Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Max stared down at the email attachments he’d surreptitiously printed out earlier that afternoon at work, just before sneaking off home in case Inés caught him and started asking questions. Or Miranda, if he was honest. He had a decision to make now. A huge one. Life changing. And not something he’d sought out at all.

A week ago now, he’d been approached out of the blue with an offer. His superiors in Germany were setting up a small team officially covering the entire Costa del Sol, but also likely assisting anywhere in Andalucía they might be needed for cases involving German citizens. With Max’s six years of experience in Mallorca, they had selected him to set up and lead the team. It would mean a promotion and a challenge, and Max had found himself intrigued. He’d spent the following days going back and forth on the pros and cons, changing his mind a dozen times a day as the deadline to give his answer crept closer.

He’d been very happy in Mallorca, generally speaking, but maybe a big change was just what he needed to snap him out of the funk he’d been in for the last few weeks, he mused. About a month ago now, he’d asked Carmen to marry him, for the second time. He’d put a lot more thought and effort into the proposal this time, but the initial response had been no different: “I’ll think about it”. A non-committal to his pledge of commitment.

A day of eager, stomach-churning waiting and he’d got his final answer. He almost wished he hadn’t. She loved him, she’d said, but in the end she thought they should both move on — an amicable break. Marriage wouldn’t be the right thing for them and they should give themselves the chance to find the people they could make it with. Max couldn’t help wondering if they’d have carried on happily enough if he hadn’t asked.

The evening Carmen had delivered her blow and slipped quietly away from him, Max had felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest and drop-kicked into the freezing depths of the wintry Bay of Palma. He hadn’t seen it coming. He’d thought things had been going well. What an idiot he’d been.

Perhaps some distance was what he needed now to help get himself to the next unwelcome stage of singledom. The initial period had been so raw, so overwhelming. He’d felt lost in a sea of confused emotions that wouldn’t let him just be. Without obliviating beers with Christian — not at Joan’s, for obvious reasons — and without the soothing normality of his partnership with Miranda, he didn’t know how he’d have made it through that dark January.

And now, here he was, thinking of leaving them both behind. He knew what his dad would say — have some ambition, son, and seize the day — but what about his two best friends? He had an inkling of Christian’s opinion since they’d been here before with his move to Mallorca. Back then, the chauffeur had been upset that his best friend was leaving Germany, but soon enough the talk of holidays had begun. After the second visit, Christian had just never gone home. Málaga was closer, so maybe it wouldn’t be such a big deal this time; they’d still see each other often enough, if they wanted.

What about Miranda though? For some reason he couldn’t put his finger on, he didn’t want to talk about it with her until he’d come to a firm decision. He would have to settle for the imaginary version of her that he could quite readily conjure up in his mind these days. She’d agree with his dad, surely? Like Winter senior, she too was driven, keen to climb up the ladder if the right opportunities arose. She’d want the same for her compañero — hadn’t she nagged him on multiple occasions over the years about being too laidback? She’d tell him to accept, wouldn’t she? He hoped she’d miss him at least a little though, even if she’d probably never admit it. He’d certainly miss her. They were really good friends now.

Feeling closer to a decision, Max read through the pages of further information, unnecessarily convoluted in the German tradition of paperwork. The pay rise they were offering would be nice, he had to admit. They would also cover his relocation costs, and speed up the transfer process so that he could get started quickly — probably by the end of February, Inés willing. He’d yet to find out much about his new boss, but he’d had his share of scary superior officers before and lived to tell the tale, so he could do it again if he had to. As long as the rest of his team were friendly and competent, it would probably work out fine. He got along with most people, so he didn’t foresee that aspect being a problem.

What the hell — what did he have to lose? Only his personal relationships were keeping him here in Palma, and he wouldn’t lose such firm friends just by moving a few hours away. Málaga was a vibrant, cultured city with a great food and drink scene, and plenty of historic attractions and natural beauty all around; he could be happy living there, and sure of plenty of visitors.

He chucked the papers down and began typing out his acceptance email, feeling excited for the new chapter of his life.

Chapter Text

It was a Friday afternoon in early February and the sun was already beginning to sink in the cloud-scattered sky as Max drove himself and Miranda back from the last interview of the day. He’d been putting off sharing his news with her for days now, struggling with how to break it that in just a few weeks, he’d be gone and she’d be without a compañero. He decided he’d better finally rip the plaster off now and give her the weekend to herself to get used to the idea. His mind made up, he parked the car outside Miranda’s home, unusually quiet for a change as he played out how the conversation might go.

Miranda assumed her partner was just tired after their long day, like she was; her sofa was calling her now and so was the bottle of gin she still had from Christmas. She unfastened her seatbelt and reached her hand to the door handle. Max lunged across her and grabbed her arm. Miranda’s head snapped round, a look of confusion and annoyance on her face.

“Wha—”

“I just want to talk for a minute. That ok?” Max interrupted her, dropping her wrist now he had her attention.

Miranda’s face scrunched up in suspicion. “Ok, go on…” she instructed him. She surreptitiously slid her fingers between her legs and her seat, a move she often carried out automatically when people told her that they needed to talk to her in that vague, anxiety-inducing way that bothered her so much. Unconsciously, she bit her lip as she waited for him to continue.

Max faced forwards and drummed his hands on the steering wheel, trying to form the right words for such a huge announcement. He swallowed hard and turned to look at his partner, who was visibly uncomfortable with the pause. “So, big news…” He gave her a lopsided smile.

“Oh, really?” Miranda’s mind raced through the possibilities, irrationally settling on what seemed like the worst one. She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re not going to tell me you’ve got another girlfriend already, are you? Because I really don’t—”

Max held up his hand to stop the runaway train of her mistaken response. “I’m leaving?” he told her, uncertainty over how the discussion would proceed making his voice raise it up into a question. He grimaced as he awaited her reaction.

Miranda’s face appeared expressionless. “Leaving,” she repeated, as if she hadn’t quite understood what the word meant.

“Ja,” he confirmed quietly, trying in vain to work out her feelings on his revelation.

“What do you mean, leaving?” she demanded. “Back to Germany?”

“No! No, I’ve been offered a job in Málaga, heading up a new team of German officers,” Max explained. “Just four of us to start with, but…” He shrugged, indicating that it could be a big deal for him. “They want me there for the start of March.”

Miranda nodded slowly as she took this in, her gaze now fixed on the dark, wind-whipped sea behind him. “So, a promotion? That’s, that’s, uhh, that’s... great, isn’t it?” She shifted her vision back to him, but only managed to make eye contact for a split-second before it felt too uncomfortable. She tried focusing on his mouth instead, hoping it would help her process what he was saying to her.

“Yeah. It is great. Bit more money.” He gave a brief grin at this detail. “But mainly it’s going to be an adventure, a challenge — I hope.”

Miranda smiled weakly, trying to ignore the dizziness she was starting to feel. “Well, err, congratulations then,” she offered.

“Thanks.” Max beamed, relieved that she wasn’t upset with him. “I really didn’t want to split up our partnership — it was nearly the thing that made me stay — but it was just too good an opportunity, you know? And I think a few hundred kilometres between me and Carmen might not be a bad thing.” He laughed lightly, a strain on his face at mentioning his ex-girlfriend.

Miranda forced a smile onto the controlled mask of her emotional poker face. “If it’s what you want, then I’m, I'm happy for you,” she told him, sincere in the sentiment despite the turmoil within her.

“You are?” Max felt much brighter, now that it seemed he had her blessing.

“I am. Congratulations again.” Miranda stuck her hand out, ready to shake his in an echo of that time back in their first year as partners, when she’d thought she’d be returning to London soon and he’d be marrying Carmen. The gesture had felt a bit stiff then — even more so now that they’d grown quite close. Not for the first time, she felt hopelessly inadequate at this sort of thing.

Max stared at the outstretched arm before him. He let out a chuckle of amusement at her formal British ways. “I think we’re beyond that now, aren’t we?” he asked softly, holding up his arms to indicate what he was suggesting instead.

Miranda took a second to weigh the situation up, before giving a small nod of assent. Max’s face lit up and he swept her into his arms, holding her as tight to him as the car seating would allow. Chins resting on each other’s shoulders, they both closed their eyes and smiled into the glowing evening light. Miranda was glad that like this, Max couldn’t see the hurt and sadness that tempered her happiness for him; this was the worst news she’d received in years.

Chapter Text

Miranda scurried into her house and pushed the door shut behind her, without glancing back at Max as he prepared to drive off, like she habitually did. Tonight, she didn’t want to take the chance for a last lingering look at the man she had secretly loved for the last three years; she had for once forgone her customary final snapshot to freeze in her memory until she was with him again. Her top priority had instead been to get indoors without him seeing that her eyes were welling with tears that she could no longer hold back.

It hadn’t been a lie when she’d told him that she was happy for him, she just wasn’t happy for herself: she didn’t want him to go. At all. An upsetting announcement like this had never entered her mind as a possibility. She'd thought she'd found a partner for life here, a home. Obviously, she'd read the situation wrongly because it wasn't the same for Max — that was painfully clear now.

She sank down on to the cool tiles at the top of the short flight to the living area, feeling utterly ridiculous for crying as the tears sprang out and rolled down her cheeks, falling on to her knees. Friends came and went in life and you just had to deal with that. Maybe if she’d put some effort into making more of them she wouldn’t be feeling Max’s imminent loss so keenly, she berated herself, knowing deep down that it was pointless because having just a small number of people close to her was in her nature; she would never be a social butterfly, and nor did she want to be, if she was honest.

She had lost friends before, either due to fallings out that she hadn’t always entirely understood, or because of one party moving away and the distance severing the link, sometimes quickly, sometimes drawn out over many months of slowly having less and less to say to each other. It had never hurt her quite like this though, and Max hadn’t even left yet. But then, she hadn’t been hopelessly in love with any of her other friends. She’d never wanted — needed — anyone the way she did Max, pathetic as she thought that sounded. She’d miss him dearly as her partner and her friend, but as so much more than that too: he’d now forever be her ‘one that got away’.

She felt so stupid to have allowed herself to even entertain the remote possibility that he might ever return her feelings. Why would he? They were so very different, and if his choice of Carmen was anything to go by, he was looking for someone like him: warm, friendly, outgoing. None of those adjectives had ever seriously been applied to her — cold, reserved, introverted, those were the words that came to most people’s minds, she was pretty sure. If Max had ever seen past that hard carapace she carried around as protection, it had only been as a friend and a close colleague. She almost wished he hadn’t pushed his way so far into her life and her affections, because what she was left with now was confusion and heartbreak over something that would never have gone further, no matter how much she might have wanted it. If he felt anywhere close to how she did, he wouldn’t be going.

Time to try and shut down those unhelpful, complicated feelings, she resolved. Time to lock up her slowly-opening heart once again, to build up the walls he’d taken down, brick by brick. She’d kept her hopes alive for all these years of working with him — even dared to raise them up a little when Max and Carmen had finally broken off their relationship, wondering if he’d start to see her in a different light — but it was all for nothing. He was leaving, and that was the end of it. She might manage to keep their friendship going with some effort, but that would be all it ever was, and she had better accept that quickly, for her own sake.

