The woman who opens the door at Max Marshall’s hotel leads me to the sitting area. I place my bag at my feet and try not to fidget. This morning with Tank was the most intense thing I’ve ever experienced. He’s such a strong man. He doesn’t allow himself many moments of weakness. I’m honored and humbled that he trusts me enough to be himself with me.
Which is why I’m here. I’ve known for a while that I can’t take money from Tank’s father. Not just because of how I feel about him but because of how I feel about Claire. How I feel about Finn. In just a short time, his family has become my family. I care about them.
I won’t profit from something that hurts them.
But Max was my friend first. Even though I’m shocked and horrified by the things he’s done in the past, I still can’t help but hope that he’s changed. Telling him that I can’t help him in person is the right thing to do.
I glance at my cell phone to see what time it is. I meant to come at lunchtime but things were so busy at work today that I had to wait until I got off. If I don’t get back to his place soon, Tank will worry.
“Emma!” Max wheels himself into the room. “What brings you by on such a lovely day? You should be out enjoying the sunshine.”
“Hi, Mr. Marshall. Sorry for just dropping by. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”
“Nothing important. I’m always happy to see you.”
He seems so genuinely pleasant. I watch him, looking for signs of greed or dishonesty. There's nothing to indicate that he isn't exactly what he seems: an eccentric billionaire who's pleasantly surprised by my visit. But after spending time with Tank, I have to wonder. I've gotten to know him. I've gotten to know Claire. She isn't the dramatic or overindulgent type. She wouldn't make up a sob story for attention or to gain sympathy.
The pain I've witnessed in their family is real and there's simply no denying that Maxwell Marshall is the cause of it.
“The reason I’m here is to tell you that I can’t help you. With Tank. I like him. A lot, actually. I won’t manipulate him. He’s had enough of that in his life.”
He watches me with unwavering eyes. “He told you, didn’t he? That I left them.”
“Yes, sir. It was hard for them. And I understand why he doesn’t want to open himself up to a relationship that could end up hurting him again.”
He looks sad but not surprised. “I can’t say I’m not disappointed but I understand. You’re a good person. I can see why my son cares for you.”
I think back to this morning. Waking up with Tank. Talking about everything. The thing is, it’s all so intense because a lot has happened over a short period of time. But I’m worried that this kind of intensity can’t last. It comes on fast and burns bright but it can burn out just as quickly.
“I think your son is an amazing person. But we haven’t known each other that long. And I know he doesn’t trust easily.”
He makes a sound of disagreement. “He trusts you. He doesn’t take just anyone home to meet his mother.”
I figured that was true by the way Claire and Finn responded to me. They’d seemed happy to meet me but also surprised. Suddenly it occurs to me that I never told Mr. Marshall about meeting his ex-wife. My eyes narrow. There’s only one way he could have possibly known that.
“You’ve been watching him, haven’t you? Does he know that you’ve been spying on him?”
“I’m a billionaire, my dear. And I have enemies.”
“How long have you been watching over him?”
“Years. But he doesn’t need to know that.”
Again, I have the sense of being forced into the middle of a conflict between them. If I don’t say anything, it feels like I’m deliberately deceiving Tank. But what would telling him accomplish? It’ll only make him angry and he’s already so angry.
I don’t want to make any promises that I can’t keep so I lean down to grab my bag. “I need to get back.”
“Thank you, Emma.”
It shouldn’t make me feel guilty but it does. Why is he thanking me? I’m essentially telling him that he’s on his own now.
“For what? I didn’t do anything.”
He gives me a sad smile. “Yes, you did. Sometimes the choices we don’t make are even more important than the ones we do.”
Before I have a chance to question that strange statement, he wheels himself to the desk against the wall. “Will you read some documents for me before you go? My eyesight isn’t what it once was.”
This I can handle. Despite knowing that his desertion devastated his family, I can’t help my soft spot for him. I want to believe that he’s as nice as he’s always seemed but it’s not my place to decide if he’s really sorry or if he’s really changed his ways. He’ll have to earn his family’s forgiveness, little by little.