Grace’s POV
Max’s apartment surprised me. No sleek bachelor pad—instead, warm colors, actual bookshelves, framed art that wasn’t just expensive for the sake of it. It felt like a home. It was lovely.
I had accepted Max’s invitation. Helena was out tonight and Hunter was working late again. I hadn’t wanted dinner alone again in Hunter and Helena’s big house.
“Wine?” he asked, already moving to the kitchen.
“Please.” I followed, watching him select a bottle. Everything about him was confident, easy. He knew who he was.
I wished I could say the same.
“You’re thinking too hard again,” Max said, handing me a glass. His smile was genuine, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I can practically see the gears turning.”
I laughed, the sound rusty. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” He clinked his glass