She’d been foolish to think that love and relationships might ever be for her. Back to her solitary life now, back to telling herself she was always ok on her own, even if she now thought that just maybe there was something better than being alone. She hadn’t even been looking for a partner, so the departure of someone who’d never become that for her really shouldn’t be such a big deal. So why did it hurt so much?

Miranda knew she had to shake herself out of this — she would force herself now to reframe Max in her mind as simply a friend and absolutely nothing more. Sooner rather than later, she needed to find a way to manage without her compañero there, to piece together a satisfactory life while he faded out and into the background.

Turning her thoughts ahead to what Max’s very last few days on the island might be like, Miranda found an idea forming: if she made sure he at least had a happy time, might some of that feeling rub off on her? Maybe it was worth a try. Besides, concentrating on organising a good send-off should help her distract herself from forbidden or melancholy thoughts in the short term, she decided. What exactly she would do after that, she didn’t know. Anything beyond his final hours on the island was too big to think about yet.

Thoughts ordered and emotions a little more in check now she had a project to occupy her, Miranda wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve and tucked her hair determinedly behind her ears. She pushed herself to her feet, pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened the spreadsheet app. She had a leaving party to plan — the best leaving party Max would ever have, she would make damn well sure of it.

Chapter Text

For his last few weeks in Palma, Max had decided to ‘do a Miranda’, as he termed it. He vaguely remembered the chaos of his move to the island six years ago, and it seemed like way too much hassle to go through again. Being meticulously organised — painful as that might be — would be the better option this time, he’d decided. The night he had broken the news to Miranda, he’d gone home, cracked open a cold beer, and started a ‘to do’ list.

He’d ticked off a major item on the list early on by spending a weekend in Málaga to find a new apartment, which was sorted out with surprisingly little fuss. The place was quite different from his current one and would take some adjustment, but he knew he could make anywhere home, given a little time and clutter.

Once the accommodation issue had been seen to, ferry tickets had been bought, a moving company hired, utility companies notified… All the little details were under control and Max was feeling pretty pleased with himself. The one job that remained on his list was a big one though: going through all his possessions and deciding what to part with, and packing up the rest. He’d been procrastinating expertly so far, but with less than ten days to go, he knew he really had to get on with it. Each night after work, he’d make himself spend two hours on the tedious task, and then reward himself with a chocolate from Carmela’s.

Tonight it was the living room he needed to tackle. He put a record on the turntable, hoping to make the process go more quickly with the addition of background music. What he’d selected was definitely fast-paced enough: an album by the late DJ Kurt Sommer. He smiled as he remembered Miranda’s unfavourable review of the musician’s work; she’d sounded like someone’s grandmother, strongly disapproving of the music the young people liked to dance to these days. His smile broadened as he pictured Miranda’s outfit that night: wow. His mouth had practically fallen open when he’d seen her in that revealing green jumpsuit, and then when she’d asked him to apply her temporary tattoo to her back… well, he’d had to think very hard about cold showers and paperwork. He’d wondered at the time if she’d realised how very attractive she was. He certainly had — what straight man wouldn’t, with that outfit?

Max suddenly realised that he’d completely zoned out reminiscing and not started any of his task. He shook himself into action and strode to the bookcase, grabbing a cardboard box on the way. He began stacking his books into it, unable to part with any of them, except a cookbook he’d spilt sauce all over, making it largely illegible.

A few minutes in, he came to one of his most treasured possessions: the bird book Miranda had given him as a present after a case at a nature reserve. Flicking through it, he remembered the discussion they’d had that evening about which birds they were. He’d miss evenings like that, chatting on her balcony with a glass of wine, watching the sun go down and admiring the changing colours of the sky reflected in the waves of the bay below. He smoothed his hand tenderly across he book’s cover. If there was one volume he’d never part with, this was it. Carefully, he placed the book in the middle of the others, just in case of knocks on the journey, then carried on clearing the shelves.

As he sat on the sofa a while later, eating his chocolate and feeling very happy with his progress, Max reflected that they’d had a lot of good times, he and his compañera. Last night, a selection of fancy teas had got him misty-eyed, thinking about the big tea-drinker in his life, and the previous evening, police team photographs had sent him off on a distracting wave of nostalgia. He remembered fondly that packing up his clothes a few days earlier, he’d come across the BvB football shirt she’d bought him, partly just as a nice gift, partly to show him how to get buying someone a football top right, after the England shirt debacle. Secretly, he had to admire her commitment to pointing out his mistakes and correcting him. If there was a point to be made, she would make it.

With a heavy sigh, Max realised that this ‘packing up his life and leaving’ business was proving way harder than he’d ever expected. It wasn’t supposed to be such a wrench. He wanted to go, so why was this all so difficult? Why was he so very emotional about it? He’d stay in contact with his friends here, that was for sure, and they’d visit each other plenty. He should be concentrating on the excitement of the challenge ahead, but the gnawing sadness in his stomach was marring that for him.

Maybe he was a bit scared about the new responsibility? Could that be it? Only just a little, he decided. Was it because he didn’t know anyone in Málaga then? No, it couldn’t be; he made friends everywhere he went, so he had nothing to worry about on that score. There had to be something deeper going on, but for the life of him, he couldn’t pinpoint it. He’d just have to push through and hope things worked out and that the nagging feeling dissipated once he’d arrived in his new city. He’d certainly be busy there, so he wouldn’t have time to dwell on things, anyway.

He thought that perhaps it would help to remind himself of all the positives of the move: it was fantastic that he was getting a promotion without even applying for one; he was getting to meet new colleagues and make lots more friends; and he had a nice place to live, in a city that was buzzing and on the up. Who knew, maybe he’d even find a new girlfriend. He wasn’t sure he was quite ready for that yet, but given a few more months… Yes, he had a lot to look forward to — he just had to keep telling himself that.

He couldn’t help wondering how the people he was leaving behind would be affected after he departed, though. Roberto and Luisa had both said they’d be sorry to see him go and would really miss him. Inés, on the other hand, had showed no sign of being upset, apart from some sarcastic remarks about hoping Germany would be sending over someone who’d heard of protocol and being on time next, which he strongly suspected was just her masking her true feelings. She must have at least a bit of a soft spot for him by now, he reasoned confidently.

His friends on the island would be fine too, he was pretty sure of that. Well, the German lot would anyway — they had each other, and although he often acted as the social glue in the group, they’d figure things out. Christian would probably take on Max’s usual role of texting everyone to go for drinks or tapas, as well as the new task of organising a boozy weekend visit to Málaga, no doubt.

The Welsh contingent was far more of a concern, however. He’d done his best always to include Miranda, and to try to bring her out of her shell, right from her very first week in Palma. He’d loved seeing her slowly relax and fit in more, building a new life for herself with him at her side as as her compañero and best friend. He just didn’t know at all how things would go for her after the end of February, though. Would she be ok without him?

Inés clearly shared Max’s worry — she had taken him aside one day soon after he’d told everyone his news to advise him not to get too exited about it around his partner. She thought that Miranda might find the transition difficult, after having grown quite close to her partner over the last three years. From then on, he’d tried not to talk about the move too much, unless he was specifically asked. A few times when it had come up in conversation, he’d caught a strange look on Miranda’s face. She’d insisted irritably that she was absolutely fine and could he please stop asking, but Max was almost certain that it was a front. Whatever was really going on inside, she wasn’t voicing anything other than happiness for him, and he couldn’t get her to open up any further.

He’d have to keep an eye on her these last few days together, he decided. Beyond that, all he could do was to ask Inés and Christian to look out for her, and to put all the effort he could into maintaining their friendship, despite the physical distance. There was no way he’d let her fade out of his life; she was far too important to him now.

Chapter Text

The weeks after Max’s shock announcement were tough for Miranda. During the days, she was mostly able to escape into cases with her usual fierce determination and efficiency, while the evenings were taken up with party planning and researching goodbye presents, mining her memory and Max’s social media for inspiration. Thus, she managed somewhat to ignore the pit of sadness and anxiety that dwelt within her, concentrating on practical matters and rushing her thoughts away from the impending departure as soon as her emotions threatened to overtake her. Until bedtime rolled around, that is.

The nights were a very different story to the days. With no easy distractions on hand, Miranda usually found herself lying awake in the darkness of her bedroom, struggling to calm her thoughts enough to ease herself into sleep. It had quickly become apparent to her that Max leaving was bringing up the abandonment issues that had lurked at the back of her mind ever since was a little girl. She hadn’t felt like this for quite some time though, and the return of the consuming dread and loneliness was not at all welcome.

Miranda’s feelings of desertion had started at the age of ten, when her mother had told her that she didn’t have long left. The heartbreaking conversation had made Miranda numb and confused at the time. Hours later, when the words had properly sunk in, she had dissolved into a snotty mess, trying desperately to escape into her favourite book through tear-glazed eyes. Those last couple of upsetting months of visits to the hospital, and then the hospice, had been a time of aching grief mixed with biting anger. How dare her mum go, the young Miranda had raged. Not now, when she needed her. It wasn’t supposed to happen yet. She wasn’t ready. But go her mam had, and Miranda’s world had become harsher and smaller.

The second cause of Miranda’s deep-seated issues was a teenage tragedy. Miranda had made a new friend in the last years of school, a girl called Cadi who’d moved from Cardiff. Miranda had grown attached to Cadi surprisingly quickly, and after a while it had morphed from friendship to a crush to hidden love. They’d made plans to go Interrailing around Europe for a gap year — a prospect that Miranda would’ve found too daunting alone, but with Cadi seemed glamorous and exciting. She had spent months planning routes and timetables, and listing hotel details, restaurant locations, museum opening hours… Every night after homework she’d scribbled away in her special travel notebook, organising her worries away.

Then it had all gone wrong. Cadi had convinced Miranda to go to a party to celebrate the end of their A Level exams. Miranda had self-medicated her social anxiety with a little too much alcohol, and it had somehow led to a drunken midnight kiss. Cadi had been into it at the time, the pair of them eventually staggering home and parting with one last snog and a burst of giggles.

After that though, Miranda’s attempts at communication with Cadi had met with either terse replies or silence, so she’d occupied herself with travel plans, reasoning that they would repair things at some point over the summer, in time to set off on their travels in September. The August morning they gathered at school to collect their exam results had started so well, Miranda far exceeding what she needed to confirm her deferred university place. She had sought out Cadi, asking about getting their Interrail passes, only to find her stony-faced and curt. Miranda was informed that Cadi was going with some other girls in their year that Miranda had never been popular with, and that she was not invited.

Downcast, Miranda had shakily made a call to her university’s admissions department to change her place to the coming year, but her request had been declined. Feeling abandoned and friendless, she had spent the following year still living at home with her strict father, working at a waitressing job that left her miserable and exhausted, constantly trying to stop herself wondering where Cadi was and what she was doing. That was the year the walls had gone all the way up. Miranda had resolved to keep to herself from then on, and she had for a long time. Until Max… and now, here she was, in love with her best friend who was leaving her behind, again. It was not a part of her history she’d wanted repeated and she was furious that she’d allowed it to happen.

