Maddening Max

Chapter 11: Making Memories

"What lies behind us, and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us." —Ralph Waldo Emerson

Max's POV

The excitement in her tone had my brain unable to function well. Forgetting we could get spotted by any media and let the whole world know that the only daughter of the Mailov linked with me. That would also give Morgan, or whoever that man determined to drag me to hell, the next target just to hurt me.

You're overthinking it again, Max. It's been ages. Probably he's forgotten you existed.

Or perhaps, whatever happened in the past was purely an accident. It was coincidental.

I quickly shook the thoughts off and willed myself to stop reminiscing or ruminating about the past. I don't know why I should let my past ruin what we have right now.

I smiled unconsciously. Just thinking about my wife made me feel wonderful, to be honest. My whole life has been revolving around my career. And now, all I could think of was her.

Unconsciously, I shook my head as I changed into blue jeans and a white polo shirt, then quickly gathered my wallet and car keys. I stuffed them in my jeans and headed out.

When I got to the living room, my wife was not there waiting.

"Angel!" I called, but no answer. I called once more, but the quietness of the house told me she must be out now and waiting. Angel is not the type who will sit and stay quiet. She's chirper and loud.

I quickly grabbed a black baseball hat and strode outside. My wife was already out in the driveway, leaning against the side of my truck, waiting.

I shook my head as I locked the door, then walked over to her, my eyes scanning her mindlessly.

She's wearing a baby blue tank top, topped with a thin, long dusty pink trench coat that reached her shin, and pairs it with tight-fitting black jeans. The sleeves of her pants folded until her ankle. She looked so comfortable with her white converse sneakers.

Her hair was tied in a bun on top of her head, with a few tendrils loose and teasing her cheeks, framing her small delicate face. And she was wearing her flirty grin that always makes my knees weak and my cock stiff.

"Well, you look scrumptious, hubby," she smiled as I approached her closer.

She stood straight, and she still just reached my shoulder, barely. I winked at her as I leaned down, my lips so close to hers. She closed her eyes, and I laughed as I reached the passenger door and opened it for her.

"Wifey, you're scandalous. People are watching us," I murmured against her lips, and she snapped her eyes open and craned her head around her before she rested it on me.

The flirty smile died down, and she glared at me.

"It's just an old man. I am sure if he sees us kissing lovingly, he'll start checking what he is missing in his life. And perhaps he'll start losing his grouchiness," she laughed at the last words, and I subtly glanced at our neighbor, Mr. Smith, the most hated in the neighborhood. A bachelor, a single man who spent all his life defending justice, he had forgotten women existed.

He just nodded his head at me before striding back into his house, and I chuckled as I trained my eyes back on my wife, who was also watching him.

"What a waste of genes," she murmured, and I chuckled.

"Be good, wifey. You're starting to become nosy," I playfully glared at her. She only chuckled. My head bent lower and claimed her tempting full lips for a brief kiss.