re going to write a ball-shriveling scandal that will have New York’s social elite scrambling under the nearest rock, and then after I give you an extension on your deadline ... well, then you don’t deliver on any of it.”

Okay, so he already knows. I wonder if Toby told him, and that’s why he was acting so strangely. “I’m sorry, Derek. I really am. I know I haven’t given you what I promised.”

“No, you haven’t. But goddammit, woman, you’ve given me something better, and I wanted you to be here to see the reaction when it went up on the site. Honestly, I think it’s going to break records, Tate. My ass is tingling just thinking about it.”

I roll his words around in my brain for a second, hoping they’ll re-form into a different pattern that makes more sense, but they don’t.

“I’m sorry, what?”

He holds up his finger and looks at his watch. “Just be patient. It went live a few minutes ago, so any second now ...” He seems to hold his breath for a full five seconds, and then, as if on cue, every phone in the entire place starts ringing at once, including his.

He smiles, and it’s such a foreign expression on his face, it looks all wrong. “I knew it.”

He taps some keys on his computer then turns it around so I can see. Staring back at me, front and center on the Pulse Features page, is my story, and beneath it is a counter showing the number of clicks it’s receiving, as well as incoming traffic to the site.

“Jesus. It’s even better than I predicted. Look at this.” He brings up his inbox. “We’re already getting requests to use it on subsidiary sites. There’s one from the New York Times. This is insane.”

He continues tapping on keys and mumbling excitedly as I sit there in shock, my blood pressure getting higher every second. This can’t be happening. How is this happening?

In my purse, my phone starts vibrating, but I ignore it.

“Derek, how did you get that story?”

He keeps his eyes on the screen as he lets out a short laugh. “Oh, you really want me to eat crow and say you were right to browbeat me into giving you a chance? Fine. The story was your idea. Mind you, when you emailed it through to me this morning, I didn’t think it would be so fucking good. Sorry I doubted you. There. Happy now? Because I only throw out two sorrys per year, and you’ve just used up your quota.”

People start knocking at the office door and come in bearing messages about other news outlets wanting details about Mister Romance so they can run their own features, but I barely hear them. All I can think about is that someone sent him that story, and now, in the space of a few minutes, Max is out of business.

Goddammit.

“Derek, this came from my email account?”

He stays glued to his screen. “Yeah. Why?”

No matter how much I deny that this is my fault, Max won’t believe me, and I could hardly blame him. After all of those noble sentiments about me giving up my dream for him, it’s going to look like I turned around and betrayed him.

I get up and walk out of Derek’s office in a daze. He’s so busy, he barely notices. People congratulate me as I pass, but it all rings hollow. I feel like throwing up.

When I reach Toby, a light bulb goes off in my brain.

I poke him in the chest. “What the hell, Toby? You hacked into my email? You sent Derek the story?”

Toby stands and holds up his hands. “Okay, just wait a second before you murder me. Yes, I didn’t want you to get fired, so passing along the story was the best way of preventing that.”

“I can’t believe this! You’ve ruined everything! Max’s business … his trust in me.”

“Wait, stop. I’m just the tech genius in this scenario, not the mastermind.” He holds his phone out to me. “There’s someone you need to speak with.”

I take the phone, my face burning with anger and embarrassment. “Who is this?”

“Eden.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Max, I have no idea what’s going on. I’m so sorry. I never wanted this to happen. I promise, I intended on coming here and killing the story. You have to believe –”

“Eden, stop. I know it wasn’t you.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Because it was me.” I turn to Toby, who’s now smiling from ear to ear. “I couldn’t let you throw your career away for me, and seriously, that story was so damn good, everyone needed to read it. I’m so proud of you, I can’t put it into words.”

“But ... your business.”

“We have a lot to talk about. Can you come to the warehouse?”

“Now?”

“Well, as soon as Derek pulls his head out of his ass long enough to give you a huge promotion and a substantial raise, yes.”

I sit down in Toby’s chair. I don’t trust my legs to hold me up anymore. Now I know how Alice must have felt the day she fell through the rabbit hole.

“Max, what the hell is happening?”