This time, she at least felt she had more agency; she wasn’t hanging around lonely in her home town, counting down the days until the next phase of her life could begin. This time, she had a home and a job she loved, and a few other friends… Nobody quite like Max though. What a hole he would leave in her world, probably without even knowing it.

The riot of emotions and lack of sleep were truly taking their toll on Miranda, and by the start of Max’s final week, she was fairly certain others had begun to notice it. Burying herself in party planning could only get her so far — she had started to make silly mistakes at work, and had even missed a deadline for a report, to her chagrin. Veering between trying to be happy for Max and pissed off with him for leaving was a difficult course to navigate, and it left her with less time and headspace for actual police work.

One lunchtime when Max was out getting something to eat, Miranda feared she was about to get upbraided for yet another uncharacteristic error. She sensed Inés approaching before she could see her out of the corner of her eye, yet she chose not to look up, just in case she could somehow avoid the conversation she didn’t want to have. Intently focusing on reading through witness statements seemed like a good way to keep busy, hoping her boss would keep walking right past her.

Not caring how absorbing whatever happened to be on her subordinate’s screen was, Inés stopped at the end of Miranda’s desk. “How are the party plans going, Blake?” she enquired.

Getting no reply or sign of acknowledgment, Inés tried again. “Miranda? Party plans ok?”

Successfully lost in the details of her case, Miranda genuinely hadn’t taken in what Inés had asked the first time. She started and looked up warily. “Oh! Err, everything’s under control. I think I’ve organised all the things he’d like.”

Inés nodded. “Good. And the leaving gift?”

“I’ve got the money from everyone, except a couple of people who will get it to me tomorrow,” Miranda confirmed. “We’re getting him vouchers for a fine dining place in Málaga he was telling me about, and a few bottles from this bodega he likes near Binissalem.”

Inés smiled knowingly; it seemed Miranda had got inside her partner’s head so well that she had picked the perfect presents for him. “Excellent choices. He will be very pleased with both of those. Is there a card I should sign? I haven’t seen it going around.”

Miranda’s face dropped. “Oh! I always forget those!” she exclaimed, her nose scrunching up with annoyance at herself. “Probably because I never know what to write. I’ll get one tomorrow.”

Seeing Miranda’s upset at having forgotten that aspect of the farewell plans, Inés decided to step in; Miranda had organised everything herself, and all while dealing with heartbreak, Inés strongly suspected. “Let me,” she offered. “You’ve done it all.”

Miranda smiled, relieved her list of things to arrange wasn’t going to get longer. “If you’re sure.”

“Yes, there’s a good shop on my way into work,” Inés replied firmly. “I think I’m able to manage that, heh?” She narrowed her eyes, looking Miranda over. “How are you doing though?”

Miranda was puzzled. “Me? Fine. Busy, you know.” She gave a slight shrug, unsure of what her boss was getting at, and of what to say back to her.

Inés pursed her lips. “No, but really. Your partner is leaving soon. Are you worried? Upset?” Her gaze flickered over Miranda’s often inscrutable features.

Opening her mouth, Miranda hesitated, thinking over what she should share. “I mean, maybe a tiny bit…” she admitted eventually. “But it’s not going to interfere with my work, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she added hurriedly.

Inés rolled her eyes. “Forget the work for once! I’m trying to see if you’re ok. He’s your best friend, isn’t he?” She leaned forward slightly, demanding the truth.

Looking down at her desk, Miranda quietly replied, “yes.”

Inés’s mouth twitched up at the corners. “And he’s more than that too.” It wasn’t a question.

Miranda’s head snapped up. She looked like a rabbit in the headlights, eyes wide. “I—”

“Don’t bother trying to deny it,” Inés ordered sharply, having had enough of skirting around the subject. “I’ve got eyes.”

Miranda was still frozen in a state of alarm. “Uhhh…” The only aspect of this discussion she was happy about now was the lack of witnesses, it being lunchtime.

Inés tilted her head sympathetically. “And he’s still oblivious, I take it?”

Miranda swallowed hard. No point pretending any more, when Inés had noticed, and Max was abandoning her anyway. “Think so,” she muttered.

“Idiot,” Inés replied with a tut. “Tonto. He thinks it’s just friendly flirting — needs to pull his head out of the sand. Are you going to tell him?”

Miranda shook her head gently. “No point. He’s leaving.” She stared across the office, focusing on nothing but her inner melancholy.

“I think you should,” Inés told her briskly. “Won’t you always be wondering?”

Miranda sighed and moved her gaze back to her boss. “Probably, but there really is no point now. It’s too late.” She’d already dismissed confessing to Max as a hopeless cause that would definitely end in embarrassment, and possibly the loss of his friendship too. She wasn’t one to change her mind easily.

Inés took a long look at Miranda, slouching forward over her desk in defeat and discomfort. “Don’t shut the door completely,” she instructed her detective, a soft kindness in her voice now. “You’ll stay friends at least, won’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” Miranda answered quickly. She thought for a second: what if Max didn’t actually like her that much, and what if he simply replaced her? “Well, I hope so…” she added, almost in a whisper.

“Good. See that you do not drift apart, because I think he makes you happier,” Inés told her, making a mental note to instruct Winter not to forget his partner either. “Listen, let me know if you do need help with the party, ok?”

Miranda suddenly remembered she’d been meaning to ask about the part of the gathering she’d like to fade into the background for. “Actually, I was hoping you and Christian would sort of lead things, you know, with goodbye speeches and giving him the card and presents?”

Inés smiled. She was only too happy to fill the Master of Ceremonies role; it would give her the chance for a last bit of teasing before Winter left — maybe some hinting too. “Of course. You’ve done everything else.” She stepped towards Miranda and gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder, before heading to the door.

“Thanks,” Miranda directed at Inés’s retreating back, glad she’d managed not to flinch at the well-meant touch. She somehow felt a tiny bit better after that chat, which was certainly not guaranteed when it came to Inés. She turned back to her computer screen: time to try and avoid thinking about the loneliness to come once more.

Chapter Text

The night of Max’s leaving party had come all too soon. Now that everything was organised and he was about to go, Miranda felt constantly only a few kind words or a sympathetic look from bursting into tears. So much for her emotional poker face, she thought as the celebration got underway with the duo of Christian and Inés as the voice of the proceedings, handing Max his cards and presents.

First Christian and another couple of the German crowd spoke about Max, followed by Inés, on behalf of their colleagues. Miranda stood at the edge of the crowd and sipped her cava while this went on, worrying over the speech she’d immediately regretted agreeing to give. She took a large gulp and tried to tune back in as Inés seemed to be rounding off her tales of times Max had annoyed her or done something stupid. It was nearly time for Miranda’s turn; her stomach clenched and her fingernails tapped quietly against her glass as she distractedly listened to her boss.

At the front of the room, Inés looked to Max with genuine warmth as she began to conclude. “We’re sure you’ll settle in soon in Málaga, and get to know your new colleagues, and make lots of new friends, but don’t forget about us here in Palma. You’ll always be welcome here, though I’m sure at least one of us will be hoping when you come back for visits, it’ll be without an Andalucían girlfriend!” She paused to look pointedly to Miranda, and then back to Max, who was concentrating on his glass being refilled and failed to notice either Inés’s heavy hinting or Miranda’s reddening, horror-struck face.

“Anyway, all good luck with the move and the new department, Max,” Inés continued. “I’m going to pass over to the last person who wants to give a speech now. Come over, Miranda!” She held out the microphone and beckoned to the reluctant detective.

Miranda walked over nervously and took the mic. She cleared her throat. “Those— umm, can you all hear me?” The chorus of ‘sí’, ‘ja’, and ‘yes’ told her what she needed to know. “Right, good. Uhh, those of you who know me better will know I’m not one for giving speeches to lots of people, so I’ll keep this short.” She forced herself to stop staring through the assembled guests to the far wall, and to look at Max instead, addressing him directly now. “Max, you’ve been the best partner I’ve ever had. Thank you for helping me settle in here, and for putting up with me being so competitive… and a bit grumpy sometimes. I’ll miss having you around, but I hope we’re going to stay in touch: compañeros, right?”

Max caught the hint of pleading in her eyes. “Yeah, compañeros!” he called out, smiling broadly. Inés had warned him a couple of days earlier about what she’d do to him if he didn’t stay good friends with Miranda — if he hadn’t already planned to maintain the friendship, that threat would certainly have made him rethink rapidly.

Miranda signalled that she couldn’t say any more by holding the microphone out to Christian, who was standing a little to the side. He stepped over to grab it, and raised his glass as she returned to her former position at the edge of things. “To Max!” Christian cried with exuberance. The toast was echoed around the room and everyone drank to their departing friend.

Max walked up to the front and clapped Christian heartily on the back. He took the mic and smiled around the room, misty-eyed at being the subject of such clear affection. “Thanks, Christian!” he began. “You’ve already followed me to one Spanish city, so I know I’m not shaking you off too easily — I’ll see you for your holidays in Málaga!”

Christian called out “you know it”, and Max pointed his finger at him before continuing. “I have got a spare room in the new place, if anyone wants a weekend away. Be prepared for an extensive tour of all the very best places to eat and drink.” There was a ripple of laughter; everyone knew that Max was both a foodie and a wine enthusiast, so the cultural and historic sights would definitely come second with him as guide.

Max waited for quiet, then looked to his now ex-boss and gave her a cheeky grin. “Inés: firm, but fair… most of the time. I know you’ll keep all the old reprobates here under control. Hope you don’t mind me calling you up for pointers now and again!” Inés rolled her eyes, but nodded her agreement anyway.

Max faced his former partner next. “Miranda, Miranda, my compañera. Best partner ever, though maybe not the most fun.” This earned him a glare from the subject of his speech. “Well, not at first, but then I loosened you up with my ample charms, didn’t I?” He laughed loudly and shot Miranda a wink, before softening.

“I’ll miss you too… Who’d have thought when this Welsh whirlwind dropped into my life, she’d one day be one of my best friends, as well as end up being my partner for over three years? I’d say I hope you get another partner as good as me, but that’s basically impossible, so maybe just half as good.” Miranda shook her head in disbelief at his inflated opinion of himself.

“We’ll definitely stay really good friends. Couple of geese, aren’t we?” He looked fondly into her eyes, realising that she was probably the person here he’d miss the most — slightly more than Christian, even. That was a surprise.

“I’ll hopefully get to speak to everyone properly at some point tonight, or at least have a drunken dance and a goodbye hug! Thank you all so, so much for the card and the gifts. And an even bigger thank you to the wonderful, brilliant Miranda, who I hear organised this whole thing herself, and got it absolutely spot on.” Max paused to mouth “diolch” at Miranda, who smiled at him. He looked round at all the happy faces in front of him, feeling loved. “I’ll miss you all, you lovely people. To my friends in Mallorca!” He held his glass of cava aloft.

