Chapter Twenty-Nine

Grace’s POV

Max’s apartment surprised me. No sleek bachelor pad—instead, warm colors, actual bookshelves, framed art that wasn’t just expensive for the sake of it. It felt like a home.

I had accepted Max’s invitation. Helena was out tonight and Hunter was working late again. I hadn’t wanted dinner alone again in Hunter and Helena’s big house.

“Wine?” he asked, already moving to the kitchen.

“Please.” I followed, watching him select a bottle. Everything about him was confident, easy. He knew who he was.

I wished I could say the same.

“You’re thinking too hard again,” Max said, handing me a glass. His smile was genuine, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I can practically see the gears turning.”

I laughed, the sound rusty. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He clinked his glass against mine. “I like your brain. It’s one of your best features.”

“One of?” I raised an eyebrow, feeling lighter than I had in days. Max was fun.

“Well, your ass is pretty spectacular too,” he said with a wink.

I snorted mid-sip, almost choking on my wine. “Max!”

“Just stating facts.” His grin was infectious. “Not to forget the rest of…”

“Max.” But I laughed.

We settled on his couch, talking about our day. Max kept a respectful distance, but I could feel his attention…warm, focused on me… which was nice.

I’d come here tonight on a mission. Max was handsome, successful, kind. He looked at me like I was… beautiful. He wasn’t married to my sister. He wasn’t possibly the father of a child I might be carrying.

So why couldn’t I feel what I should? Why couldn’t my heart just cooperate for once? Instead of just my head. Max was hot and sexy and, most of all, free and single.

“You disappeared again,” Max said.

I blinked. “Sorry.”

“Grace,” he set his glass down, turning more to face me. “Can I ask you something?”

I nodded, suddenly nervous.

“Why did you come here tonight?”

The question hit like a slap. “What do you mean?”

Max shifted closer, eyes steady on mine. “I mean, every time we’re together, I feel like you’re trying to convince yourself of something. Like you’re working toward some goal that has nothing to do with me.”

Heat rushed to my face. Was I that obvious? Was I really that easy to read? “I… I like spending time with you.” It wasn’t a lie.

“I know you do. I’m fantastic.” His smile was kind but knowing. “But there’s a difference between enjoying someone’s company and really wanting them.”

I stared down at my wine, unable to meet his eyes. “I do want—”

“Don’t.” His voice was gentle. “Please don’t lie to yourself. Or to me.”

Silence stretched between us. I could feel tears threatening, mortified at the thought of crying in front of him. Had it really come to this?

“I’m sorry,” I whispered finally. “I wanted... I thought I could...”

“Move on?” Max supplied.

I looked up, surprised, and he smiled ruefully. “Grace, I’ve known almost right from the beginning that your heart belongs to someone else. I just hoped maybe I could change your mind.”

I was glad he didn’t say his name… I couldn’t have handled that, to be so… well exposed.

“How did you know?” My voice was barely above a whisper..

He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture was tender, friendly. “The way you shut down when I mention him. The fact that you agreed to carry his child in the first place. I can’t see Helena getting that kind of devotion from anyone… But you loving the father.” Max shrugged.

Shame washed over me. “I never meant to use you.”

“I know.” He took my hand, squeezing gently. “And I’m a big boy. I knew what I was getting into. I wasn’t blind.”

I set my wine down, feeling like absolute shit. “What’s wrong with me? You’re amazing, and I would be so lucky to have you in my life—”

“You can’t force feelings that aren’t there,” he finished. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

I looked at him. “You deserve someone who sees you. Who chooses you first. Let’s be honest here, not what I could ever offer you… not now, maybe not ever.”

Max’s smile was genuine, if a little sad. “So do you, Grace.”

The weight of his words settled over me. Did I? Or was I destined to always be second choice, the spare, the helpful sister?

“I should go,” I said, standing.

Max stood too, but instead of showing me out, he pulled me into a hug. “We can still be friends, you know. Real ones. You are a good person, Grace.”

I hugged him back, grateful for his kindness. “I’d like that.”

He pulled back, studying my face. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s an idiot for not seeing what’s right in front of him from the very beginning.”

I laughed, but it came out more like a sob. “Don’t.”

Max sighed. “Fine. But promise me something?”

“What?”

“Stop settling. Stop accepting scraps. You deserve the whole damn meal. If you ever need me, even for a shoulder to cry on. I’m here.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure I believed it. Because the one person she wanted, she couldn’t have.

At the door, Max hesitated. “Can I kiss you?”

I should have said no. Should have walked away clean. But something in me wanted to try… just one last time…to feel something for this beautiful man in front of her.

I nodded.

Max leaned in, his lips brushing mine gently. The kiss was sweet, warm. His hands came up to frame my face, deepening it slightly, and I let him, willing myself to feel the spark that should be there.

But all I could think about was Hunter. The electricity when our hands touched. The low rumble of his voice when he said my name.

I pulled away, hating myself for the disappointment I felt. For the disappointment I knew, Max saw in my eyes.

“Well,” he said quietly. “I guess that answers that question. For us both.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, ashamed.

He shook his head. “Don’t be. Some things just aren’t meant to be forced.” He touched my cheek gently. “Be careful, Grace. That heart of yours is too precious to waste on someone who can’t—or won’t—choose you.”

I left his apartment feeling both lighter and heavier. Lighter, because I’d stopped pretending. Heavier, because the truth was a burden I didn’t know how to set down.

It was late when I finally pulled into the driveway. The house was mostly dark, but I could see light from Hunter’s study. My heart did that stupid little skip it always did.

I let myself in quietly, hoping to slip upstairs unnoticed. But as I passed the study, the door opened, and Hunter stepped out, startling me.

“You’re home late,” he said, voice flat but eyes intense.

I clutched my purse tighter. “I didn’t think anyone would be waiting up.”

“I wasn’t.” A lie. We both knew it. “Just finishing some work.”

At 10:30pm? Sure. I nodded anyway. “Well, goodnight.”

I turned to go, but his voice stopped me. “Were you with Max?”

The question hung in the air. Why did it matter who she was with?

“Yes,” I said simply, not turning.

A pause. Then, “Did you have a good time?”

Now I did turn, studying his face. He looked tired, shadows under his eyes, hair messy like he’d been running his hands through it. But his expression was guarded, unreadable.

“It was fine,” I said, suddenly exhausted by all of it. “But we won’t be seeing each other anymore. Not like that. He will be my friend.”

Hunter’s posture shifted slightly. “I see.”

No, you don’t, I thought. You don’t see anything.

“Goodnight, Hunter,” I said, turning away.

“Grace.” His voice stopped me again.

I waited for him to say something, but he just stepped back. “Goodnight, then.”

I climbed the stairs slowly. Max was right. I needed to stop accepting scraps. Stop settling for glimpses and maybes and might-have-beens.

But as I passed their closed bedroom door, I was reminded of all the reasons why that was impossible.

Some choices weren’t mine to make.