I cleared my throat, trying to push out the words. “Because I honestly didn’t believe someone like you could really ever love someone like me. It’s just like you’d said; I didn’t feel I deserved it. I wasn’t good enough. Not for you or anything.” But that didn’t mean I didn’t want him or the life I’d dreamed of.

“You should’ve trusted me,” he fumed.

Every single woman who’d been part of that book had come forward, saying they’d been paid off by B&H, arranged through Nancy Little, to severely exaggerate their stories. At what point she’d decided to approach C.C.’s competitor, no one knew, but all that would come out in litigation. Likely. But she had to have lost her marbles to go after him with such a vengeance, and what better way to do it than blow up C.C.’s reputation and devalue his company completely. B&H could then make a play to buy up all of their assets, including their factory and patents, for pennies on the dollar. It was such a deal, baby.

Only Max had a plan to blow it all up and get the truth out there. He’d been armed and ready, already knowing everything B&H and Nancy Little were up to. His mother, however, seemed like a curveball. Still, he’d had it all handled. And then I ruined everything by telling Nancy how he’d lied and only pretended to care about me. I hadn’t accepted the money from her, so that created enough public doubt. Me against two women who’d put their stories into a book, only to suspiciously recant in the eleventh hour. It made it look like they’d been threatened by Maxwell Cole to recant, and I was the only one telling the truth. But I hadn’t. I had assumed the worst, erroneously.

Max had no choice but to come out with his very, very private truth, because once the ball started rolling, he couldn’t fix the damage I’d created. He could only hope to lessen it.

“So why did you sell C.C.?” I asked.

He shrugged. “It was the only rational choice.”

“I read the articles and blog posts and…there was no reason to fold, Max.”

He’d come out to the public right after my accident, and he’d told the truth. About me, about his phobia, and about everything. He held nothing back, including pointing out the fact that I was right to have believed he’d betrayed me. He literally cried on TV, not a sob or a bawl, but a very touching manly sort of teary-eyed speech apologizing to me, to his customers for hiding his painful truth, and to his employees for letting them down. I’d never seen anything so heart wrenching and inspiring than this man standing in front of the world, telling women not to listen to anyone who tells them they’re not good enough because they weren’t born airbrushed. He closed with saying that he truly loved me and that the press’s behavior was a new low for humanity. “A woman is worth so much more than her looks, and Lily Snow is proof of that. She put her pride aside to help me because she cared. And I find that truly beautiful.”

I had cried my eyes out watching that video on the Internet, but knowing he announced the sale of his company to some Canadian corporation with an office across town, that he would be giving it all up, broke what was left of my heart.

“I had one very good reason to sell C.C., Lily. You were right; my mother is toxic, and her willingness to hurt you was proof there could be no good in maintaining any connection with her.”

“I thought going public would solve that,” I said.

“I was fooling myself. She’d still be a major shareholder. She’d still be in my life. I want nothing to do with her. She’s done enough damage to you, me, my family—especially my sister, who I am now searching for.”

So…was he saying he would’ve sold either way? I suppose I should’ve felt some sort of relief from knowing that, but I didn’t. At the end of the day, I hadn’t put my trust in him when I should’ve. I made a huge mess. The only silver lining out of the whole thing was that he might get his sister back.

He continued, “I never should’ve traded ambition for what was right: being there for my sister and getting the hell away from my mother.”

God, I couldn’t argue with that. If not for his sister’s sake, then for his own. He probably would never be quite right, but he’d get better if he put some distance between himself and the problem.

“Did she really make you have plastic surgery when you were thirteen?” I asked. In his press conference, he didn’t give much detail other than to say his “obstacles stemmed from some extreme circumstances growing up.” Of course, I knew his mother had the same phobia as he did, and I also knew from Dr. Bloomfield how long ago he’d done Max’s nose—that perfect, straight beautiful nose. It had been twenty years ago and that would’ve put Max at thirteen. His sister had gotten hers done, too, at fourteen.

“Her quest for perfection was a very big part of my childhood, but I’ve moved past it now. And I want to keep it that way.” Meaning, he didn’t want to talk about it.

“I’m sorry, Max. I’m really, really sorry.” I’d already retracted everything publically, but it didn’t matter. The press seemed more focused on the B&H part of the story now. The executives were probably going to be indicted for fraud. “I can’t say it enough.”

“None of it matters now,” he said. “C.C. is sold—all essential personnel are being moved over to their new home and the others are enjoying generous severance packages—I can let my mother fight in the courts with B&H, and you’re alive. It’s over. And I’m out.”

“What will you do?” Not that he was broke. The press said he’d gotten a tidy sum for the company, shared with his mother of course, but now I knew the truth: This was never about the money for him. He was a man who loved living and wasn’t afraid of challenges. He loved to push people to their fullest potential and believed in being genuine. What you saw was what you got. No bullshit. Just…beautiful. Inside and out.

“I haven’t decided yet,” he said.

“Max, I know you have no reason to forgive me or want to let me back in your life—not after you trusted me so implicitly—but you have to recognize that I was right about one thing: I am absolutely not and never will be good enough for you. You are completely amazing and strong and such an ass and you should’ve told me what you were doing or called me when the shit hit the fan, but nevertheless, I’m sure you had your reasons, which now, knowing you as I do, had to have been because you didn’t want to drag me into all this and you were trying to insulate me because that’s just the sort of guy you are.” I drew a sharp breath, pausing my rushed words. “But I am begging you to give me another chance. I’ll do whatever you want, go anywhere you want, say anything you need to hear, but please, please forgive me, Max. I honestly love you. And I have since the moment you looked at me. Really looked at me.”

I waited for his reply, but all I got was a view of that pulsing jaw, that large hand running through his messy hair, and the other hand parked on his waist.

God, how could I have let that fucking ugly voice inside my head tell me so many lies about him? How had I allowed myself to ignore my heart?

“Thanks for coming by,” he finally said, giving nothing away and glancing at his watch, “but I’ve got to meet with my lawyers to settle a few remaining loose ends.”

Body language says a lot, more than words ever could, and his said he didn’t want anything to do with me. Full circle.

We ended exactly where we started: Maxwell Cole was repulsed by me. Only this time, it wasn’t because of my face and I couldn’t argue.

I held back my tears—not for my pride, but for him. He didn’t deserve to feel bad for rejecting me. He really didn’t.

“Goodbye, Max. And thank you for everything.” Thank you for being the only person to ever really take the time to see me.