Miranda joined in with the toast wistfully: in a couple of days she’d no longer have her dearest friend here in Mallorca. The speeches had almost set her off down a tearful path she hoped to avoid, with Max’s thanks to her for organising the event and for being a great partner and friend coming extremely close to making the mask slip. She didn’t know how she would get through the dinner they had planned tomorrow — thinking carefully as always, she’d planned the party for his penultimate day so he had recovery time before getting the early morning ferry over to the mainland. Max had then insisted on a farewell meal on his last night, compañeros only. Miranda was both excited for the extra time together, and dreading it as the end of an era.

As she came back from the toilets, some time and several drinks into the party, Miranda searched the crowd on the dance floor for Max’s appealing face. When she spotted him, he was looking right at her, grinning merrily. He waved his arm in the air, insisting she join him. She smiled lopsidedly at him, unsure of what she wanted, but the raised eyebrow he shot her told her he wouldn’t let her refuse now.

A little tipsily, Miranda made her way across the dancefloor to Max, who was holding his hands out to her now. She smiled shyly as he grabbed her hands in his and made her dance along to the fast reggaeton song with him, wiggling his hips comically. Max spun her around as they giggled and grinned at each other.

The song began to fade out and they both stood still for a couple of seconds, waiting to hear the next one start. Max had been on the dance floor for most of the night and wasn’t planning to leave it any time soon, while Miranda was just at the right stage of the evening to enjoy herself with him and not feel too self-conscious.

A slow song began. Miranda had no idea what it was, but it seemed pleasant enough; musical knowledge was far more her dance partner’s area of expertise. Max dropped one of Miranda’s hands on to his shoulder and put his own round her waist and pulled her in close to him. She looked up to see him smiling down at her, feeling herself tense and flush as she caught his gaze. This was only their second time dancing together — after the last time, over two years ago now, they had tacitly agreed not to risk it again.

But Max was single now, Miranda reminded herself, so could that possibly mean he wanted this to go in the same direction as Cazador, albeit with a much better ending than stomping on her foot? She couldn’t imagine kissing him in such a public setting, but maybe if they went out onto the roof terrace afterwards and found a hidden spot…? Maybe they could finally see if there was something more here?

She shut her eyes hard and gave her head a tiny shake. Stop it, she told herself, just stop it right there. She was being stupid; Max just wanted to dance with his friend, like he’d been doing all night with everyone else here. She looked over his shoulder as they swayed on, not really focusing on anything in particular as she enjoyed the rare close contact with him, contact that she usually refused.

Max bent to talk into her ear, his breath falling hot on her neck as he tried to make himself heard over the music. “I’m having such a great time tonight. Caviar mini pizzas and you’re dancing with me! Amazing! Best party ever — you know me so well.”

Miranda turned her head to look back at him as he straightened up again. This was so much like Cazador now that her heart was pounding. If it hadn’t been for the loud music she’d have been sure he’d hear it, thudding so hard for him. Her mouth had rapidly gone dry and her head was scrambling now for how to respond to what he’d said. Instead of words, she just smiled, hoping it came across as merely friendly.

Max did seem to be looking at her now with just the same intensity as that memorable night long ago though. Was she imagining his facing slowly moving towards hers? Surely not…?

“Mind if I cut in?” a loud voice to their side asked suddenly.

Max and Miranda turned their heads quickly to see Christian grinning at them. Miranda cursed internally, hoping the frustration and disappointment weren’t transferring to her face.

“Sure, if Miranda doesn’t mind,” Max replied, looking back to her questioningly.

Miranda shook her head, the gesture hiding her true feelings. She minded quite a lot, actually. Not a chance she was going to say that though. The spell was broken now anyway.

Max let go of her and they separated with just a hint of reluctance. Christian stepped between them and took over Miranda’s former position with Max, who began whirling his childhood friend slowly around the dance space, both of them making adoring kissy faces at each other.

Miranda laughed at their antics and then made her way to the bar for another gin. She took her drink to a seat in the corner, needing a few minutes to herself to calm down before she could muster the energy to join any of the other guests for a chat. She sat watching Max and Christian, smiling at their daft moves — they had now moved on to that song she recognised from ‘Dirty Dancing’ and Christian was taking a run up to leap into Max’s outstretched arms. She winced as she waited for it to go horribly wrong and end up with a pile of bruised bodies on the hard floor, but surprisingly they managed the ambitious lift with only a couple of stumbles.

First aid skills not needed after all, Miranda looked around the room. She knew plenty of the people there, but the only one she really wanted to talk to tonight was the centre of attention and in too much demand for her. There would be time to talk tomorrow anyway, just the two of them. She decided to go home, while she was still on the right side of wobbly; she wouldn’t be missed amongst the crowd, and she had to be on good form for sorting out the last of Max’s presents, and for their farewell dinner. She took one last look at her joyful compañero and quietly slipped out into the lonely night.

Chapter Text

Max’s last evening on the island arrived wild and stormy. He couldn’t help wondering if it was some kind of omen. Until he heard Miranda’s sensible voice in his head telling him that wet and windy weather in February was totally normal and that the world didn’t actually revolve around him, that was.

Dressed in his favourite blue shirt that he’d deliberately left unpacked for the occasion, he drove the ten minutes over to Miranda’s, glad they hadn’t chosen a goodbye activity that involved being outside or travelling very far in the foul weather.

When he pulled up outside her home, Max could see Miranda’s face peering out of her rain-tracked living room window, watching for him. She disappeared, the light went out, and then the front door opened a few seconds later. She stepped out with a scarf pulled over her head, locked the door behind her, then hurried over to the car and got in quickly. She pulled the makeshift hood off and grinned at Max.

“Lovely send off the weather’s given you,” she told him wryly.

“I should’ve chosen to leave in the summer,” he agreed. “Still, we’re eating indoors. Bit of rain isn’t going to stop us enjoying that.” He started up the car’s engine again and pulled out, heading east along the coast road.

A minute or so into the journey, Max stole a glance across at Miranda as she loosened her jacket in the car’s cosy warmth. “Hey, I recognise that dress!” he remarked chirpily, his blue eyes twinkling.

Miranda looked down quickly at her outfit. “Good memory,” she told him quietly. The choice had not been accidental; she had carefully selected the little black dress she’d bought for the undercover part of their very first case together, bookending their partnership with the garment he’d liked her in.

“Not just a devastatingly handsome face here,” Max shot back with a laugh, earning an eye roll. He put the radio on and began to sing along, in good spirits now, with the eagerly-anticipated evening of fine dining ahead and his compañera by his side.

Unknown to Miranda, Max had had a little wobble at the end of his party the night before, when he’d realised first that she’d gone home already, and then that it was possible he might never see some of the guests again. Earlier this afternoon, thinking about not seeing Miranda almost every day anymore, he’d shed a couple of unexpected tears, before telling himself that he was hardly going somewhere without internet and phones, and that he could visit the island whenever he wanted; it was a new job in Málaga, not a one-way mission to Mars. He’d told himself sternly that he had to keep remembering that the move was his choice and that, overall, he was happy about it. Shame the drizzly, grey weather hadn’t been helping his mood all day.

The rain grew heavier and more horizontal while the two friends made their way to the headland that was their destination, then dissipated a little as they pulled up in the car park of the hotel where they had a table booked. Max was glad of this improvement, since he’d neglected to bring either a coat or an umbrella. He hadn’t expected it to be so rough when he’d packed his belongings up, and he made a mental note to take a jacket out of his suitcase for the morning as soon as he got back from dinner.

Miranda gave a low whistle as she looked ahead through the rain-spattered windscreen at the illuminated building in front of them, an old stone fortress now transformed into a luxury hotel. “Impressive,” she stated.

“Ja-aaa,” Max replied, having parked as close to the entrance as the availability of spaces allowed. “Why do you think I’ve been trying to get you to come here forever? The tasting menu is going to be soooo good. They didn’t get two Repsol suns for nothing.” He rubbed his hands together excitedly.

Miranda couldn’t help feeling some of his enthusiasm rubbing off on her. She had always declined to go to this fancy place every time Max had brought it up before, saying it was too expensive and not worth the outlay, even if he offered to take her as his treat. She could hardly refuse on his very last night though. Secretly, she was quite pleased he’d wanted to make their farewell dinner for two so special.

“I know it’s only raining a little now, but I got my hair just how I like it, so I’m going to have to make a dash for it,” Max announced.

“Fine, give me the car key and I’ll catch you up,” Miranda agreed with a sigh. “Since the reservation’s in your name, you can tell them we’re here.”

“Ok, thanks,” Max replied. He grabbed the handle next to him, counted to three in German, then flung the door open, leapt out, and dashed off, having let the mechanism gently close the door behind him.

Miranda shook her head in amusement as she watched him go, one shielding hand spread over his hair against the drizzle. She took the key from where he’d left it, got out, locked up and followed after him — all at a much more measured pace.

Max had dealt with the reservation when she arrived, and a smart waiter showed them both to their table. On the way, Miranda was informed by her excited friend that he’d reluctantly and sensibly said no to a drink in the piano bar first, since he couldn’t have much due to driving, and he knew she’d probably just be horrified at the cost. Miranda nodded; enough was being spent on the food as it was.

As they entered the dining room, Miranda decided instantly that this was the swankiest place she’d ever been to dinner in. They were in a large vaulted room, with arches partitioning off different sections, draped with huge, mustard curtains. From Max’s chatter in the car, Miranda knew that this had been the fort’s mess hall. There was nothing Spartan or military about it now though — this place exuded luxury. She quickly estimated about fifteen tables for two dotted around the impressive restaurant, spaced out for privacy. Each had a linen tablecloth and soft lamps up-lighting the diners and the smooth-plastered walls. It looked like no expense had been spared, which was probably part of the reason it cost so much to eat here, Miranda decided.

The waiter seated them both, explained the tasting menu, then went off to get them some chilled water. Max grinned across the table at Miranda. He’d been looking forward to getting her to join him here for ages — he just wished it hadn’t taken him leaving for to agree.

“Not bad, huh?” he said, leaning forward. “In summer they set up the restaurant on the roof and you get these amazing sunset views over the bay and Palma, apparently. I’d love to do that.”

“Your wallet might not love it,” Miranda smirked.

“What’s the point of a pay rise if I can’t enjoy it?” Max pouted. “Hey, I’ll come for a summer visit and we can try it out!”

“No, Max! That’s such a lot of money,” Miranda chided. She relented at seeing the disappointment on his face. “Ok, but only if it’s for a special occasion.”

“Something will come up, I’m sure,” Max told her confidently. “I’d like to do it properly and stay the night, so we can both get the pre-dinner cocktails and the matched wines for each course, and nobody has to drive.”

Miranda grimaced. “Two rooms here will be a fortune, even if it is only one night.”

“Alright, if it makes you feel better, we can share,” Max replied with a wink, unable to help himself.

Miranda sighed, tired of keeping it secret that she’d actually love for something like that to happen between them. “I’m not sure it does make me feel better… Anyway, we haven’t even eaten anything yet, so let’s reserve our judgment on this place, hmm?”

“Ok, but I’ve got high hopes.” He dismissed her concern with a wave of his hand.

“I’m remaining neutral until I’ve tried it all.” Miranda folded her arms in front of her; she was no pushover and the food needed to live up to both the setting and the price tag.

