I still can’t decide which one I like better.

“If you need help with the kids, you only need to ask,” Olivia says. “Garrett and I will watch them.”

“Me too,” Stevie says. “I am an absolute child whisperer and I am way more fun than Olivia and Garrett.”

Olivia snorts but doesn’t contradict him.

I huff out a frustrated breath. “It’s not just finding time away from the kids. It’s finding time period. I’ve got to make a certain amount of money to give them what they need and pay my bills, and that means work, work, work.”

“Max told Garrett how worried he is about you,” Olivia murmurs.

“He did?” I ask curiously. Because I didn’t really think men talked about stuff like that.

Olivia nods. “He cares about you a great deal, Jules. Even if he hadn’t told Garrett, who told me, it’s plain to see.”

“I care about him too,” I say softly, my heart squeezing in absolute abandon when I think about Max and how much he’s come to mean to me.

“You should just marry him,” Stevie quips. “He’s rich as all get out and you wouldn’t have to work.”

I snort, as does Olivia, and I don’t take him seriously. I think Stevie and Olivia have figured out I’m not a gold digger since part of my story to Stevie earlier included telling them about the loan Max gave me and how I insisted on paying him back from each painting.

“I just wish I could give him more of myself,” I say glumly. My true fear is that Max will get tired of waiting for me to give him more.

“Well, if your paintings keep selling the way they are, you could potentially give up your other job and that would free up time,” Stevie says.

And he’s not lying about that. He quickly sold the ones that Max originally bought him and I’ve been working my ass off over the last four weeks and my art has been selling as fast as I’m producing it. Stevie had reached out to some other trendy business shops in the area and three of them are also stocking my work.

On top of that, Stevie told me today that a friend of his that’s a gallery owner wants to talk to me about putting together a collection to possibly show next spring, which means more painting.

But even if I could make enough to sell just on my artwork alone, I’m not sure I would do that. I mean, I love my job. I love working with the elderly. I think it’s my calling.

So if I keep my job at Sweetbrier, and I keep painting, and the kids being my first priority, where exactly does that put Max?

Once again, at the bottom, and that weighs heavily on me, because not only is that not fair to him, but damn it. . . it’s not fair to me either. I think I deserve something too, right?

“I don’t know how to make it all work,” I say with a voice heavy with sadness. Or is that self-pity?

“Look,” Olivia says from her pedi chair beside me, and I crane my neck to look at her. “Maybe you find the compromise in there. Your art is selling well and you’re making good money now. Maybe you could go part-time at Sweetbrier to free up your schedule.”

I blink at her, but then my lips curl upward. That’s not a bad idea at all. I could totally cut my hours back at Sweetbrier, as long as I was secure enough in myself that I could keep selling my art. That way I could continue to do a job I love, continue my art, and then have more time for Max and the kids.

A sudden wave of jubilation sweeps through me and I grin big at Olivia. “You know . . . that could work. I mean . . . I’d have to run numbers on what I could make with the paintings, but that could work.”

Of course, I’d want to talk to Max about it and see what he thought. I trust his advice over anyone’s and I know he’d never steer me wrong. Most importantly, Max knows how important it is to me to do things on my own without any handouts, so he’ll help me analyze the situation.

I cannot wait to get back to the apartment and talk to him about this.

I’m practically skipping down the hall to my second floor apartment. As I pass by Glenda and Bill’s apartment, I hear them in there yelling at each other, but even that can’t dampen my mood.

Knowing that Max is just on the other side of that door, and that I’ll see his face, and yes . . . I’ll even kiss it and it doesn’t matter if the kids see it or not.

Knowing that perhaps I’ve found a way to give me more time with that man.

I turn the knob and push the door open, only to find Max waiting for me just inside the doorway, and the look on his face causes every happy feeling within me to vanish and a pit to form in my stomach.

“What’s wrong?” I whisper, my heart galloping frantically as I brace for bad news. I can see it written all over his face. “Where are the kids?”

“Their father is here,” Max says gravely, and my knees almost buckle.

“What?” I ask in astonishment, my purse slipping from my shoulder and falling to the floor.

“He’s got them down in the complex playground,” he says, and I immediately spin toward the door, for some reason panicked that he’s with them and not within my sight.

“Relax, Jules,” Max says softly as his hands come to my shoulder and he turns me around. “I made him give me his car keys and wallet before I let him take them down there. He suggested it to the kids and they were so excited to see him, and I didn’t think I had the right to say no.”

I nod in understanding but my head is buzzing from trying to take it all in. And yeah . . . I could see why Max felt uncomfortable in denying Dwayne’s request to take the kids out to play, but totally impressed with his quick thinking to get his keys and wallet. Not that Dwayne would kidnap the kids. He’s not stupid.

Just completely unreliable and an overall douche for abandoning them and their mother.

“What does he want?” I whisper fearfully.

“I don’t know,” Max says. “Caught me off guard. Was waiting outside your door when I got here. The kids immediately ran to him, but I had him come inside for a while to talk. He seems chill, and says he just wanted to spend some time with them. But I honestly don’t know what his agenda is, baby.”

“I need to go talk to him,” I murmur, although it’s the last thing I want to do.

“Want me to come with you?” Max asks, his hands skimming up to either side of my neck and his face leaning in to me.