“It will all become clear soon. I’ll text you the code for the warehouse door. Come straight in when you arrive. I’ll be waiting.”

Then he hangs up, and I feel like all the air has been knocked out of my lungs. I sit there and stare off into space as a cyclone of activity swirls around me. Just when I think I have a handle on everything, this happens. I’m so confused, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

* * *

By the time I make it to the alley behind Max’s warehouse it’s midafternoon, and I’m hoping that whatever I’m walking into is good news. I still can’t believe he exploded his career in order to save mine, but I don’t know what that means for us. Being made the new Head of Features at Pulse, and the sizable raise that came with it, means nothing if I can’t keep Max in my life.

When I get to the stairs, I notice the mural is different. Instead of a man half hidden in shadows, there’s a couple embracing, and they look remarkably like Max and me. The motto on the door is different, too. It used to read, Abandon hope, all ye who enter. Now, it reads, All you need is love.

A rush of flutters takes flight in my stomach as I pull open the door and step inside.

When the door closes behind me, I’m engulfed by darkness. There’s a dull glow from the exit sign above the door, but otherwise all I can see is inky blackness.

“Max?” My voice echoes, but not as much as I expect considering how big and empty the space is. I grab my phone to use the flashlight, but then I remember it ran out of juice about thirty emails ago, so I drop it back into my purse and take a tentative step forward.

“Max? Are you here?”

“Eden.” His voice wraps around me, deep and resonant. “How are you feeling?”

“Confused.” I squint when I think I see something glint a few yards in front of me, but there’s not enough light to make it out. “What am I doing here? And what happened today? You asked Toby to hack me and send that article to Derek? Knowing what it would do to your business? Is this ...” I clench my hands against the tightening in my throat. “Are we done? Is that what this is all about?”

There’s silence, then he says, “You tell me. Am I too late?”

“Too late for what?”

“Proving that you’re the most important thing in the world to me.”

I hear a click, and then a path of light illuminates the floor from where I’m standing to where Max is, a dozen yards away. He looks slick and sharp in a grey suit, but his expression is troubled. “I know you hated thinking about me with other women, and ... I should have told you what I was planning earlier, but I didn’t want to get your hopes up before I knew I could pull it off. I signed the final contracts a couple of hours ago.”

“Max ... I still don’t understand what’s happening.”

“You will. But first, I have to know ... do you love me?”

I step forward, hating the distance between us like it’s a living being. “How do you not know by now that I love you more than I thought I could love anyone? It’s sad and pathetic and wrong how much I love you, and most days I’m so desperate to see you and touch you, I want to punch myself in the face.”

He tries not to smile. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me. And believe me, the feeling is entirely mutual. But loving me shouldn’t have a price tag, and if you hadn’t published that story, you would have been sacrificing your career for me, and I couldn’t live with that.”

“So you decided to sacrifice yours? I thought we’d settled this. You need the money. Your debt ...”

He walks forward, slowly. “Eden, the second I fell in love with you, I knew my career was over. As much as I tried to continue on, I couldn’t do it anymore. Not in the same way. I didn’t want to touch anyone but you, or kiss anyone but you. I was doing my clients a disservice, because when I was with them, I was counting down the hours until I could be with you again, and that’s not fair to them, or you, or me.”

He stops a few feet away, but I force myself not to touch him, until I can comprehend where we stand. His words make my heart expand in my chest to the point of pain, but I’m still confused. “So ... you’re telling me you’re retiring?”

“In a way. In nature, you either evolve or die. I decided to evolve.”

He clicks something in his hand, and I hear a beeping sound. Then, all of the lights come on at once, momentarily blinding me, and I shield my eyes. When I lower my arm, I see the vast warehouse space has been transformed into a trendy, urban office space. On the wall behind the front desk is a stainless-steel logo.

“Romance Central?”

Max steps forward and takes my hands. “In your article, you said that everyone deserves to feel priceless at least once in their life, and I couldn’t agree more. By myself, I could only service a dozen clients, but if I pass my skills along to others ... I can make a whole army of Mister Romances. And Miss Romances. I think there are a lot of guys out there who could also use some self-esteem therapy, too.”

