The words rushed over him in a warm wave, and he closed his eyes to savor every sensation those words inspired. With Ava’s faith in him, he’d achieved a monumental goal. Caring for her, loving her had made him human—more human than any antidote.
He kissed her right there in the hallway outside the ski shop. “I love you, too, Dr. Whitman. Now let’s get some coffee or hot chocolate and get ready to skate.”
In the coffee shop, Max planted his elbows on the little table between them, hunching forward. “What do you remember about Bessler?”
“He’s husky, blond, usually has a buzz cut.” She skimmed her finger through the mountain of whipped cream floating on her cocoa and sucked it into her mouth.
He dragged his gaze away from her lips. He had to stay focused on this meeting with Bessler. “I don’t mean his physical appearance. What was he like? Seems like he was one of the talkers if he told you he was a snowboarder and you mentioned your brother to him.”
“He was nice, young.” She snapped her fingers. “He was like you and Simon—friendly, talkative. A lot of the guys were reticent, didn’t have much to say for themselves.”
“So, you think Bessler could be on the up-and-up because he was friendly?”
“It kind of makes sense, or at least it’s a positive sign. You three were not affected by the T-101 as much as the others.” She sipped her hot chocolate and ended up with a fluff of whipped cream on her nose.
He reached over and dabbed it off. “Would you stop doing all that with the whipped cream?”
“Doing what?” She rubbed the back of her hand across the tip of her nose, her eyes widening.
“I’m supposed to be running through my plan for meeting Bessler and you’re flicking whipped cream all over your body.”
Her lips twitched into a smile. “You need to get your mind out of the gutter.”
“It’s not the gutter I’m imagining.” He drew a line with his fingertip from her slender throat down to the V of her sweater. “It’s a big bed with tousled covers and tousled hair and lots of whipped cream.”
She swallowed and whispered, “Maybe if everything goes well with Bessler, we’ll have time to live out that fantasy.”
It always came back to that. She had to stop dreaming. He had one blue pill left, one pill between him and sure madness. And he planned to be as far away from Ava as possible when that madness descended.
“Hmm, don’t know about that.” He rolled his eyes to the ceiling.
“Wh-what? I have faith.”
“I don’t know if I want whipped cream or warm fudge and strawberries—maybe both, maybe all three.”
Blinking her eyes, she smiled through her sniffles. “Once we get out of this mess, you can have me any way you want me.”
He smacked the table. “You just pumped up my motivation tenfold.”
She tapped her phone. “It’s time. It’s eleven forty-five.”
“So it is.”
They left their cups on a tray and made their way to the front of the hotel for the lunchtime shuttle into town. A few other guests from the hotel joined them, and then the driver hopped in.
He looked in his rearview mirror and called out, “This shuttle is going into town, makes one stop and then turns around.”
The driver cranked the doors shut, and the bus lurched forward.
Max closed his eyes, trying to visualize his meeting with Bessler, but instead of a green scarf, all he saw was a pair of sparkling green eyes, and the thought kept pounding his brain that this could be his last day with Ava.
Even if Bessler hadn’t called to lure him out and kill him, the other agent probably didn’t have much to offer and he hadn’t had Ava to help him. Bessler had called out for help—not much chance he could solve the problem.
The shuttle turned the corner and threw Ava against his shoulder. She stayed put, and Max draped his arm across the back of her seat and drummed his fingers on her collarbone.
She’d put on a good face today, but she’d been tense and had seemed on the verge of tears a couple of times. He’d take the coward’s way out and slip away in the middle of the night. Ironic for a man who’d been searching for human emotion for the past two years only to escape from it in the end.