not.
The crowd parted before Max, people smiling and watching him avidly as he passed. Without even seeing his work Maddy understood that he was a hit. People watched him as if he was a star, a somebody.
Then a man stepped to one side and she saw the first sculpture—a ballerina arching forward in a perfect arabesque, the muscles of her slim frame straining. Her face was lifted, her expression serene, as though she was exactly where she needed to be.
The detail in the piece was extraordinary—the curve of the dancer’s naked breasts, the texture of curls between her thighs, the hollow beneath her armpit, the lines around her mouth and eyes. For a second Maddy fell victim to a wave of acute self-consciousness. This was her naked body, her face, depicted so faithfully, in such detail. This was so much more than what she’d imagined when she’d agreed to model for Max. He’d captured her forever. And then the self-consciousness was washed away as awe at his skill, at his power, swept over her.
“She’s beautiful,” she said, overwhelmed by Max’s talent. “I almost feel as though she’s about to move.”
“She’s you, Maddy,” he said quietly. He tugged on her hand. “There’s more.”
He led her to the next dancer, caught forever in the middle of a pirouette. Maddy looked into her own face, cast in bronze, the expression there a mixture of pain and joy.
“Do I really look like that when I dance?” she asked him.
“Yes. When you danced for me.”
The next figure was a dying swan, the dancer languishing at their feet in despair. Then there was a dancer executing a grand plié, and finally a seated posture, the ballerina contemplating her sore feet as she slipped off her shoes in a quiet moment.
“Well, those are definitely my bent toes,” she said drily. “When did you do this sketch?”
“When you weren’t looking. I wanted a quiet, private moment.”
He’d found it. She was blown away by the beauty and energy and fineness of his work. Blown away, also, by the fact that all the dancers were her. He hadn’t used Yvette or anyone else.
Max was watching her expectantly and she realized that there was one last sculpture remaining, a smaller figure placed beyond the adult dancers.
She took a step forward. Then her hand went to her mouth as she understood what she was looking at.
A little girl stood there, one hand on the barre, her feet turned out, the other hand raised over her head in a graceful arc. The little girl’s head was tilted so she could follow the line of her raised hand with her eyes, and the look on her face was pure joy, the expression of a little soul who had found her calling in life.
Maddy’s eyes filled with tears.
“I thought I was finished when I’d cast the first six. But then I realized that I wasn’t,” he said.
“How did you…?” The resemblance to her four-year-old self was uncanny.
“You had a picture in your room a long time ago,” he said.
“And you remembered?”
He nodded. She studied the figure and a slow understanding dawned on her.
She saw the deep, abiding love that was evident in every line of the figure and the hollowness that she’d carried inside her for three months evaporated as she turned to look at Max. He couldn’t have made this sculpture and not feel something more than friendship for her. It simply wasn’t possible. Surely…?
He was holding something in his hands, and she frowned as she recognized it.
“My scarf,” she said stupidly.
“Maddy, I’ve been wanting to say this to you for a long time. Ten years, in fact. I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I met you. I’ve loved you every minute since. This scarf…well, frankly, I stole it so I could have something to remember you by. But I’m giving it back tonight because I’d rather have you.”
For a moment all she could do was stare at him. What he was saying changed her world. Changed everything. Their shared history. Her present. Her future. She blinked, trying to come to terms with what she’d just heard.
Max had always loved her. Always. When they were living together. When they were dancing together. When he was offering her comfort and solace.
All that time he’d loved her.
Suddenly she noticed how tight his jaw was, how square his shoulders were. Tension emanated from every muscle. He was waiting for her, waiting for her reaction. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry she was so touched by how uncertain he was.
“Max,” she said. She had no words for the feeling expanding in her chest. Shaking her head at her inability to articulate her emotions, she settled for reaching up and holding his face as she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. His hands found her face, and they pressed their mouths together in an intense, fierce meeting of souls.
Finally she broke the kiss and looked up into his face, just inches from hers.
“Max, I love you, too. I’ve spent the past three months living without you and I never want to be that unhappy again in my life.”
For a heartbeat Max stared into her face. She saw how deep the doubt went in him, and it almost broke her heart as she understood how hard it must have been for him to love her for so long without any acknowledgment from her.
Then his eyes cleared and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“Maddy,” he said. He kissed her, his tongue sliding into her mouth, his body pressing against hers, his hands sliding into her hair to hold her steady so he could drink his fill of her.
They broke the kiss to stare at each other again. Maddy found herself smiling the same goofy, slightly bemused smile that Max was smiling.
“I thought you sent me away because you were sick of me,” she said.
“I sent you away because I wanted you to be happy, to have what you wanted,” he said.
“I wanted you. Only you. The chance to dance again was a nice surprise, a lovely chance for me to say goodbye to a part of my life. But you’re my future, Max.”
His smile broadened into a grin as he absorbed her words and he pulled her into his arms, lifted her and spun her in a circle. He was about to kiss her again when the sound of a clearing throat alerted them to the fact that they had an audience.
They glanced up, registering for the first time the circle of interested art lovers surrounding them. Charlotte stepped forward, one eyebrow raised.
“I think the Americans have a phrase for this, yes?” she said. “Get a room? Is that it?”
Max threw back his head and laughed. It was the best sound Maddy had ever heard in her life, but suddenly tears were squeezing from beneath her eyelids and running down her face. Max’s smile faded and he reached out to cup her cheek.
“Maddy, don’t
