Page 28 of BillionHeir
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Chloe
“Well, I guess I will be seeing you,” I say, taking one last glance at Maxwell before we exit the plane.
“I have a car waiting for me. Let me take you wherever you are going.”
“Actually, my mum is picking me up,” I fib. She would be here if she could, but she is still in the hospital with another full day of doctors and tests.
Maxwell will not be deterred. “Please? I can take you both.”
“Honestly, Maxwell,” I say, frustrated.
“I am sorry. I just want to make sure that you are taken care of.”
His admission cuts right through my anger and pierces my heart that I spent the entire flight guarding. I swore to myself that once we got off the airplane, I was going to put Maxwell Banks in the past. But he is clearly on a mission to do everything he can to work his way back in.
I straighten my back, drawing on all the strength I have.
“I can take care of myself.”
“I know,” he says quietly.
The line of passengers in front of me blessedly starts to move and we disembark the plane. I wish that was where we were able to go our separate ways, but instead, we are stuck standing in line at customs. He awkwardly shoots me desperate glances as I try my best to avoid them.
We are eventually split into two lines, one for citizens of the UK and one for international travelers.
I speak with a grumpy yet efficient woman who lets me through after a series of questions that seem unnecessary.
When there is no sign of Maxwell on the other side, I breathe a sigh of relief.
I am quite sure that his line was moving slower than mine, so I hustle to baggage claim with the hopes of grabbing my bag and getting a ride before I run into him again.
I jog up to the nearly empty carousel with energy I didn’t know I had left in me. I am just in time to see my purple suitcase rounding the corner. As I reach out to grab it, I sigh with relief that I still haven’t seen Maxwell.
“Let me,” Maxwell’s smooth voice says from behind me, extending his arm and grabbing my bag effortlessly off the conveyor belt before I can, gently setting it on the ground and extending the handle for me.
“Where is your mom?”
The airport is not all that busy right now, honestly. There are no real crowds for me to disappear into. Sure, there are people milling around as one does at an airport, but there is no way I am going to be able to give Maxwell the slip.
“I am sure she will be along any moment now.” I make a show out of getting out my phone and tapping the screen, pretending to text my mum as I try to order myself a car.
Usually there is someone just around the corner, but this time it seems every car in the area is going a different direction.
At this rate, who knows how long it will take before I can be picked up.
“I can take you anywhere you want. Really, it is no problem. My driver is waiting right outside.” He gestures to a large black SUV idling at a curb where I am certain it is not legal to park.
I look back at my phone where the rideshare app still shows a rotating loading icon and resign myself to my fate.
“Looks like she is caught in traffic,” I say without much conviction.
“Perfect,” Maxwell says with a look of victory on his face .
I think he knew that I invented the story about my mum coming to pick me up. I feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment at being so transparent.
“I mean,” he says, trying to backpedal. “Not that it is perfect for your mother to be in traffic.”
“Of course,” I say, pulling my suitcase behind me as I walk toward the waiting car.
Maxwell takes hold of his small suitcase that he brought with him on the plane and follows closely behind. The driver hops out of the car when he sees us and quickly sets about loading our luggage into the boot as we settle into the backseat.
“Where can I take you, madam?” he asks from the front as we finally pull away from the curb.
I tell him the address of the hospital my mum is staying at here in London. The driver’s brows scrunch with concern, but he says nothing as he nods in confirmation.
I look over at Maxwell, worried that he is going to ask questions about where we are going. But if he has any, he doesn’t ask.
We ride along in silence for a while before Maxwell finally speaks.
“I am going to be here for a while. This is a bit awkward, since we have already gotten to know each other so well, but can I have your number? ”
I can’t quite put my finger on what it is, but in the time we have spent together since getting on the plane, there has been something different about Maxwell.
The uncertain, pleading look on his face seems new, even to him.
I have seen this man in all manner of moods, from unimaginable pain to overwhelming ecstasy, but this is something else entirely.
He is more vulnerable than I have ever seen him.
I consider his question a moment longer. We do know each other quite well. I mean, I have helped the man shower. But even more than that, we have slept together. It doesn’t get much more intimate than that, does it? The least I can do is give him my phone number. What could be the harm in that?
“It is a little strange that we don’t have each other’s number, isn’t it?” I ask.
He chuckles to himself as a look of relief comes over to his face. I am not that scary, am I?
