I break our kiss, and Max grumbles. "Don't smite me, my lord, okay? But I have to get the cake ready," I say, beaming at his tight face.
Skipping around him, I finish the final touches on the cake while he stands a few metres away, beside some men I don't know. He sips his whiskey, but his eyes never leave me. I can feel them.
As a group of girls slide past him, they make eyes, say hello, and try to engage him. With a slight frown in their direction, he nods his head once in response to their eager approach. They look offended. He's basically waving them off, and I hate how much that makes me smile. Because I don't want him to be rude to people. Don't want him to be an unapproachable, unfriendly person, and yet, that's Max. I've come to realise that. He chooses the people who deserve his attention and he's ruthless in his selection. And this group, which includes a tall, leggy, brunette dressed as Cat Woman, doesn't seem to have the prerequisites.
The cat girl follows Max's stare, locking on to me as I try to focus on fixing the frosting on the cake. Focus on the frosting and not her. Or how interested she is in my boyfriend. Yep, I'm not looking her way at all. . . She says something in her friend's ear, then wanders off.
Ugh.
The Mad Hatter, in all his tall, dark, and tattooed glory, finally appears, seemingly unaffected by our previous interaction. I, on the other hand, try to ignore the heat of embarrassment rousing below my cheeks.
Bronson looks at the cake. "Fucking red velvet, that's my favourite!"
Max frowns as my eyes bounce away from his big brother. My lips tighten, smothering a nervous smile.
Max moves over to me and folds his arms over his thick chest. "Explain."
Gawd, I'm so transparent. Peering up at him, his stoic expression firmly in place, I cover my smile with my palm and talk against it. "I kinda walked in on Bronson. That's all."
"No big deal," Bronson states, leaning in and running a tattooed finger along the frosting. "I was fucking. . ." He pauses, staring out into space. "What was her name?"
"Laura!" I say, smacking his hand away from the channel he's just created in the icing.
He holds his hands up. "Sorry. Yeah, the lovely Laura. Cassidy walked into the wrong room."
Max growls, but his face is somewhat amused. "Fucksake, Bronson."
"What's he done now?" Xander asks, walking towards us. He puts his arms around his big brother. "Happy Birthday, mate." The Mad Hatter and The Joker embrace, patting each other's backs and it makes for a really funny visual. Imagining the shenanigans those two characters would get up to on screen, I giggle to myself.
After releasing each other, Xander nods a hello at Max. Max scowls at Xander and then looks at me, his eyes dropping to my belly for a split second. The tension around the two brothers feels like a brewing storm. Eventually, it will either pass with time or explode into chaos. My heart falls when Max turns his back on his little brother and walks across the room to stand with his friends again.
I purse my lips while studying Xander's now tight face. "Are you and Max okay?" The words just fall out. And it must be the pregnancy because I would never usually involve myself in anything between them. Knowing Max like I do, he would be bludgeoning his fists on a boxing bag during a conversation like this. But I want to know. "Things seem. . ."
He clears his throat. "Tense." Reaching for a bottle of vodka, he pulls the cap off and gulps it straight from the neck.
Bronson stays cavalier, but there is a flicker of a flame in his opal-blue eyes. Of disapproval. Of warning. "Slow down, dickhead."
Xander takes the bottle and disappears into the crowd.
With that, I quickly fix the cake, light the candles, and then attempt to embarrass Bronson by singing him "Happy Birthday".
I should have known. . . nothing embarrasses that man.
Max joins me, and we move outside to where Toni, Flick, Stacey, and some other people are all chatting and drinking. While everyone laughs and jokes around us, I pull my attention away from them and move closer to the man beside me. He lifts his arm and I cuddle his side. My wings create a little separation between everyone else and us. I peer up at this titan of a man and see pain in his eyes. I want to ask about Xander. About this rift. It must be affecting him; I can see it right now, a kind of resentment barely masked in his grey irises.
Realising I haven't seen Xander since he disappeared with the vodka bottle, I gaze across the vast property: over the alfresco, out across the lawn, and to the boat moored on the canal. He's nowhere to be seen, causing a strange feeling to play around in my belly. I breathe in the air, which is laced with cigarette smoke, menthol, and a musky wet smell from the river. It's a warm night, but nothing is as warming as Max's arms around me.
Instead of asking questions, I just hold him and breathe deep.
Cassidy
The party is stillin full swing when Flick and I attempt to get a bit of peace and quiet. A girl dressed as Dracula's wife stops me on our way outside. "Cassidy." She touches my shoulder. "Where's the bathroom?"
I beam at her as if she's just told me how beautiful I am or how good Max and I look together. All the sweets. . . "Under the stairs" –I point– "is a powder room."
She grins. "Thanks. Great party by the way."
Eeeee!