“Wait, you’re ... franchising?”

He smiles. “In a way. I’m going from a one-man operation to a corporation. Taking tailor-made romance to the masses.”

The relief I feel is so powerful, tears prickle my eyes. “For weeks I thought we were heading toward this terrible apocalypse where you’d have to choose between me and your work, and I didn’t stand a chance.”

He stares at me like I’m insane. “Eden, if it comes down to choosing between you and anything else on this planet, I’d choose you ... every single time.” He comes over and takes my hands, and all of a sudden I feel stupid for having ever doubted him. “Everything else in my life is optional, except you. You’re essential.”

I look at our intertwined hands. “Well, now you’re just trying to make me cry.”

He pulls me into his arms and hugs me and after I’ve pulled myself together he says, “Would you like a tour?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He leads me into the office area where the whole space has been fitted out with an eclectic mix of secondhand furniture, and I’m positive I’m not nearly hip enough to be here. The design has made use of the original brickwork, and the rest of the spaces have been defined by tall glass walls.

“How on earth did you do all of this so fast?”

“We had a lot of help. Remember Vivian from Valentine’s Foundation?”

“Of course.”

“She’s the head of a multi-million-dollar construction and property development company. She brought in her whole crew. Come look.”

He shows me around, and apart from several large offices, there’s a central kitchen, a spacious training room, and at the back, beneath the huge paneled windows is a giant conference room complete with a long wooden table, at the end of which is something underneath a black cloth. The rest of the table is covered in headshots of a huge range of men and women, all different ethnicities and ages, and judging by some of the bios, sexualities.

Max gestures to them. “This is our first batch of Romance Central candidates. All experienced actors. All decent people. Training starts next week. Dyson will take over all of my existing clients. And with so many more people being available for dates, we can charge less and still stay financially viable.”

He clicks the control in his hand again, and a large screen on the wall lights up with a slick-looking website. “Toby did the site for us and then sneakily inserted the link to it on the bottom of your article. We’ve had over three-hundred inquiries since it went live.”

I feel myself gaping. What he’s achieved is astonishing. “Where did you get the money to do this?”

He pulls away the black cloth. Underneath is a scale model of the warehouse, fully developed into a trendy apartment complex, with Romance Central taking pride of place in the ground floor. “Presenting New York’s latest apartment-warehouse development. Vivian and I are now partners. I’ve signed over fifty percent ownership of the warehouse, and she’s taking care of all construction costs, as well as giving me a healthy chunk of the profits. It’s going to take about a year for all the construction, and we’ll have to relocate the offices for part of that time, but the bottom line is still impressive. When all of the apartments are sold, I should be able to clear my family’s debts and even have a little left over.”

He stares at me as he waits for my reaction, and it’s clear how nervous he is. I don’t know why, because surely he knows I thought he was brilliant before all of this. Now, I’m convinced he’s an actual genius.

I walk over and put my arms around his neck. “Max, this is ... unbelievable.”

He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me close. “So, you approve?”

I stretch up on my toes and kiss him gently, beyond grateful he found a way for us both to get what we want.

When I pull back, he lets out a shaky breath. “Okay ... I’m going to take that as a yes.” He slides his hand along my neck as he kisses me again, more intense this time. It’s so thrilling, it feels as if it’s the first time all over again, and in a way, it is. This is us with nothing to hide. No secrets, or agendas, or characters. Just the relentless need to be together.

“So, we’re alone here?” I ask as I push his jacket off his shoulders.

He tugs his tie free and throws it on the floor. “Totally alone.”

“Was this by design?”

“Maybe. This is a beautiful table. It would be a shame not to christen it and celebrate this new chapter in our lives.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

We both moan when he kisses me hard and lifts me to sit on the edge of the table. Then, he cups my cheek and kisses down my neck, and I lean back, pushing up to meet him.

“So,” I say, my voice tight as my body explodes with sensation. “Your official title will be, what? Mister Boss-Man? Big Daddy Romance?”

“I don’t really care, but feel free to call me sir any time.” He finds the tie of my wrap-dress and tugs at it. “The main thing is that the only woman I’ll be dating will be you.” He pulls open the dress and makes an animalistic noise as he stares at my body. “Dammit, you’re too gorgeous to be real.” He kisses down my neck, nipping and sucking as he goes.