He pulls his phone from his pocket and hands it to me. I type my number into it and call myself. When a new number flashes across the screen of my own phone, I hang up.
“There,” I say, typing his name into my phone and saving his contact information even if I don’t have any intention of using it.
As far as I am concerned, the time we spent together was rather special to me, but it is over now.
He made that perfectly clear to me in Maine.
I honestly don’t know why he is going to all this trouble for me .
He taps out a message on his phone and mine vibrates with a notification.
“Now you have my number if you need anything.”
I smile sadly. There is no way that I am ever going to ask him for help. Our relationship is over now. I couldn’t bear asking him for a favor after everything that has happened between us.
The car slows to a stop outside a nondescript gray building. If you weren’t from here, you might not know what this place is, which is what I am banking on right now.
I haven’t told Maxwell about my mother, and I don’t intend to. I don’t want his pity or dutiful kindness. I would rather we part this way instead.
“This is me,” I say quietly, gathering my purse as the driver puts the SUV in park and gets out to help with my luggage.
“I wish we had more time.”
Maxwell looks out the window at the building, but from here, there is no clue that we are in front of a hospital. I am grateful that the driver pulled up here and not in front of A&E.
“Thank you for . . .” I pause searching for the right word. This could be the last time I talk to him for all I know. “Everything.”
Maxwell gives me a look like he wants to respond, but before he can, I open my door and step out of the vehicle to promptly end any discussion that might have taken place.
Of course that isn’t the end of it .
I try to push the door closed behind me, but he catches it with his hand. He climbs out after me and follows me around to the back of the SUV where the driver has left my suitcase waiting for me.
Maxwell frowns in frustration, no doubt curious about where we are and what we are doing here. It is obvious he wants to ask, but good manners keep him from prying.
“Well, I suppose this is goodbye, isn’t it?” I say finally.
Maxwell’s frown deepens. He closes the distance between us and pulls me in for a brief hug, then releases me and walks back to his door.
“This is not goodbye,” he says just before the door closes.
I stand there alone on the sidewalk, watching as the driver pulls away. I wait until they are out of sight before reaching up and wiping the tears that are streaming down my face.
I turn and face the hospital, taking a deep breath to balance and center myself. I need to be strong for my mum. No more of this crying-over-a-man business.
First, I find the loo and clean myself up. I wash my hands and face, then run my fingers through my hair a bit. I don’t want her to think that I am too tired to take care of her.
Once I am presentable, I go to the reception desk in search of the woman I love more than anyone else in the world.
* * *
“I am so glad you have been here with me today. ”
My mother gives me a warm smile from her hospital bed. She is happy to see me, but there is no hiding the exhaustion written all over her face. It kills me to see her this way.
“There is nowhere I would rather be,” I answer, honestly.
“I am sorry you came all this way just to be stuck here with me in this place.” She rolls her eyes at her predicament, bringing some levity to the situation.
“Don’t worry about it, mum. I will check into my hotel when visiting hours are over. Until then, I don’t mind sitting here with you. You should try to rest while you can.”
“Who is the mother here?” she asks playfully, even through her fatigue.
“I think you forget, my dear mother, that this is what I do.”
“Do you boss all of your patients like this?” she asks behind a yawn, still trying to fight me even as she struggles to hold her eyes open.
I smile politely at her cheeky jab, but my mind immediately goes to my most recent and most obstinate patient ever. I try to push all thoughts of Maxwell to the back of my mind as I stand from my seat.
“Only the ones I love the very most,” I respond, leaning down and wrapping her in a gentle hug.
She chuckles softly as she wraps her thin arms around my neck .
“Oh, my darling,” she says, still holding me. “I have missed this.”
Tears spring to my eyes. “Me, too. I love you, mum.”
“I love you, too.”
I can feel the warmth of her hug long after her eyes drift closed and the quiet sound of her steady breathing is the only sound in the room. Once visiting hours are over, I am forced to retreat to my bland hotel room across the street.
It is weird to be back here with her after so long.
It has been a heavy day, and the limited results we got back from all the laboratory tests were not the best. I was optimistic that the doctors would have a hopeful course of action, but that isn’t the case so far.
With my mother’s age and the fact that the cancer is back for the second time, I am afraid there aren’t all that many options for her.
And the ones that are available are quite pricey.
But I can afford the treatments after the fortune Maxwell paid me.
If it comes to it, I will spend it all for her.