She twisted her neck to look at me. “A facial?”

“Yes, I do an at home facial every weekend. Brought all my stuff with me. It’s fantastic. Your skin will never feel so good.” I put my hand to her cheek and said, “Promise.”

“Are you okay?” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion or fear or both.

“I’m fine,” I lied because I… was… not.

“Max sounded –”

“He’s fine.”

She shook her head and my hand dropped away.

“He sounded pissed,” she told me and she was right, except it was a significant understatement. “Never heard him like that, seen his face like that. Even when he was fighting Damon last night he was in control.”

I pressed my lips together, uncertain how to proceed. Then I decided on honesty.

“You know what happened to you a few weeks ago?”

Her eyes got wide then her mouth got tight then she swallowed before she nodded.

“One day, sweetheart, you’re going to have to tell a good man what happened to you and, on your behalf, he’s going to get like Max did earlier.”

I watched her shiver, actually watched her shiver, before she whispered, “You’ve been raped too?”

I shook my head quickly and said, “Beaten.”

“Oh Nina.” She was still whispering but now tears were in her eyes and I bent at the waist, got close and put my hand back to her face.

“We girls, we’re tough, darling. Soft on the outside but, deep down, we’re tough. Doesn’t feel like it now but none of this is going to beat you.”

She was trembling, also visibly, but she said, “Okay.”

“I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Go get a shower, sweetheart, use my stuff.” When she hesitated, I continued, “Showers work miracles.” I ran my knuckles along her cheek and smiled before I finished, “And facials are even better.”

She nodded and repeated, “Okay.”

I pulled away and she got up and walked to the stairs as I sat down at the computer.

“Neens?” she called, giving me a new nickname that I instantly liked.

I looked to see she was halfway up the stairs, standing in a curve and looking down at me.

“Yes, my lovely?” I answered.

“You told Max about… what happened to you?”

“Sorry, it was bad timing. It just happened.”

“I’m glad,” she said. “I’m glad you trusted him with that and I’m glad that’s why he was the way he was because he scared me but it doesn’t scare me now that he was that way for you.”

It was me who was now shivering.

I ignored this and said, “You need anything to wear, just dig in my suitcase.”

“We left all your shopping bags in my car,” she reminded me then muttered, “bummer,” then walked up the stairs.

I turned to the computer and as the shower went on I held my breath and checked my e-mail.

Nothing from Niles.

Drat.

I looked up the stairs, I could hear the noise of the shower but it was significantly muted and I suspected I heard it because I was listening. Max built a quality house.

I leaned forward and pulled my phone out of my back pocket. Then I called Niles. Then I held my breath while it rang.

Then I got voicemail.

“Niles?” I said into the phone after I heard the beep. “This is Nina. I called because I thought we could talk. We need to… finalize things.” God, I was such an idiot. “I’ll call back later.”

Then I touched the screen to end the call. Then I called my mother.

“Oh my God!” she said instead of hello. “I thought you’d never phone.”

“Hi Mom.”

“Get let out of Max Prison?” she asked, her tone amused as I shut down my e-mail and headed across the house to the coffee.

“I wasn’t in Max Prison.”

“He sounds interesting.” Her tone now sounded nosy.

I changed the subject and informed her, “I just called Niles.”

She was quiet a moment then asked, “And?”

“Voicemail, I left a message.”

“Did you check your e-mail?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Nothing.”

“That boy,” she muttered.

“It’s okay, we’ll have dinner or something when I get home, talk it through, finish it up like two adults.”

“Yes, it would be novel for you two to actually speak to each other in the same room while you break off an engagement. Not talk via e-mail and voicemail.”

“Mom.”

“Neenee, I’m just glad you’ve made your decision and you’re moving on. And… speaking of moving on –”

While we were talking, I’d hit the coffeepot and poured myself a cup. I put the milk back and closed the fridge cutting her off, “Mom –”

“Honey, spill.”

I grabbed my mug, leaned a hip against the counter, took a sip and stated, “I don’t want to talk about Max.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to think about Max.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know what to think about him.”

“Okay, you tell me all about Max and I’ll tell you what to think about him.”

“Mom.”

“Nina.”

“Mom,” I said more firmly.

“Nina.” She beat my firm by a mile. “Listen to me, let me explain something to you. You’re my daughter, I love you. I learned a long time ago that I had to let you make your own decisions, your own mistakes and then sit back and watch you learn from them. You’re like me, honey, you don’t learn from people telling you stuff, you learn from doing. But this is one place I want you to listen to me and learn. Don’t make my same mistake. Don’t close yourself off from something that might be good. Learn to take risks again, Neenee Bean.”

I looked out Max’s windows at the vista and I took another sip of coffee.

My mother didn’t open herself up to looking for another man after my father. When she’d found out about three weeks after she had me that he’d cheated on her and then he left her for the other woman then left the other woman and left the country, my mother had been devastated.