“Of course you are,” Max laughed. He picked up the card in front of him and began reading it. “So, the menu is a journey through Mallorca, using the best local products, but with twists and surprises.”

Miranda raised a sceptical eyebrow. “When it comes to food, I’m not a fan of surprises.”

Max looked up. “I know. They’ll leave the menu card so we know what we’re having though,” he reassured her, knowing what helped his friend by now.

“Good. I’m not eating any old rubbish just because it’s got a hundred Euro price tag on it,” Miranda said, a little huffily.

“Señora Cynical strikes again!” Max returned to perusing the tasting menu, salivating already. “Ohh, it all sounds so good. Stuffed squid, figs with Mahón cheese, porc negre, arroz brut, chocolate with rosemary and hazelnut…”

Miranda let out a low groan. “Oh god, there’s sobrasada in this one.”

“I volunteer to help you out with that.” There was absolutely no hesitation from across the table.

“Bet you do. You’re so selfless,” Miranda teased.

“That’s me.” Max narrowed his eyes. “What is your problem with it anyway?”

Miranda shrugged. “I dunno. Not a big paprika fan. I don’t think I like any weird sausagey things, come to think of it — sobrasada, chorizo, whatever stinky German things you carry round for snacking… I just want a normal sausage. A proper, no-nonsense, eat it with chips and beans, British one.”

Max shook his head in mock disappointment. “So fussy, Blakey. One day I’m going to get you to try some delicious German sausages and we’ll find one you like.”

“Don’t count on it,” she warned him.

The conversation was interrupted at this point by the waiter bringing bottled mineral water and taking their drinks orders. Max chatted with him about the wines from the island that they had in the cellar, eventually choosing a small glass of white for the earlier courses and another of red for the later ones. Miranda asked for the same, having no real interest in discussing the matter any further. She trusted Max on this and it seemed appropriate to have what he was having, since he was paying — she hated the thought of pushing his generosity too far, though she knew she’d have to go really out there to do that.

Dinner passed in easy conversation, with their usual back and forth of good-natured teasing and slightly ambiguous flirting punctuated by Max groaning over the delights of each new course, and Miranda looking at him with a mixture of patronising distaste and warm affection.

…

Back in the car, Max was still in a buoyant mood, totally lifted from the earlier lows of the day by the exquisite food and drink, and the cherished company. He knew he didn’t have long left with Miranda — probably less than an hour, even if she invited him in coffee — and he was determined to enjoy every moment and finish on a high.

“Didn’t I tell you it would be totally amazing?” Max enthused as he drove them back through the lashing rain, his mind still on the the restaurant’s gastronomic delights.

“Yep. I’ve got to admit it: that was delicious,” Miranda agreed. “Still overpriced though.”

Max wagged a finger at her. “Not for you because I paid.”

“Yeah, and I said multiple times that I would pay half!”

“Nope, you deserved that for organising such a great party for me,” Max insisted again. “I’m assuming you came up with the ideas for my leaving presents from work too?”

“Yeah,” she confessed coyly.

“You know me too well.” These last few days had really emphasised that for Max.

Miranda ran her fingers through her hair, embarrassed. “Well, err, friends, aren’t we?”

“We are. And I hope you really do know that me leaving doesn’t end that.” Max took his eyes off the road for a second to shoot her a sincere look, making sure she understood that it wasn’t just empty words. “I’ll still be bugging you and telling you jokes that make you groan, just from a distance now.”

“You’ll be busy with new friends. You don’t have to keep bothering with me,” she insisted quietly, giving him an easy out.

Max sighed with exasperation. “No! No. Nope. Stop right there!”

“But—”

He cut the air with his hand. “No. We’re friends and you’re only getting rid of me physically, and that’s the end of it.”

“Ok.” Miranda privately wondered if time would show this to be an idle sentiment. She desperately hoped not, but she was a realist. She stared out of the window, silently following the lights of the bay in the dark.

“Scheisse,” Max cursed as they drew close to Miranda’s home. “Nowhere to park.” He didn’t want to say it, but he’d been hoping to have a fonder farewell moment than just letting her out into the rain and driving off.

“There’ll be somewhere around the corner,” Miranda asserted with a wave of her hand in the direction she meant. “Why don’t you come in? Got something for you.” She looked across at Max nervously, feeling the usual flutter of awkward embarrassment at giving gifts.

Max flashed a grin back at her. “Ooh, exciting!” He steered the car round the corner she had indicated, seeing a couple of spaces free further up the street.

While Max parked his beloved BMW, the rain had somehow got even heavier. It was bouncing up off the road and pavements now, sluicing down like a temporary river, and pouring into the drains. Miranda took her jacket off ready to put it over her head for when she got out. She passed her scarf wordlessly to Max, making up for his lack of preparation for the inclement weather. With a nod, they both flung open their doors and rushed out into the night, Max pausing only to lock the car. They ran the minute or so to Miranda’s place, where she hurried to open the front door, with Max trying to shield her from the driving rain by looming over her.

Giggling breathlessly, they rushed inside, dripping tiny puddles onto the tiled floor. “I’ll get towels,” Miranda said as she walked towards the bathroom. “Tea?”

“Yeah, your coffee is still terrible,” Max called after her. He stayed where he was, not wanting to get any more of the floor wet. He caught the towel Miranda threw to him and began to dry himself off.

Miranda came back a couple of minutes later with two steaming mugs, just as Max had made himself comfortable on the sofa. The rain had made her hair become quite wavy at the front, in a way that Max had always found attractive on her. Unbeknown to him, Miranda was having similar thoughts about his own rain-dampened look, his shirt clinging to his shoulders and arms now, and his curls dipping down towards his eyes.

They sat quietly together for a few minutes, wrapped up in private thoughts and sipping on their tea until they had warmed up. Max was just deciding whether to ask about the possibility of a refill or to make his exit, when Miranda suddenly sprang up and paced to the dining room. She returned with a large gift bag in one hand and a thin, wrapped rectangle in the other. She stopped in front of Max and held the items out to him.

“This one is a leaving present,” she told him, not able to look him in the eye. “And the bag is your birthday presents — no opening until your actual birthday!”

Max accepted the single gift in one hand and put the full bag down by his feet with the other. “You want me to wait a whole week?” he groaned, only half-joking.

“Yes, try delayed gratification for once,” Miranda told him with a stern look.

Max poked his tongue out at her. “Spoilsport. Do I at least get to open my leaving present now?” He batted his lashes pleadingly.

“Go on then,” she sighed. She was reminded of a previous occasion when Max’s impulse control — or lack thereof — had made her compare him to an overgrown boy with an inability to stop eating sweets before he got to the point of making himself feel ill.

Max tore at the paper eagerly, uncovering the gift. “A map of Mallorca! This is great!” he cried. He looked up at her, beaming.

“Yes, I thought a little reminder of your time here might be nice on your wall,” Miranda explained, still a little uncertain despite his positive reaction. “Is the frame ok?”

Max studied the dark carved wood. It had a subtle heart design engraved into it. “I love it.” He rubbed his thumb over the pattern, looking at all the places they’d visited on their cases together.

“You know I’m not one for sentimentality, but I thought this place means a lot to you, so…” she shrugged.

Max grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze of gratitude. “It’s perfect,” he told her sincerely. “I’m a lucky guy — this and the vouchers for the Michelin-starred place in Málaga and the wine from everyone at work.”

“And the cycling gear from your German lot,” Miranda reminded him as she put the discarded wrapping paper neatly on the coffee table.

“Yeah, I’m probably going to need it if I’ve got a whole new city full of tapas bars to try,” he agreed with a chuckle.

There was an awkward pause, while both of them thought about him being alone in a new city, trying to make new friends, while his two best ones were still here in Palma. Miranda took a sideways step, turning slightly towards the kitchen, a hopeful look on her face. “Another cup of tea?”

Max took a deep breath, then sighed loudly. “Better not — early start.” He hated having to be sensible, especially when part of his brain was screaming that he should stay here longer, talking into the early hours as they had many times before.

Miranda nodded, knowing that it was the right decision really. She cocked her head to the side, waiting for him to say something because she didn’t have the right words to navigate this situation.

Max put the map reverently into the bag with the still-wrapped gifts. He clapped his hands to his knees and pushed himself up from the sofa. “Guess this is goodbye then, compañera,” he stated softly.

“Mm.” The shouting in her head that she didn’t want him to go and that he couldn’t just abandon her was too loud for Miranda to manage to say anything else. She just stood there opposite him, digging her nails into the heels of her hands, somehow wanting this goodbye to both be over and to never end.

Max stepped forward. He put his arms out and smiled at Miranda. “One for the road?” he asked hopefully, trying to catch her eye as she looked at his open arms.

Miranda looked back up at his face. “Sure,” she agreed quietly, her breathing fast and shallow.

Max needed no further encouragement. He rushed forward and gave her a big bear hug, almost tipping her over in his enthusiasm. Miranda patted him on the back, unsure of how to play an active part in this kind of show of affection, since it didn’t come naturally to her. There was too much on her mind for her to be fully in the moment, as usual — overthinking was her speciality and her thoughts were racing as she tried to analyse both her own movements and Max’s.

Max released Miranda at last and they moved towards the front door, Max grabbing his gift bag on the way. With him standing behind her, Miranda opened the door and peered out.

“Rain’s stopped at last,” she remarked tightly.

“Good because I didn’t fancy another run tonight,” Max joked. He moved around her into the doorway. “So…”

Miranda swung her arms at her sides. “So…” she echoed. She bit her lip.

“Well, uhh, I’ll probably be pretty busy when I get there, but hopefully I’ll be back sometime before the end of the summer for a visit,” Max told her.

“Oh, great. That’ll be lovely,” Miranda said with a nervous smile.

“Ja. I’ll text you when I get there — let you know I made it ok. Better go and get myself ready for the stupidly early start now… Adios, partner.” He gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze.

“Adios,” she replied, a catch in her voice. She was frozen from the overwhelming emotion and the parting touch, which she could still feel even though he’d removed his hand already.

Max took one last look at Miranda. He made a sudden decision, banking on the normal rules of getting permission being suspended right now, and bent forward to plant a tender kiss on her cheek. He noticed just before he pulled back that up close she smelled different tonight; she must have put on a special perfume for the occasion. He could still detect her familiar scent behind the new floral one though: fresh and lemony and comforting. He tried to commit it to memory.

“Bye,” he said, finally. He shot her a wink and then forced himself to stride off. He hadn’t expected this to be quite so hard and speed was of the essence now. He turned as he got to the corner, gave her an attempt at a cheery wave, then continued on his way out of her life.

When he had gone, Miranda quietly went back inside. In the kitchen, she made herself another cup of tea. While she waited for the kettle to boil, she touched her hand to the spot on her cheek where she could still feel his soft lips. She felt silly for being so hung up on him, but there wasn’t much she could do to stop herself now; the last couple of days had been too raw and too bittersweet for her to maintain her usual careful composure.

