“Dean.”
“On the other hand, you are a cop and your word is law.”
“Damn right it is.” Max walked in front of the TV and extended a hand, his eyes very, very warm. Julia seized it, her heart swollen to six times its usual size. Max led her up the hallway. “In here,” he said, gesturing to a big room with a huge bed at its center. Julia stepped cautiously into the place she’d pictured a hundred times. “It’s bigger than I thought it would—”
Max’s hands were deep inside her hair, and he was kissing her. The world tilted and she found herself on his bed as he braced himself above her, kissing her neck and shoulders like he was drawing poison from her wounds.
“I love you,” he muttered into her neck. “I love you, Jules.”
“Oh.” Julia was too distracted by his mouth to say anything.
“I’m sorry for telling Jeremy about your game without letting you know.”
“That’s okay. I’m sorry for acting like a mental person.”
“You’re not mental.” Max kissed down her tank top toward her belly button. “You’re much smarter than I am. Prettier too.”
Julia worked a hand into his damp hair. “I’m not so sure about that. Just ask Henrietta.”
Max kissed her hipbone, then he shook his head and beamed at her. “You really drew that picture six years ago?”
“Yeah, kind of. Yeah.”
That afternoon Tiff had sent her a scan of a drawing she’d done a long time ago. It showed Max in his motorcycle jacket and herself in a green dress kissing. Underneath the picture she’d scrawled “What if love at first sight wasn’t bullshit?” and underneath that. “I miss him.”
It was dated three days after Brett Davis’ birthday. In her e-mail Tiff wrote that the picture got mixed up with Scarlet Woman’s sketches and she hadn’t wanted to embarrass her by giving it back. The e-mail subject line was, “Figured you could use a reminder.”
And so she had. A reminder that with no risk came no reward, that people were messier than the evidence room in the Brenthill Police Station and love was too rare and toogoodto turn down because you were scared. Julia ran a hand through Max’s hair, watching as wave after wave of black silk fell against his forehead. “I love your hair.”
“Just my hair?”
She closed her eyes, trying to find the right words. “I’m…still scared of being in love. I’ve never really been in love with anyone except you and I knew that was too crazy to ever say out loud. Except for that drawing. Which I never intended anyone to see.”
Max’s eyes were warm. “And now?”
“Now I think I can safely say I mightpossiblylove you.”
“Excellent.” Max seized her hand and kissed it. “Same here. Except, you know, more conclusively.”
“Just promise you’ll never lock us inside a police station again.”
He lay down on top of her, comforting her with his weight, his strength. “What would you be willing to do in exchange for this promise?”
Julia kissed his nose. “Anything. Obviously.”
Max sat up, pulling his T-shirt over his head. “So let’s get started.”