Max bends his head down a little closer to me, his eyes brimming with stark admiration. “So here you are . . . probably leading a decent, stress-free life, and all of a sudden . . . you lose your sister and gain three kids. You had to cram everyone into this little apartment, and you’re struggling to make ends meet because it’s not cheap feeding and clothing and nurturing three children. So you work your ass off, morning, noon, and night and you make things work.”

“Pretty much,” I say with a heavy fatigue because my life sure as shit isn’t easy right now.

“You’re fucking amazing,” Max says quietly and my heart seems to squeeze for one intense moment, then it relaxes into utter calm and tranquility just by having someone affirm what I’ve been doing.

“Thank you for saying that,” I murmur, appreciative of his validation and more than happy to have him holding my hand. Just that tiny bit of affirmation does wonders to help my confidence and almost makes me believe I can actually do this.

Is it bad that there’s a part of me that just wants him to lean his head a little farther toward me, and perhaps brush his lips against mine? Just a little touch?

Instead, Max releases my hand and pulls back a little, putting an easygoing smile on his face. “Okay, that’s our quota of heavy shit for the night.”

“Agreed,” I say with a smile even though my hand feels cold now that his is gone.

“So what’s the deal with that painting hanging in your room?” he asks curiously. “It’s gorgeous and I’d like to maybe get something like that for my mother. She’s really into art and collects originals.”

My face actually starts to burn and I can imagine how red my cheeks are. I duck my head reflexively in embarrassment, only to find Max’s fingers under my chin, lifting me back up.

“What?” he asks curiously, his head tilted to the side.

I have to fight to look him in the eye when I say, “Um . . . I did that.”

His hand falls away and his eyebrows shoot sky high. “You painted that?” he asks incredulously, but not in a rude way . . . more like an I’m-in-fucking-awe kind of way.

“It’s a hobby,” I mutter, feeling my cheeks burning hotter.

“That is not a hobby,” he says inflexibly. “That is some major fucking talent. Did you take classes or something?”

I shake my head. “Nothing formal. Art in high school, and just dabbled here and there.”

Max shakes his head in an amused but disbelieving way. “You are just one surprise after another.”

Okay, cheeks are now sizzling and I can’t stand it anymore so I brush him off with a forced laugh. “Well, that’s all my secrets. Now you know everything.”

Max’s lips quirk up and he shakes his head slowly again, totally not buying that for some reason. “I have a feeling you have layers upon layers, Jules. I look forward to peeling them.”

And God . . . I hope he cannot see the full body shiver he just produced from those words.

“Do you have any more paintings?” Max asks.

My eyebrows knit together. “Um . . . yeah. A few in my closet and I’ve got some stored at my dad’s house back in Fayetteville.”

“You could sell them,” Max says confidently.

“No way,” I disagree.

“Yes you could,” he says even more firmly. “In fact, I have a friend that works in a really upscale florist shop in Chapel Hill and I know he’d hang them there for sale.”

Oh, fucking no way. The thought of someone analyzing and critiquing my work? The thought of people hating it? I could never—

“Jules,” Max says in a low voice. “You could make money off that. Give up that shitty job at the gas station. Have some real money to take care of those kids.”

Okay, that catches my attention.

My voice is hesitant though when I ask, “You really think so?”

“I know so,” he says with so much belief in those words, it makes me want to believe it. “If you give me what you have here, I’ll take them over there. What do you have to lose?”

“Well . . . nothing I guess,” I say guardedly, my gaze falling to my lap.

“Jules,” Max says, and my eyes snap back. “You’re really fucking good and I’m not lying to you about that.”

I can’t help it. A rush of euphoria and hope rushes through me that maybe I can be more than what I am, which isn’t for me but for those kids, and I smile at him. “Okay, then . . . I’ll try it.”

“Excellent,” he says and then stands from the couch but not before grabbing my hand and pulling me up with him. “Let’s get those paintings then I’m going to head out so you can get a good night’s sleep.”

Crushing disappointment hits me, he’s leaving, and I realize . . . he’s got me hooked.

He’s got me fucking hooked hard and apparently all of my spouting off about this being a bad time in my life doesn’t seem to mean shit. In fact, Max has decidedly made my life if not a little better, at least rosier.

I sneak into my room so as not to wake up Annabelle and pull the picture he admired off my wall. It’s one of my favorites and I grab four more out of my closet. When I hand them to Max, who waited for me in the living room, I tell him, “I’ve got more at my dad’s house I can probably get next weekend.”

“Definitely,” he says and then turns to the door. I follow behind, again wishing he wasn’t leaving, but on the flip side looking forward to a good night’s sleep. I know I’ll have a smile on my face when I close my eyes.

Max opens the door, the paintings tucked under his other arm. He turns to face me, his eyes running over my face for just a moment as if he’s checking that I’ll be okay that without him.

I give him an encouraging smile.

He gives me one back, then leans down to me. My eyes close and I feel his lips brush against my cheek.

“Good night, Jules,” he says softly before he pulls away and disappears out my door.

Chapter 7

Max

There’s a little bell above the front door of Fleurish that chimes when I walk in. I take a quick look around, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the tables scattered about topped with massive displays of fresh flowers and plants. While Fleurish is primarily a floral shop in Chapel Hill, it also sells a variety of knickknacks and art pieces created by local artisans. I knew this would be the perfect place to see if Jules’ paintings were as good as I thought they were.