She took her second cupful of tea into the living room and sat in the spot on the sofa that Max had occupied only a few minutes previously. She could still smell the barest trace of his aftershave, a reminder of what she’d just lost, and of what would never be. She was glad though, on reflection, that nothing had happened between them at the party last night — in the unlikely event that that had been what he’d wanted, what good would have come from it, when he was moving hundreds of kilometres away? No, this was better for both of them, parting as friends, leaving whatever else there might possibly be between them unsaid. She’d just have to get used to the way things were going to be from now on, sad as that might make her.

Chapter Text

It was about ten in the evening when Max finally got to his new home, stiff and weary from the long day of travelling and the uncomfortably early start. He was looking forward to getting settled in, although his apartment didn’t quite have the charm of his historic residence in Palma, being of relatively new construction. It did have a good location on the edge of the historic centre though, and from the large balcony there was a stunning view out over the city and the Mediterranean, and across to the montes de Málaga — this view had sold the place to Max almost by itself.

Thinking strategically, Max had arranged for most of his stuff to arrive the next day, when he’d have time to move it all in during daylight hours, so tonight he just had a few bags to haul up in the lift from the car park. He opened the front door excitedly and took the sight of his new home in. It was a bit bland, but it had everything he needed and it was all in good working order, which had certainly not been the case when he’d moved into his old characterful flat in Palma.

He brought all the things he’d need for the next few hours into his new bedroom and bathroom, then returned to the living room, where the bag that interested him the most waited. He knew that the wrapped presents within it were meant for his birthday, but he figured he could open them now with impunity, since Miranda would never know he’d cheated. He quickly set a reminder on his phone for the morning of his birthday to thank her for them, then set about unwrapping.

Max sat cross-legged on the floor with the enticing bag in front of him. The first package he greedily opened contained some cushion covers in the distinctive blue and white ikat print produced in Mallorca. How sweet of her to help brighten up his new place with a tasteful reminder of his old home, he thought, smiling to himself. He would head into the shopping district tomorrow afternoon for the pads to fill them.

Next, he pulled out a heavy bundle. Inside the silver paper was a set of three large photo frames. The top one was filled with pictures of Max with his friends and colleagues back in Palma. The middle one featured scenic pictures of the island, all of which he recognised as places he and Miranda had been together. The final frame was his immediate favourite — it contained probably the best photo that had ever been taken of him and Miranda together, a smiling image of them dressed up at their work outing to the opera in the Drach caves. He’d really enjoyed that evening. Well, until the murder part.

There was one more item nestled in the bag still, calling to him to uncover its secrets. He decided with all the self-control that he could muster that if he left that one for his actual birthday then he wasn’t completely cheating. It would be nice to have one surprise left for the actual day too.

Guilt assuaged, Max stood up and leaned against the living room wall, taking a few long gulps of the now lukewarm water he’d bought at a service station a couple of hours ago. He looked down at the pile of presents in front of him. He was actually really glad he’d opened some of Miranda’s gifts tonight; he wasn’t used to having nobody around to talk to for a whole day and the affectionate tokens had reminded him that he wasn’t alone in the world, just in this new apartment.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket. Since Miranda had bought him a charger that plugged into his cigarette lighter a while ago, he had more than enough battery left to text her — not to say thank you for the presents and give the game away, but to let her know he’d arrived, as promised.

Max:
Hey, I made it! Long journey and I got stuck in some traffic, but not terrible

Miranda:
That is long! Hope you’ll be flying if you come to visit or you’ll lose two days just travelling 😬 Apartment ok?

Max:
WHEN I come to visit, not if! Yes, apartment fine. My stuff should arrive first thing tomorrow. I’d send you a photo of the view from my awesome balcony now, but phone is rubbish at night pictures ☹️

Miranda:
You took my list and got everything you need for now with you?

Max:
Water, charger, loo roll, towel, air bed and pump, blanket, cushion, clothes, wash bag, crisps, croissants, a banana

Miranda:
Very good. Best of luck with the air bed… Get some rest for your busy morning!

Max:
Yes, boss! Night 😘

Miranda:
Night

Feeling better after the chat with Miranda, Max set about the annoying task of pumping up his temporary bed. At least he was tired enough that he’d sleep on just about anything at this point, he thought gratefully.

…

After the first chaotic morning of dealing with moving in, Max had established a daily routine of breakfast with coffee on his impressive balcony. This was one advantage compared to his old home, which was low on outside space. He intended to make the most of it — he just needed some people to entertain up there now. Christian had already been talking about flights, so it wouldn’t take too long. Max had it in his head to invite his new team for drinks too, once he’d had time to orient himself and prepare the place to be able to play host in style.

Using the few days he had between jobs to unpack and get everything set up how he liked it, Max soon began to settle in to his new apartment. By the time his birthday rolled around, he had his nest pretty much as he wanted, barring a couple of boxes of miscellaneous items that he couldn’t face dealing with just yet. It felt so much more his home with his possessions in place, especially with the decorative additions from Miranda.

One of the evenings he’d been procrastinating packing up back in Palma, Max had researched the best bakery in the his new city, and had made sure to splash out there for his birthday breakfast. Next to the special pastries and strong coffee on his balcony table, he’d gathered his cards and presents, which he began opening in a leisurely manner, savouring both his luxurious breakfast and the well wishes.

From his dad, there was a card containing a cheque, and instructions to use it for setting himself up in his new home and for stocking his wine rack. This largesse came with a stern reminder to get the BMW serviced soon. Christian’s gift was heftier and more immediately enjoyable: a case of Max’s favourite beer. The eager birthday boy cracked the box open and quickly put a couple of bottles in the fridge for later, looking forward to an afternoon drink in the sunshine.

Next, Max got his last birthday present from Miranda out of its gift bag and unwrapped it eagerly. From its shape, he was pretty sure it was a record for his modest collection. He smiled fondly as he saw what it was: Guitarras Callejeras by Pata Negra. He knew one particular song on this album.

Back in the living room, he crossed over to where he’d set up his record player on the sideboard, pulled the LP from its cardboard sleeve, and placed it on the turntable. Checking the track listing, he put the needle to the right groove for the beginning of the track he wanted to hear the most. As the music began, he took a seat on the sofa, tipped his head back to the ceiling, and closed his eyes. Los Managers would forever have a special meaning to him: this was the track he and Miranda had danced the paso doble to in Cazador. The song they had almost kissed to. It was a very pleasant memory — to him, it marked about the time they had begun to get closer as friends.

He smiled as he remembered their dance, and how he’d ruined it with his clumsiness. Being with Carmen at the time, he’d quickly put the incident to the back of his mind. He couldn’t help wondering now what would have happened if he hadn’t stomped on Miranda’s foot. Would they really have kissed? He’d thought about doing it again at his leaving party, before Christian had cut in. Clearly there was something about dancing that made him feel a little too bold and a little too passionate. He was glad he hadn’t ruined his friendship with Miranda by getting carried away either time. A scenario where she wouldn’t have been furious or mortified — or both — if they’d ever kissed seemed unlikely.

Max opened his eyes as the song came to its final verse. He looked across the room to the photograph of himself and Miranda. How lucky he was to be the one that she’d opened up to and chosen to be good friends with, he thought. He’d do his very best to keep earning that rare friendship, for as long as he possibly could.

Chapter Text

In the weeks after Max’s departure, both he and Miranda were kept busy, she picking up the slack of having no replacement partner yet, while he was getting his head round a new team, a new boss, and a new workplace. Despite the huge amount of learning and organising he had to do, Max still found time to keep in contact with Miranda most days, sending her funny memes or puns whenever the mood took him. In return, Miranda sent him articles she found interesting, and information on places she thought he might like to visit in and around his new city.

One Friday night about six weeks after Max’s move, Miranda felt the weekend stretching out blankly ahead of her yet again. She’d probably end up working through part of it, despite Inés having warned her about burnout and ‘getting a life’. She decided to fight the itch to do something useful by catching up with Max.

Miranda:
How’s the new team? All going well still?

Max:
Really well! Easy to get on with, so my early impressions were right

Miranda:
Easier to get on with than me?

Max:
You were an ice queen to start with, but I melted your heart 😘😂🧊

Miranda:
🙄 Welcome to the Max Winter cliché fest

Max:
😏 you’re still my favourite lady, but it is nice to be the boss for once

Miranda:
I miss telling you what to do

Max:
Any news on my replacement yet?

Miranda:
No, they haven’t decided still if they’re definitely replacing you — you leaving prompted this whole big review apparently

Max:
Obviously they’d never find someone as good as me — irreplaceable 😎

Miranda:
Obviously

Max:
Or as warm, funny, handsome, intelligent, charming, handsome…

Miranda:
You put handsome twice

Max:
It’s worth emphasising

Miranda:
Uh huh

Max:
Glad you agree

Miranda:
🤨

Max:
Anyway, what you up to this weekend?

Miranda:
No plans. Maybe a long run, catch up on paperwork, reorganise my wardrobe

Max:
Oh Miranda! You can do better than that

Miranda:
?

Max:
How about a game night tomorrow? We can do a video chat, we’ll both have a couple of drinks, and I’ll let you thrash me

Miranda:
What games?

Max:
Don’t know yet. Christian plays some with his family, I’ll ask him

Miranda:
Ok. Might be nice

Max:
Yes! It’ll be fun. We could invite some of the rest of the Palma gang another time, if you like it

Miranda:
Wouldn’t you rather hang out with your new friends in person though?

Max:
I’ve had drinks with work people, but we’re not all free at the same times and some have young families and don’t get out so much. Not that you’re second choice! I wish you’d stop thinking like that 🥺

Miranda:
Force of habit, sorry

Max:
Stop apologising too! Got to go and get my pizza now, so talk later x

Miranda:
Bye!

Miranda put her phone down, feeling upbeat about tomorrow night. Even though Max had said he’d let her win, her usual competitive spirit was rearing its head. She’d try to keep it in check though; if she went too far, Max might not want to play with her again. Pushing him away was the last thing she wanted to do.

She stared across to the framed copy of the picture of herself and Max at the opera that now hung discreetly on her living room wall, as if trying to magic him out of the image and into her home. Six weeks ago, he’d been right here, drinking tea on her sofa, giving her a goodbye hug, and then making her go weak at the knees with a surprise kiss on the cheek. She touched the spot where his lips had found her skin, a move that was becoming almost involuntary when she thought of him.

Miranda wondered if she’d ever quite lose the yearning she felt for Max and just see him as a friend. It wasn’t easy when she could still hear his kind words about her in his farewell speech, still conjure up the scent of his aftershave, still feel his powerful embrace. Seeing his cleared desk in front of her every day in the office didn’t help her get past the pining and move on either.

These last few weeks had been so hectic without her partner-in-fighting-crime there to share the work and Miranda knew she needed help, but if Germany did send a replacement, what would that be like? It would be so strange to be paired up with someone new after being compañeros with Max for over three years — three months was about the longest any of her previous partners had lasted. Would they send another laidback extrovert like Max, or a mostly by-the-book introvert like her? What if they didn’t send anyone at all? She’d thought for so long that she worked better alone, but she knew now that she had just never had a partner that really complemented her and wanted to be around her. It was nice to have someone she could rely on. She’d never have found that out if she hadn’t ended up in Palma — Niall Taylor had done some good in the world then, albeit not deliberately.

