Page 57 of It's a Wonderful Knife

She wrinkled her brow. “No?”

“I’m trying so hardnotto be myself.”

Concern touched her gaze. “Is it a strain?”

“Sometimes.” I sipped my coffee. “Who wants to have to change, right? I was one thing for so long, it’s a struggle to be different now.”

“You and Royce are okay, right?” she asked softly.

I raised my brows. “Of course.”

“You had me worried.”

I frowned. “Why?”

She avoided my gaze and put a good deal of attention into picking a cookie from the plate on the table. She seemed torn between a gingerbread cookie with icing or a chocolate chip oatmeal. “I hated it when you two were broken up. It was awful to watch.”

“Oh, well, we’re great now.”

“But if the strain of not… being you… gets to be too much…”

“I mean, it’s notthatbig of a strain. Change is never easy, right?” I shrugged. “But easy or hard, I’ll do whatever it takes to be with Royce.”

She smiled. “That was actually really romantic, Max.”

“Was it?”

“Yep.” She seemed to relax. “You really do love him.”

“Of course I do. Would I still be rebuilding my clinic if I didn’t?”

She laughed. “No. You absolutely wouldn’t. That’s one good thing about you being you, Max. When you make a decision, it’s because you want to. You’re not fake.”

I sighed. “I’m trying to be faker though. It seems that’s what people want.”

“Not me.” She smiled at me over her mug. “I like you just the way you are.”

I jumped when River and Lucas appeared beside us like unholy specters.

“Mind if we join you?” River asked, winking at me.

“Uh…”

“He looks absolutely thrilled at the prospect,” Lucas said dryly.

“Ooh, gingerbread cookies,” River said, ignoring his pal. He helped himself to several of the baked goods, setting them carefully on a paper plate. “So, how are you holding up, Max?”

“I’m holding up just fine.”

“This is a stressful time.” River bit into his cookie.

“Of course, someone has been murdered.” I shifted uneasily. Why had he come over to me? He didn’t usually bother engaging me in conversation unless Royce was with me. Even at his clinic, we mostly ignored each other, unless Royce dropped by to see me. Then suddenly River was there, all smiles and fluttering eyelashes.

“Does Royce have any ideas who the murderer is?” River asked casually.

“I don’t know.”

He laughed. “You don’t know? Come on, Royce has no secrets from you.”