Chapter 55

Lila’s POV

By the time I got home, my head felt like it was holding too many tabs open.

I shut the door behind me and leaned on it for a second, letting the quiet wrap around me. No voices, no clacking keyboards, no ringing phones, just my apartment breathing in the evening light.

I dropped my bag onto the console table and took off my shoes, already picturing the release of sinking into the couch and letting my brain untangle itself.

Today had been too much the meeting with Drew, Kimberley’s smug little performance, the confirmation I hadn’t wanted but finally had.

That was when my phone started to ring.

I froze.

The screen lit up with a name I didn’t want to see right now.

Max.

It wasn’t that I hadn’t expected him to reach out, if anything, I knew he would, sooner or later. But not so quick, not hours after Kimberley tried to use my bait against Drew? The timing was too close, too deliberate.

My thumb hovered over the screen. I could let it ring out, buy myself time. But what if ignoring him made him suspicious? What if his reason for calling had nothing to do with today and I was just making connections where there weren’t any?

No… A voice in my head was quick to cut that thought off.

There were connections. Too many to ignore now.

I answered on the fourth ring, pressing the phone to my ear.

“Hey,” I said, my voice pitched light, casual.

“Hey,” he replied, his tone easy. Too easy. “I’m driving around your area and I thought about you. Would you mind if stopped by, that's if you’re home.”

I blinked. “I… Ehmmm, yeah. I just got back.”

“Perfect. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

He hung up before I could even say sure.

The line went dead, and I just stood there, my phone still in my hand.

My pulse started climbing, slow at first, then faster, until I could hear it in my ears.

Why is he coming here?

Was it just a drop in to maintain the image of casual friendship? Or was this the part where he started managing the fallout before it reached him?

I tried to tell myself he’d never been violent with me, but that didn’t stop the flicker of worry about what kind of person I was really dealing with. The Max I used to know wouldn’t have handed Kimberley ammunition to sabotage me or Drew. But then again, the Max I used to know wouldn’t have been capable of half the things I’d seen in the past few months.

Maybe I should grab something. Just in case.

Pepper spray, my keys, a heavy vase within reach. It sounded dramatic, but so did the idea that I could sit across from him knowing what I knew and not give myself away.

My phone was still in my hand. I considered calling someone, Drew maybe, but the thought died almost as quickly as it came. If Drew showed up now, Max would know something was wrong.

I paced once from the living room to the kitchen, inhaling deep and counting to four before exhaling to six, the way I’d learned to calm my nerves. It didn’t completely work.

The knock came before I felt ready.

Sharp.

Measured.

I smoothed my hair back, forcing my shoulders to relax. My face had to be a mask, friendly, normal, maybe even a little warm. He can’t see the shift in me. Not yet.

I opened the door.

Max stood there like nothing in the world was wrong. Jeans, a dark jacket, that crooked half smile that used to feel like the start of something charming. Now it just felt rehearsed.

“Hey,” he said, stepping in without hesitation, the faint scent of his cologne following him.

“Hey,” I echoed, shutting the door behind him. My tone was neutral, maybe a shade softer than I felt.

His gaze flicked over the room like he was cataloging details, what was out of place, what had changed since the last time he was here. I gestured toward the couch.

“Have a seat. Want something to drink?”

He looked at me for a beat, and for a second I thought he might say no, just to test me. But then he nodded. “Sure, water’s fine.”

In the kitchen, I poured the water into a tall glass, aware of the way my movements felt too deliberate. My back prickled like he was watching me, even though I knew he wasn’t in the doorway.

I carried the glass back and set it on the coffee table in front of him.

“Thanks,” he said, taking it.

I settled onto the other end of the couch, tucking one leg beneath me, my body angled slightly toward him as if this was any other visit.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, taking a sip.

“I’ve been good,” I replied, steady. “Busy with work. You know how it is.”

He nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Yeah.” He paused, long enough for me to I notice it before adding, “Speaking of work…”

I felt it before I heard it. My body tightening, my heartbeat lifting again.

His gaze locked on mine, steady and unblinking. “Did anything special happen at the office today?”

The question landed like a drop of ink in clear water, small, but enough to start clouding everything.

I smiled faintly, but my mind was already racing.