Whatever happened, things would never be the same as when Max was there. Miranda realised now that those were golden years. Change unsettled her at the best of times and this year’s were having a huge impact on her life — so far it didn’t seem to be in a good way at all. If she could hold on to Max’s friendship, that would at least be something constant amongst the turmoil he’d created for them both.

…

Max slapped his hand on his thigh and dropped his phone on the cushion beside him. He addressed his friend, grinning victoriously out at him from his laptop screen. “Ok, enough games for tonight — brain go ‘brrr’ now.”

Miranda frowned slightly, but had to admit she was a bit tired, plus the gin meant she was probably not at peak performance now anyway. “Yeah. Let’s work out who won overall then,” she suggested keenly.

Max tutted. “You know it was you.”

“I want to be sure,” she shrugged back, knowing he was right, but needing that final validation.

Max took a swig of his beer, then wiped his hand across his mouth. “I know I said I’d do my best to beat because you want proper competition, but it matters more to you, so you try harder.”

A Blake eyebrow shot up. “Getting your excuses in, I see.”

Max let out a sigh and shook his head. “Just work out that you’re the champion already, will you?”

“Ok, well, I won Battleships,” Miranda began.

“I won Scrabble in Spanish, you won in English.”

“I think I won the quiz?” Miranda said hesitantly, not wanting to seem to be crowing too much.

Max nodded slowly, trying to recall how it had gone. “I won the rounds on sport, food and drink, film, music… oh, and celebrities. How many were there again?”

“Fifteen,” Miranda supplied smartly.

Max slumped backwards against the sofa. “See, told you. I admit defeat. Change your name to Victoria!”

“I’ll stick with Miranda: ‘she who must be admired’.”

“Oh, I do,” Max assured his friend, pretending to worship her, bowing his head and waving his arms in supplication at the screen. “I had fun tonight. We should do that again. Make it a regular thing.”

Miranda flashed a self-conscious smile at him. “I’d like that. Thought I might be draining the fun out of it with my competitiveness though…”

“No, you’re just giving me the motivation to find more games so I can beat you,” Max countered, holding his phone up at her to show he was about to start searching.

“Might take a while,” Miranda quipped. She poked her tongue out in mischief.

Max leaned forward quickly, his eyes narrowed. He pointed a finger at the camera. “Hey! If you weren’t my best friend I’d have cut the call off for that!”

The expression on Miranda’s face suddenly became very serious, and more than a little awkward. “Oh, uhh, am I?”

“Yes!” he told her emphatically. “I thought this was obvious.” He’d forgotten how difficult she found getting close to people and accepting that they wanted to spend time with her, and even enjoyed it.

Miranda visibly squirmed. “Umm, well, I know we talk a lot, but—”

A lopsided smile crossed Max’s face. “You don’t have to get weird about it. It’s simple: you are my best friend. Well, ok, best female friend because you’re kind of level with Christian — we go way back, though I probably talk to you more these days,” he reassured her gently.

“Oh.” She blinked rapidly, still startled by the talk of friendship and feelings. She dug deep and swallowed hard. “You’re— you’re my best friend too.”

Max beamed back at her, overjoyed at her admission. “There we are, then! We’re besties.”

“Besties,” Miranda repeated, trying the word out. Nobody had called her that before. It felt lovely. Fuzzy.

“Yeah, you’re my favourite,” Max added, his voice and eyes full of warmth.

“Favourite what?”

Max shrugged. “Just… across all categories. Except best guy friend, because that position is definitely filled.”

There was a pause. Miranda didn’t know where to look, or how to take this, or what to say back. Her mind was letting her down. “Right,” she managed, feebly.

“Anyway, bestie, I’m going to have to call it a night now, because all that thinking has tired me out,” Max joked, following it up with a loud yawn, stretching his arms and accidentally revealing some bare skin below his T-shirt.

Miranda let out a quiet yawn herself, catching it from afar as she tried not to look at Max’s skin on show. “Ok, night then,” she agreed when she could speak again.

“Talk tomorrow. Night!” Max replied cheerily. He directed a kiss at the camera, waved, and ended the call.

As Max’s image disappeared from her screen, Miranda lowered the hand that had a little shakily returned his wave. That virtual kiss had thrown her, especially after he’d got so sentimental and told her she was his best friend, and his favourite... everything, pretty much? What exquisite, ecstatic torture their friendship could be, she thought. And yet she’d always be back for more.

No point lying to herself; she’d totally failed to switch off her feelings for Max. It just didn’t seem to be possible at the moment. She was stuck in the limbo of unrequited love. It had only been a matter of weeks since she’d decided to try and stop loving him though — perhaps with time she might find her way out. Surely she couldn’t go on like this forever?

Chapter Text

By the start of summer, Max and Miranda had fallen into a pattern of messaging each other multiple times a day, starting with morning greetings as soon as they woke up, and finishing with goodnights just before going to sleep. Max had persuaded Miranda to join him for video calls just about every weekend, sometimes to play games, sometimes just to talk and share a long-distance drink or two. In a way, they almost felt closer than when they’d still lived in the same city. Hardly anything happened to either of them without the other knowing about it almost immediately, despite the distance. Miranda had even opened up about things she’d never revealed back in Palma, including some of what had happened with Cadi and her failed gap year travels, which she had always kept to herself previously.

In the four months Max had been in his new city, Christian had visited for two long weekends already, but there had been no talk yet of Miranda doing the same. Max didn’t want to put pressure on her to move their friendship forward too quickly or to travel to him when he knew it stressed her out, while for Miranda it felt too big a leap to suggest it — there was a extra level of intimacy to going to see him that she wasn’t sure she was ready for. It felt to her like labelling their friendship as something serious, and as if by putting it in the spotlight, she risked both damaging it and being rejected. She’d be devastated if it turned out that the amount of affection Max returned was not equal to what she held for him. She’d been humiliated before when it had turned out she was a mere acquaintance in the other party’s eyes, and then there was that horrible business with Cadi… She couldn’t contemplate going through something even close to as painful as that had been.

For now, Max and Miranda were both content enough to maintain their friendship virtually. They both knew that Max was sure to visit Palma before the year was over anyway, so they’d meet up properly soon enough. There was no great rush to test out their bond in person.

…

One Saturday lunchtime in late June, Max was pottering about with a record on when he suddenly remembered that he’d been meaning to get in touch with Inés, but had forgotten all about it during the week, having had such a busy time on his hands. He had a couple of organisational ideas that he dimly recalled her implementing back in Palma, but at the time he’d paid little attention to the details since he wasn’t in charge. He wished he had now — no doubt Miranda would have, but he didn’t want to have to use her memory to make up for his patchier one yet again. Better to go to the source. He grabbed his phone and sat on the balcony, leaning back in a chair with his feet resting on the railings, sunning himself as he began to text his old boss.

Max:
Hola Inés! Can I call you on Monday for a work question please? 🙏

Inés:
Yes. After lunch? Let me deal with whatever’s gone on over the weekend first

Max:
Gracias!

Inés:
De nada. Blake tells me you are keeping in contact still. That’s good

Max:
Yes! ☺️ Didn’t need your threat though — I was always going to stay friends with her! How is she at work?

Inés:
The usual blank face and saying she’s fine, you know her. But she does seem lonely, I think

Max:
That’s a shame 😞 I’ll talk to her later.

Inés:
Yes, good. Perhaps I will invite her out for cocktails soon. She could do with relaxing

Max:
Perfect! 🍸🍹Talk to you next week 😊

Max put the phone down on the balcony dining table and laced his fingers together over his stomach. He frowned a little as he stared out over the city, through the heat haze to the shimmer of the flat sea in the distance. It pained him to think of Miranda being lonely. He hoped that she’d get a new partner soon, one who could complement her the way he had, and who’d have her back like he always did. He couldn’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy and resentment about it though — he didn’t like the thought of being replaced in her life on any level. Still, Miranda’s happiness was important to him, so he’d just have to get over himself.

Thoughts of who might be sent to Palma from Germany and how they might get on with Miranda were interrupted by the strident buzz of the intercom from inside the apartment. Max hurried to get it and find out who was looking for him. It turned out to be a courier with an unexpected parcel addressed to him. Max told the man to wait downstairs while he came down in the lift to meet him.

The whole ride back up to his floor with the large cardboard box in his arms, Max was wondering what it could be. He was pretty sure he hadn’t ordered anything recently that hadn’t already been delivered, and there was very little information on the outside of the parcel to give him any clues about either the contents or the sender. He did note an instruction about refrigeration though, which had him tentatively excited.

As soon as he was back in his flat, Max retrieved his kitchen scissors from their usual drawer and set about opening the package, attacking the layers of tape with gusto. He pulled the cardboard flaps on the top of the box open to reveal that resting on some bubble wrap and ice packs there was a gift note:

‘Just a few treats because I thought you might be in need of some Mallorca in your life.
Miranda x’

Max smiled and lifted the note out so he could look through the contents beneath it. Inside the box were two sobrasadas, some ham, a pack of rosemary crackers, some ensaïmadas, a large wedge of one of his favourite cheeses, some Quelis, a small bag of almonds, and some seasonal fruits.

Miranda had sent him what equated to a box of love, in his terms. He was incredibly touched, and also very eager to sample everything. He took the items that needed to go into the fridge to the kitchen, where he checked the wine rack: he still had two bottles from the ones he’d been given as a leaving present, so he could enjoy a full Mallorcan experience tonight, eating and drinking the island’s produce while looking at a map and photos of it on his wall. He could even put on the record Miranda had given him and imagine he was back in Cazador, arguing about bullfighting and leading her in the paso doble.

Max picked up his phone to tell Miranda how incredibly grateful he was for the generous gifts. He wished he could see her right now and give her a big hug. That thought gave him a wonderful idea — maybe he should see if she wanted to visit him soon. He’d thought messaging and video calls were enough, but this moment had told him he was overdue for some proper compañera time. It would be nice too to give her a break somewhere new. Hopefully Miranda would agree.

Pausing his task for a moment, he tried a couple of the almonds she’d sent, for quality control purposes, of course. Satisfied they were delicious, he carried on and quickly sent off his enthusiastic message.

Max:
OH WOW! The hamper of goodies is AMAZING!!! Thank you! Gracias! Diolch! Danke! 🥐🧀🍪🍖 You’re the best! 🥰

Max:
Also why are there not enough food emojis? Those are all wrong and this is a hate crime

Miranda:
1 - you’re welcome ☺️ 2 - hate crime? Against…?

Max:
Foodies 🍽

Miranda:
Greed’s a protected characteristic now then, is it?

Max:
Should be. Can’t help the way my brain works 🤷🏻

Miranda:
🙄

Max:
So I was thinking…

Miranda:
Careful now

Max:
🤪

Max:
Anyway, are you taking any holidays?

Miranda:
I’ve got the last week of July off. Inés said I had to use it up

Max:
Any plans?

Miranda:
Not yet

Max:
Come and visit me!

