Healing Mr. Ashford

Chapter Ten: Diagnosis

NATALIA GEORGETTE

I didn't realize how long I had been leaning against the wall until Maximo finally stood and offered me his hand. I took it without thinking, still trying to steady myself while he watched me with that familiar amusement in his eyes. I wanted to glare at him for looking so pleased with himself, but the truth was, I didn't have the energy to pretend I wasn't affected by him anymore.

We left the secluded part of the garden and continued walking until we reached a quieter overlook. The sun had already begun its descent, washing the hills of Sintra in a warm, fading light. Maximo slowed beside me, and for once, he didn't say anything. He simply stood there, his shoulder brushing mine as we watched the horizon change colors.

I found myself thinking about how strange it was that I could be standing beside the same man I had spent years trying to forget and feel completely at ease. Eight years ago, I would have given anything just to have him look at me the way he did now. Yet now that I finally had his attention, I wasn't sure what frightened me more like the possibility that he might actually mean it, or the fact that I wanted him to.

"You're quiet," he said eventually.

"I'm tired."

He gave me a knowing look. "That's not the only reason."

I looked at him and almost smiled. "You always think you know what I'm thinking."

"Not always." His voice softened. "I'm still trying to figure you out."

That caught me off guard.

"Why?"

"Because you're not the girl I remember."

I looked back at the sunset, letting his words settle somewhere deep inside me. "Neither are you."

"No?"

I shook my head. "The Maximo I knew was always surrounded by people. Everyone wanted to be around him. You were loud, confident, impossible to ignore."

"And now?"

I turned toward him. "You're still impossible to ignore."

He laughed quietly, but I noticed the way his expression softened afterward.

We stayed there until the last streaks of sunlight disappeared behind the hills. When the temperature dropped, Maximo removed his jacket and draped it over my shoulders without asking.

I looked down at it, then at him.

"You'll get cold."

"I'll survive."

I smiled despite myself.

It was such a small thing, but somehow it stayed with me as we walked toward dinner. Maybe because it wasn't about desire this time. He wasn't touching me because he wanted something. He was simply taking care of me, and that was beginning to scare me in a completely different way.

By the time we reached the restaurant, the sky outside had already turned dark, and the warmth of the evening had settled into something quieter. We sat across from each other at a small table near the window, with the soft glow of the lamps falling over the white tablecloth between us. For once, neither of us seemed in a hurry to leave.

Our conversation started with something simple. Portugal, the places we'd visited, the food I had insisted on trying, and how Maximo somehow managed to make every quiet moment feel less awkward than it should have been.

Then, somewhere between dinner and dessert, the conversation shifted.

"So, what really happened in the US?" I asked.

Maximo's expression changed slightly. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers loosely wrapped around his glass as he stared at the table for a moment.

"I thought I could build something there," he finally said. "I had a business, investors, plans. I convinced myself that if I worked hard enough, I could make it succeed."

"And it didn't?"

He gave a small shake of his head. "No. I lost almost everything."

There was no bitterness in his voice, and somehow that made his confession feel heavier.

"I used to think failure meant I wasn't good enough," he continued. "It took me a long time to understand that sometimes you can give something everything you have and still watch it fall apart. The difficult part isn't losing. It's deciding what you're going to do after you've lost."

I watched him quietly, realizing there was so much about him I had never known.

"And now?"

"Now I have to rebuild."

"The business?"

He shook his head. "The hacienda."

I blinked.

"My family's property has been struggling for years. I came back because someone has to take responsibility for it." His mouth curved into a faint, almost tired smile. "Apparently, that someone is me."

"You don't sound very excited."

"I am. I'm just realistic enough to know it's going to be difficult."

I smiled. "You always did like impossible things."

His eyes met mine.

"Maybe."

Something about the way he said it touched a part of me I had spent years trying to keep buried. For just a moment, my heart softened at the thought that maybe, despite everything that had happened between us, some things had never really changed. But before I could let myself dwell on it, Maximo's expression shifted, and that familiar teasing glint returned to his eyes.

"But I still have enough money to follow you all the way here."

I stared at him, caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief. "You followed me to Portugal because you had extra money?"

A slow smile tugged at his lips. "That sounds much more romantic than saying I had nowhere better to spend it."

I shook my head, fighting the smile threatening to betray me. "You are unbelievable."

"Maybe." He leaned back comfortably in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "But it worked. You're here with me, aren't you?"

That stupid little smile of his made it impossible for me to stay annoyed.

I reached for my glass, hoping the movement would distract me from the memory that had suddenly surfaced. The photoshoot at the Ashford Hacienda, the Binibining Masbate candidates, and that one woman I had noticed beside Maximo came rushing back, and before I could stop myself, I felt my expression tighten.

Maximo noticed immediately. "What?"

"Nothing."

He studied me for a moment, and the amusement slowly returned to his eyes. "You're pouting."

"I'm not."

"You are, and you're actually very cute when you do that. It makes me want to kiss you."

I rolled my eyes, but the warmth creeping into my cheeks betrayed me. "How was the Binibining Masbate photoshoot at your hacienda?"

For a second, Maximo simply stared at me, and then that slow, irritating smile appeared on his lips. "Are you jealous?"

I scoffed. "As if."

"I didn't even say anything."

"You didn't have to."

He leaned back, clearly enjoying himself. "So you remember the photoshoot."

"Of course I remember."

"Interesting."

I gave him a warning look. "What's interesting?"

"You were paying attention."

"I happened to see the pictures."

"Of me?"

"Of the hacienda."

His eyebrow lifted, and I immediately regretted answering so quickly. He looked entirely too pleased with himself, while I tried to convince myself that the sudden heat in my face had nothing to do with jealousy.

"Damn, Tali. You really are jealous."

"I'm not jealous, Maximo. I'm asking a question."

"Then ask."

I hesitated before finally looking at him. "Who was that woman?"

I held his gaze, trying to make my question sound casual even though, deep down, I was hoping his answer would reveal whether there was someone among those candidates who had caught his attention.

The teasing disappeared from his face. "What woman?"

"The one in the photos. The one who seemed familiar with you."

He studied me for a moment before shaking his head. "There were a lot of people there, Tali. I honestly don't know who you're talking about."

“Never mind.” I kept my expression blank, pretending the answer hadn't quietly relieved me.

"Tali."

His voice softened, and somehow that made it harder to look away.

"If there's something you want to know about me, ask. You don't have to pretend you don't care."

I fell quiet because that was exactly what I had been doing. Pretending I didn't care was easier than admitting that somewhere between Portugal, our conversations, and the way he looked at me, my feelings had started becoming something I could no longer dismiss as simple attraction.

"I just realized I don't know you anymore," I admitted quietly. "I know the Maximo I remember, but you're not that boy anymore."

A small smile touched his lips. "Then get to know the man."

The words stayed with me long after dinner ended.

When we stepped outside, the night air was cool, and Maximo reached for my hand as naturally as if he had been doing it for years. I looked down at our intertwined fingers and felt something inside me soften, because this wasn't the kind of moment I could blame on desire or nostalgia. I simply liked being beside him. I liked listening to him. I liked the way he made me laugh when I had spent weeks forgetting how.

Before we entered the hotel, he stopped and looked at me.

"What?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to look at you."

My heart gave a strange little skip, and I almost laughed at myself for noticing it.

He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss against my lips, lingering just long enough to leave me wanting another before pulling away. I watched him walk ahead, still holding my hand, and pressed my free palm against my chest.

As a doctor, I knew exactly what an abnormal heartbeat could mean.

Unfortunately, I was beginning to suspect that mine had nothing to do with medicine.