Postcards From… Collection. Maisey YatesЧитать онлайн книгу.
of course. And they still want to talk to you.”
She pressed her hands to her face, overwhelmed.
“Are you okay?” Max asked.
“I can’t believe it,” she said.
She sat up then and faced him.
“I don’t know what to say to you. You’ve given me so much already. Max…you’ve saved my life these past few weeks. And now this…”
His expression remained serious before he smiled.
“You were born to dance, Maddy,” he said.
“Yes.”
She flung herself at him and held him so tightly her joints ached with the effort of it.
“Max. Thank you. Thank you,” she said.
“Maddy.” His arms tightened around her just as firmly.
They sat that way for a long moment, holding each other fiercely. Then a horrible thought hit her.
I’ll have to leave him. I’ll have to leave Max to dance.
No.
The single word resounded like a shout in her mind. No. She couldn’t leave Max. She couldn’t possibly walk away from these feelings.
Max’s grip slackened and she sensed he was about to break their embrace. She couldn’t let him go. She wouldn’t let him go, she decided. As he tried to ease away from her, she maintained the embrace. After a few seconds, he relaxed into it again, intuiting her desire—her need—for the contact.
Quickly she made plans in her mind. The company would be based in the Netherlands somewhere, probably Amsterdam, just a short flight from Paris. She could visit Max between tours, and when she had a break from rehearsals. And he could come visit her. They could take turns. She could watch his sculptures come alive. She could still have him in her life.
Only when she’d organized her thoughts and decided she could have it all did she bring herself to release him.
“They want to see you the day after tomorrow,” Max said. “I know it’s late notice, but they’re in the last stages of planning and your availability was a bit of a wild card for them.”
She widened her eyes in shock, a thousand practical consid-erations hitting her like an avalanche.
“My God. I’ll need to book a flight. Shit, I don’t even have a suitcase. What am I talking about? I came here with barely anything. I’ve got nothing to put in a suitcase.” She laughed, feeling a little dizzy with the newness of it all.
He watched her, his gaze intent.
“Happy, Maddy?” he asked. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
She thought of what lay ahead—the opportunity to dance, and the chance to have Max by her side while she did it. Her two great loves, hand in hand.
“Yes, Max. This is what I wanted.”
IT JUST ABOUT KILLED HIM, but he got through the evening and the next day, and he drove Maddy to the airport for her flight to Amsterdam that night.
He thought about flying with her, holding her hand through the interview, but Maddy didn’t need him for any of that. She knew how to dance without him.
He lay awake for a long time that night, aware of the space in the bed beside him.
Better get used to that, he told himself. The sooner the better.
She called from her hotel room the minute she got in from her interview the next day. He wiped the clay off his hands with a towel and held the phone to his ear with his shoulder as she raved about how nice everyone was and how much she loved the ethos of the new company and how excited she was about their ideas for shows and tours.
“They offered you a place, then?” he asked drily when he could get a word in edgeways.
“Yes! Yes! Didn’t I mention that? God, I’m so excited I don’t know whether to sit or do a handstand. Oh, Max, I wish you were here. We could go out and celebrate.”
He dropped the towel and gripped the receiver.
“You’ll have lots of things to sort out. Your apartment in Australia. You’ll need to find a place in Amsterdam,” he said.
“I know. They want to start rehearsals within the month. There’s so much to sort out. Thank God for the Internet.”
He took a deep breath. “I can get your gear together here, send it on. That will save you one trip and a bit of time, anyway,” he said.
“Oh, no, I’ll come back to Paris. I need to say goodbye to Eloise and Charlotte and talk to you. We need to plan your first visit to Amsterdam, Max,” she said.
His grip tightened on the phone. “It’s a nice idea, Maddy, but probably not a good one.”
There was a short pause.
“Me coming back to Paris? Or you coming to Amsterdam?”
He could hear the hurt in her voice. He steeled himself. “Both, I guess.”
“What about—What about us, Max?” she asked. Her voice was quiet and low. He imagined her sitting in her hotel room, her face crumpled with confusion.
But any hurt she was feeling would soon pass. She had a second chance at her career. The few weeks they’d had together would soon fade into insignificance as she lost herself in her craft again. If they’d ever had any significance in the first place. As Charlotte had so eloquently pointed out, Maddy needing him while he loved her was not a recipe for success. One of these things was definitely not like the other.
“I’ll never forget it, Maddy. But we both know it only happened between us because of what was going on in your life. Let’s quit while we’re ahead,” he said.
There was a long silence. He could hear her breathing on the other end of the phone.
“What about your sculptures? I mean, I’d like to know how you do with everything.”
“Of course. I’ll let you know if I ever get a show, send you pictures. You’re my friend, Maddy. We’ll always be friends.”
Except it would kill him to see her, to talk to her, to hear about her life and how she was getting on without him. He’d do it, because he didn’t want to hurt her and she would be hurt if he cut all contact. But he needed some time between now and whenever he next saw her to get his shit together. To find a way of surviving the next little while with this ache in his chest.
“I’ll get your stuff together tomorrow and send it to you at the hotel,” he said.
“Okay. Thanks.”
She sounded as though she was crying. He closed his eyes and swore silently.
“I’ll miss you, Max,” she said.
“I’ll miss you, too, Maddy.”
There was nothing much else to say. He’d found a way for Maddy to continue living her dream. Now he had to work out how to live his life without her in it.
He ended the call and stood staring at the phone for a long time. Then he walked to the kitchen and dug out the last bottle of cognac from his father’s collection.
He poured himself a drink and took the bottle and the glass with him to the couch. Then he sat down and proceeded to get ball-tearingly wasted.
MADDY DIDN’T KNOW what to do with herself. She sat listening to the dial tone in her hotel room for a full five minutes before it occurred to her to hang up.
Max didn’t want to see her again. He didn’t even want her to come back to Paris to say goodbye properly. He’d just neatly excised her out of his life and waved au