“One more very important question,” I say, barely able to breathe as he kisses my breasts, then down to my stomach. “Will you have free and easy access to the costumes?”

He stops and looks up at me. “Do you have something particular in mind?”

I shrug. “Well, we could start with the Officer and a Gentleman uniform and work our way through the rack.”

“I knew I should have used that on one of our dates.”

I urge him to straighten up, then start on the buttons of his shirt. He watches me with barely restrained energy, like a panther waiting to pounce.

“Just out of interest,” he says. “Which of my characters was you favor –”

“Kieran.” I pull his shirt open and run my fingers over his broad chest, then trail down to the ridges of his abs. God, he feels amazing.

“Wait a second.” He grabs my hands and stops me. “Don’t you want think about that for more than half a second?”

“Okay.” I pause and pretend to think. “Kieran.”

He glares, and it’s sexy as hell. “You’re supposed to say that you found me sexiest when I was being myself. C’mon, Eden.”

“Oh. Well, sure. But the accent, Max. That freaking, goddamn sexy accent.”

His face darkens, and he advances on me until I’m scooting my butt back on the table. Then he’s climbing up, crawling after me with an expression that screams of all the things he’s about to do. I’m certain there could be spanking involved.

“Oh, yeh like the accent, do yeh, lass?”

“God, yes. Keep talking.”

He kneels between my legs and unbuckles his belt, and my gaze falls to where his long erection is straining the fabric of his suit pants. “Oh, I’ll keep talkin’ alright. Top ‘o the mornin’ to yeh, Miss Tate. Now, get yer feckin’ panties off.”

There’s a rush of activity as we get clothing off and out of the way, and when there’s only skin pressing against skin, we both groan in relief as he pushes into me.

He looks down at me in awe, and cradles my head as his hips connect with mine. He fills me so completely, I don’t want him to move.

“Max ... I love you.”

He leans his forehead against mine. “I love you, too.” His voice is soft. “God, Eden, how I love you.”

As he starts to thrust, slow and deep, all of a sudden, nothing else exists for me outside the circle of his arms. For so many years I thought I knew about pleasure. I thought it was defined by the empty, soulless encounters I engaged in after I’d had enough alcohol to dull my expectations. But this ... having a man who looks at me like I’m the reason the sun rises is a powerful reminder that I knew nothing, and I’m more than happy for Max to educate me as he slides home, time and again, proving without a doubt that pleasure with him is in a whole other universe compared with other men.

As a testament to that pleasure, the warehouse echoes with muttered curses and strained moans as we give the conference table the most mind-blowing christening possible. Twice.

In fact, we christen a lot of the new offices over the next several hours. Romance Central well and truly earns its name.

When our bodies are heavy and satisfied, and we’re wrapped in a rug on Max’s oversized leather couch, he leans down and kisses me, and I think it’s the sweetest, most loving kiss I’ve ever experienced. It tells me how happy he is. How grateful. And I kiss him back, doing my best to tell him I feel exactly the same way.

“Do you still think that happy endings are a myth?” he asks, running his fingertips up and down my arm.

I stroke his beautiful face, more content than I’ve ever been. “I may not believe in happy endings, but happy beginnings are another story.”

He smiles, and as we adjust to a more comfortable position, I snuggle into his chest and close my eyes.

Even though I teased him about finding Kieran the most attractive, the truth is, I fell in love with every single one of his characters, because they were all different versions of him. Each was sexy, and sweet, and intelligent as hell. Each mesmerized and aroused me. But the real Max, the man he is every day, when no one but me is looking, is my one true love. He took a distrustful cynic and turned her into a woman who totally believes in the healing power of love. He opened my eyes to the reality that a kind touch and loving glance can make people feel more special than all the money in the world. And even if he never goes near another costume for the rest of his life, I’ll always think of him as a superhero and a rock star, all wrapped up in one.

But perhaps his most impressive achievement is helping me to finally understand that romance rules, and anyone who tries to tell you otherwise is fooling themselves.