Page 101 of Darkened Promises

“About Noah’s birthday? Don’t worry about it. We don’t really do anything for birthdays anyway. Just cake, dinner, and hanging out,” he says dismissively.

I hum, shaking my head in amusement. “That just sounds like every night.”

His mouth drops open. “Nope. You get to pick the cake, the food, and what you want to do. Whether it’s the film, a game, or where to go out. It’s basically your day. Last year I chose an escape room for mine, but this year, I’m thinking trampolines,” he says excitedly.

“Out?” I cringe, and my body locks tight at the thought of all of us leaving the safe confines of home.

Max’s face softens, and he brushes a strand of my hair behind my ear. His finger trails down my cheek and tilts my chin up. “I know he’d love to stay home for a cosy night here.”

I swallow roughly, hating the inconvenience I’m causing. I need to start thinking of a plan to help. There has to be something. Maybe there’s some information I’ve forgotten that’s rattling around subconsciously that might lead the police to him.

“When’s yours? I’m the worst girlfriend for not knowing.”

Max grins broadly, his smile wide and happy. “Girlfriend. Fuck, that’s hot,” he says, and my cheeks flush. “Mine’s August 10th. Bry’s is the 1st of September, I think, and Nate’s…November 15th. Or 12th. No, maybe 16th?”

“Okay…okay. I need to make sure I add them to my calendar so I don’t forget.” It’s hard to not be disappointed in myself for already failing at something that should be an easy, important step.

I’ve not really dated anyone long enough, or serious enough, for us to celebrate birthdays. But it’s definitely a thing, so I need to do better.

Max hooks his leg over mine when I attempt to move, slinging his arm over my waist. “So, for my birthday gift…”

I snort, twitching my brow at him. “You want to eat cake off me?”

He groans, tipping his head back, exposing the column of his neck. “Honeybee, I fucking love that you want to make my literal dreams come true.”

I lean in and lick at the hollow of his throat. His breath catches, and he rolls onto his back, the arm around my waist pulling me so I sprawl over his chest and peer down into his brown eyes. Using his torso, I press my palms into him, push myself up, and straddle his hips.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure thing, honeybee.” He smiles, tucking a hand under his head as he stares up at me. Across the pillow, his honey-brown waves look even wilder and messier. It makes me want to thread my fingers through them, so I do.

I don’t speak straight away, wondering if it’s even my place to ask as my fingers stroke through his strands. His eyes flutter closed, and he hums. The questions bounce around in my mind, needing to be let out.

“Have you ever spoken to her—Becka? After the relationship ended?” I query, stomach churning. I know he cares about me, that what’s between us is important to him. Although knowing he was so in love with her, that he thought they were forever…it does sometimes inject some insecurity.

Our relationship so far has been tested; it’s not been smooth for either of us. With the trust and forgiveness still building, it leaves things feeling somewhat wobbly at times. Throw in being jobless, an anxious mess, and my ongoing traumatic baggage with someone wanting to hurt me, and possibly them…I’m so far from what anyone should want to sign up for.

“No. I think she tried to, but I didn’t want anything more to do with her. She’d made her choice, and I wanted to move on with my life.” He shrugs, eyes flicking open, and offers me an easy smile. He reaches up and traces a finger softly across my cheek, circling my jaw.

“You weren’t curious at all? After all those years together?” I ask.

His finger moves up to smooth away the wrinkles between my brows. With my face tilted down to watch him, a loose strand of hair slips from my messy updo and flicks across my cheek. Max plucks it and moves it back behind my ear before I have a chance to myself.

“Did I want to know how much better her life was without me? No, not really. I know she got married a year after she left me, and she has some kids now, too. I bumped into a friend of hers and got updated on how amazing her life is now. Honestly, I get why she did it. We weren’t each other’s person,” he answers, no hurt or jealousy in his tone.

“I’m still sorry you had to go through all that,” I whisper, my lips tingling as his finger traces them.

“I’m not because it meant I got to find you. So now I’m the lucky one,” he says. The smile fades from his face as he looks at me in earnest.

My stomach swoops, heart thudding loudly at his words. I wish they were powerful enough to entirely remove the hurt Max caused before, but they don’t. His assurances have helped, but not completely. There isn’t an easy fix—it’s still going to take time to stop that niggling doubt that he might change his mind. That he might also decide I’m not his person either.

Though moments like this, when he stares up at me like a lovesick puppy, soothes some of the bruises he inflicted. I have to lean in and trust that it will work out between us. That it’s okay for me to be vulnerable. He’s become the sunshine I crave every day; his smiles, his hugs, the way he loves my thoughts and matches them with his.

A magnetic pull I can’t shy away from has me leaning closer, and our lips brush softly.

My throat tickles with an insecurity I push through. “I love you,” I whisper.

His pupils dilate, and he groans. “Fuck. I need to take every day off work. Can you say it again so I can record it?” he pants between inundating my face with little kisses. “I’m so”—he kisses along my left cheekbone—“in love”—he moves to my right and along my jaw—“with you.” He dives in and covers my mouth with his, pushing his declaration into me as his tongue sweeps in and glides against mine.