Postcards From…Verses Brides Babies And Billionaires. Rebecca Winters

sent Maddy away?” she said, her voice rising on a high note of incredulity.

      “I found a way for her to dance again.”

      “In another country. And then you told her not to come back?” Charlotte’s face was creased with confusion. “Why would you do that to yourself when you love her so much?”

      He threw the file onto his workbench.

      “You saw what she was like. She was brokenhearted about having to retire. I found her a second chance to do something she loved.”

      Charlotte sank into a chair. “My God. I always knew you had a Sir Galahad complex, but this takes the cake.”

      “I wanted her to be happy,” he said defensively.

      “I got that, you noble idiot. Did you at least tell her how you felt before she left?”

      He looked at her but said nothing.

      Charlotte swore loud and long. “Max! Are you telling me you packed Maddy off and you never said a word to her about how you feel?”

      His continued silence was answer enough. Charlotte shot to her feet, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation.

      “All this time I’ve been angry with Maddy for abandoning you, and she was the one I should have felt sorry for. Why didn’t you say something to her before she left, Max?”

      “There was no point.”

      “Why?”

      “Because I know how she feels. I’ve always known how she feels.”

      Charlotte closed her eyes and made a sound like a kettle boiling.

      “You are such a…man!”

      “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      “You have no idea how Maddy feels.”

      “I’ve known her for ten years. I know exactly how she feels.”

      “No, you don’t. You think you know, but you don’t, because you never asked her. You never told her how you feel, and you never asked her how she feels.”

      “It wouldn’t have made any difference,” he said stubbornly.

      Charlotte stepped close and grabbed his arm, her eyes intense as they bored into him. “You don’t know that.”

      He stared at her, and she shook his arm.

      “You sent her to Amsterdam without telling her you didn’t want her to go. How do you think she must have felt, Max? First you find her a job thousands of miles away, then you drive her to the airport and tell her not to bother coming back. My God. Even if she didn’t love you she must have felt as though she’d overstayed her welcome.”

      For the first time he considered what had happened from Maddy’s point of view. She’d been thrilled about the new role with the Nederlands Dans Theatre. He knew he was right about that. But she’d spoken about him visiting her in Amsterdam. And she’d wanted to come back to Paris to sort things out with him.

      What if his sister was right? What if he’d pushed Maddy away when he should have been pulling her close? What if he’d been so busy giving her what he thought she wanted and protecting himself that he’d destroyed his one chance at happiness?

      “I’ve spent so long believing it would never happen between us I couldn’t see any other way forward,” he finally admitted.

      “Call her.”

      He shook his head. There were things he needed to say that couldn’t be said over a phone. He needed to see her in person, to look into her eyes.

      “She’s coming for the show at the end of the month,” he said.

      “You could fly over and see her before then. After you spend about a week in the shower detoxing and de-fleaing yourself.”

      “No.”

      An idea was forming. He reached for his diary, flicking through the pages. There was almost enough time. Hell, he’d make the time if he had to.

      “Max…”

      “No. There’s something I want to do first. Something I need to do,” he said.

      It was an idea he’d had for a while, something that had been tickling at the back of his mind ever since he finished the last model for his full-size bronzes. A smaller piece. An intensely personal, private piece to complete the series.

      He crossed to his workbench, started assembling the materials he’d need.

      “Here we go. The mad genius at work,” Charlotte said.

      He barely heard her. He was too gripped by what he needed to do. Somehow, he needed to show Maddy how he felt, to make her understand. If he was going to declare himself, he was going to do it right.

      MADDY CHECKED her lipstick for the fourth time as the taxi turned into the narrow streets leading to Place de Vosges. She was nervous. No point kidding herself. She had no idea how she was going to handle seeing Max again.

      She’d spoken to him exactly three times since the night he’d told her not to return to Paris. He’d called to let her know when her things would be arriving, then she’d called him to ask about Eloise, concerned the little girl was missing her dancing lessons. She needn’t have bothered—Max had already stepped in to take her place and he’d reported Eloise was thriving.

      The last time they’d spoken he’d invited her to his show. It had been awkward between them. She hadn’t known what to ask, where to start. The same question kept bubbling up inside her, begging for release.

      Did it mean so little to you? Do I mean so little to you?

      She tightened her grip on her purse as the cab rolled to a stop. She’d already pulled a twenty-euro note from her wallet and she handed it over then slid from the car.

      Warm spring air danced around her calves as she slowly walked along the elegant, covered walkway of Place des Vosges. More than any other part of Paris it reminded her of the Hollywood ideal of a European setting—a huge square bordered on four sides by identical brick buildings, all uniformly five stories high, all in red brick. The square in the middle had been nothing but gravel and stark, bare trees when she left. Tonight, it was filled with Parisians enjoying the warm weather, picnicking on the grass, studying, kissing, laughing beneath arching green trees.

      She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed Paris until the taxi had hit the old center and she’d caught her first glimpse of cobblestones. Max lived here. That was why she loved it. Paris was the city where she’d fallen in love.

      There were several galleries facing the Place des Vosges, but only one was filled with elegantly dressed people sipping champagne.

      Max’s opening. She was full of so many different emotions she felt she might overflow. Pride, love, hurt—she didn’t know where one ended and the other began.

      Her high heels tapped on the stone walkway as she made her way to the gallery entrance. She couldn’t see anyone she knew—Charlotte, Richard, Max—and she tried to calm herself. The gallery interior was stark white with high arched ceilings, all the better to show off the art, she guessed. There were so many people present she couldn’t see Max’s work, and she started to move into the crowd, determined to see at last the fruits of their time together.

      She’d sat for him for hours in the end. When he told her he’d been offered a show, she’d wondered what his work would be like. If he had used her as his model, or if he’d found someone else. Yvette, or another dancer.

      “Maddy. There you are!”

      She turned to see Charlotte bearing down on her, arms wide, a glass of champagne in one hand.

      “You look gorgeous, as always,” Charlotte said, holding Maddy’s hands out to the side so she could inspect her deep red velvet