Miranda:
What, seriously?

Max:
Yes! Nobody in my team has booked that week yet, so as the boss I’m giving it to myself 😁 Book your flights and I’ll pick you up at the airport. We can explore the area, besties on tour! 🏖⛰⛲️🏛💃

Miranda:
You don’t have to use up your holidays for me. I’m fine just having a quiet week at home

Max:
Are you kidding? I would absolutely LOVE you to come! I haven’t seen you for ages. And you deserve a break, you know! Pleaseeeee? We’ll have fun 😎

Miranda:
Err, ok. I hadn’t really considered it, but it would be nice to see your new city, and the balcony view you keep going on about

Max:
YESSSSSS 🥳

Miranda:
I’ll have a look at flights in a minute. Are there any nice hotels near you?

Max:
Yes, but you’re staying with me!

Miranda:
It’s ok, I can book somewhere

Max:
I’ve got a spare room with a very comfy double bed that’s got your name all over it. I won’t see as much of you if you’re in a hotel, will I?

Miranda:
Ok then, if you’re sure?

Max:
I am. Get those flights booked! This is so exciting 😁

Miranda:
Ok, I’ll send you the details

Max spent the rest of the day breaking into huge grins each time he thought about either Miranda’s upcoming visit or her parcel of edible love. He felt on top of the world now. He’d been trying to ignore it, but he had been feeling a bit lonely in Málaga — not all the time, but enough. He wasn’t used to living somewhere where he knew nobody, with his solo arrival in Palma over six years previously seeming like a lifetime ago. Knowing that Miranda was out there thinking of him and was even going to visit was a massive boost.

Despite the relative solitude of his new life, Max couldn’t say that he truly regretted his move though: apart from the obvious career benefits and the opportunity to experience a new, vibrant place, it had achieved one very important thing in that he could probably count the number of times he’d thought about Carmen since the start of March on the fingers of one hand. Out of sight, out of mind seemed to be the case there. Only when he’d seen a few of his belongings that reminded him of his ex-girlfriend had he dwelt on the breakup, and not for too long, thankfully.

Max had had no thoughts of looking for anyone new romantically speaking yet, but he had begun to make friends here in Málaga, as he always did wherever he went. It was still early days though, and he sometimes found himself wishing he could talk to his friends back in Palma in person instead. He’d love to be able to just walk into a bar and be surrounded by people he knew, like he had at Joan’s.

Even if he couldn’t be with his old friends as much as he’d like, Max was really pleased that Christian had come to visit twice already. Those two long weekends had really kept him going, and he was looking forward to the next one, which they hoped would be sometime before the end of September. For some reason though, Max found he was even more excited about Miranda coming to see him — maybe because she would be staying for longer? Or because he hadn’t seen her in person as recently as he had Christian?

Whatever the reason he was looking forward to the visit so much, Max decided he wouldn’t waste a single second of Miranda’s week with him; he’d do his utmost to make it a really fantastic holiday for her, since she didn’t go away often. He’d start researching day trips and restaurants over his Mallorcan feast that evening. He’d even make some lists; it was a Miranda vacation and it would be planned Miranda-style, or at least a decent Max attempt at it. If he got it right, it would be the perfect week’s break with his bestie.

…

As she looked up flights to Málaga, Miranda couldn’t help feeling a little nag of worry amongst the happy anticipation. She really was looking forward to her trip, she was sure of that, but it was also quite a big deal. Daunting, even. She and Max had never stayed with each other beyond a couple of enforced work things — sharing a blanket by a campfire or a bathroom in a small hotel in Cazador was about the extent of it, and only for one night at a time. They’d never been the going on holiday together type of friend before. Would they be ok staying in close proximity for a whole week straight away? Would it be too much for her, seeing him right there, yet out of reach?

Miranda’s finger hovered over the mousepad for a couple of seconds before she bit the bullet and purchased her tickets. She’d just have to get on with it and find out how a week with Max would go, she supposed. If she could keep her less-welcome emotions in check it should be a lovely reunion.

…

Inés carefully made her way through the crowded bar near the llotja, weaving as she carried two large drinks to the table where Miranda was waiting, looking intently at her phone. She set the tall glasses down and slid into her seat as her companion lifted her head and smiled faintly.

“Thanks,” Miranda said, taking her glass.

“De nada.” Inés took a couple of sips of her rum concoction. “Mmm, this is a good one.” She set the drink down and leaned back to regard her colleague. Miranda looked a bit tired and on edge, which reminded her boss of something important. “So, are you doing anything with the week off I’m making you take? Something fun, I hope.”

“Actually, yes,” Miranda replied, sounding as if she was surprised about it herself. “I’m going to visit Max.”

Inés broke into a broad smile of genuine relief that Miranda might come back to work refreshed and happy. “Oh, that’s great! It will do you good to get away.”

Miranda stared down at the table, swirling her straw around her glass. “Mmm, I hope so…”

“Ah. Are you still hung up on him?” Inés enquired delicately, having picked up on the internal conflict going on in front of her.

Startled a little, Miranda looked up sharply, then glanced off to the side. “Uhh, yeah, don’t seem to be able to switch that off yet,” she rued. She’d rather not talk about it, if she was honest, but she knew Inés wouldn’t let her get away with changing the subject so quickly — she rather suspected now that this conversation was a significant part of the reason for this outing.

Inés raised her eyebrows. “A whole week together — could be the perfect time to tell him,” she suggested.

A sigh came from Miranda; they’d been over this. “What for?”

“I know you’re here and he’s there, but who says that’s permanent? You’re clearly made for each other, so start with a long distance thing and see where it goes!” Inés took a generous gulp of her cocktail; this was thirsty work, trying to play Cupid.

“I don’t know…” Miranda said quietly, still distractedly stirring her drink, enjoying the gentle clink of ice on glass.

“It’s got to be better than moping about here, single and stuck on him!” Inés exclaimed.

Miranda shot her a pleading look. “But what would I even say though? I think it’s a bad idea.”

“You’ll think of something,” Inés assured her with a confident wave of her hand.

“Hmm.” Back to the hypnotic gin whirlpool.

Urging her to be brave, Inés reached across the table and touched Miranda’s arm. “Please just get it over with!”

“Stop pushing me!” Miranda’s appetite for the discussion had definitely been exhausted now and she was getting irritable. She stared down at where Inés’s fingers were still making contact with her, wondering if it would be a step too far to actually brush them off.

Inés withdrew her hand hastily, realising that what she’d done constituted a boundary violation to the touch-averse Miranda. “Sometimes you need a little push, ok, and so does he, but he’s in Andalucía so you’re getting it all,” she shrugged.

“Great,” Miranda muttered with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

Inés shot her lovesick colleague a mischievous wink. She wasn’t beyond a little interfering in her officers’ private lives if she deemed it strictly necessary, and she had never seen two friends who needed to take things up a notch more than this pair of idiotas. Somebody had to sort them out for their own good. And for everyone else around them’s sakes too. It was practically a public service at this point, she decided, and she was a public servant, was she not?

Chapter Text

Late on Saturday afternoon, Miranda strode along the way out of Baggage Reclaim with butterflies in her stomach; she couldn’t help being nervous about what feelings would surface the moment she saw her compañero again. As she entered Arrivals, she scanned the sea of faces ahead of her. She quickly spotted Max off to the right, feeling a lurch in her chest that told her that her love for him had not diminished with time and distance. The rapid grin on his face told her he’d seen her and was thrilled about it too.

Max flung his arms open as Miranda approached, wheeling her case along beside her. As soon as she stopped, he pulled her forward and swept her up in a huge hug, spinning her round with her feet off the ground. She stumbled a little when he eventually put her back down, trying to temper her smile — it wouldn’t do to show just how much she’d actually liked that, not if it gave anything away that needed to remain hidden. Max didn’t know that he’d become the only one she enjoyed physical contact with, and if she didn’t want the reason for that to be revealed, it had to stay that way.

“It’s so good to see you properly,” Max said with obvious sincerity, trying to take in every detail of Miranda’s face after the long break in seeing it for real.

“Umm, you too,” she replied nervously. She tucked her hair behind her ears and reached for her case.

“Here, let me,” Max insisted. He put his fingers on the handle before hers could get to it.

“I’m perfectly capable of moving my own luggage around, Max,” she told him defensively, her hands on her hips now.

“Did I say that you weren’t?” he retorted. “I’m just trying to do something nice since you’ve had a tiring time travelling, while I’ve been lounging around.” What Max chose not to reveal here was that he’d actually been alternating between pacing around his flat, tidying up, and stress-snacking on pistachios and a bag of the salt and vinegar crisps he’d stocked up on for her visit. He’d been so excited he’d even uncharacteristically arrived twenty minutes early, which he was now expecting to cost a small fortune in airport car parking charges.

Miranda reddened; in snapping at Max she’d been rude without really meaning to again. “Oh. Sorry,” she told him with remorse. She moved back to let him take her case, then followed after him as he set off to the car park, smiling at his back before she caught him up.

…

“So, this is your room. I’ll let you get settled in and then we can go for drinks and dinner?” Max suggested. He stepped out of the second bedroom, where he’d just left Miranda’s case in the corner by the window.

“Thanks,” Miranda told him as he started to walk towards the living room to give her some space. She stepped into the room, her eye immediately catching something odd. She returned to the doorway and called out to her host. “Err, Max, why are there post-it notes saying ‘Miranda’ all over the bed?”

Max spun round and shot her a grin that showed how very pleased he was with himself. “I told you it had your name written all over it.”

“If this wasn’t your apartment, I’d tell you to get out,” she replied, shaking her head.

Max was undeterred. “Come on, nothing wrong with a little dad humour.”

“You’re not a dad.”

Max tilted his head thoughtfully. “Not yet. Maybe one day. Anyway, I’ll wait in the living room. No rush.” He walked off again.

Miranda went back into the guest room and sat on her bed, thinking about what he’d just said. She had never decided herself whether she wanted children, and without a partner she’d figured it was a moot point anyway — it was definitely too daunting to attempt solo. She recalled a couple of times when the topic had come up in conversation with Carmen, and although she’d been cut to the core to see her and Max apparently moving towards domesticity, she’d thought at the time what a nice dad Max would make. Fun, kind, caring, and fairly responsible, these days; there was nobody else she’d consider it with.

She suddenly gave herself a shake. What the hell was she thinking?! She was supposed to be trying to see Max as just a friend still, hard as it might be — musing about how he’d be the only one she’d have as the father of her potential children was not the way to go about it! Enough thinking now, she resolved; time to go out in Málaga and try to relax, or whatever it was you were supposed to do on holidays.

…

The rest of the first evening was spent bar-hopping, trying tapas, and catching up properly. They begun the night at Casa Antigua de Guardia, a small, old-fashioned place on the way between the heart of the city centre and Max’s new home. They sampled the famous sweet Málaga wine, and Max ordered a plate of juicy prawns to start the evening’s grazing off. This was the first of many delectable dishes he ordered for them, his joy at the reunion with Miranda bubbling over into his appetite.

A little after midnight, they both wearily agreed that it was finally time to head home if they wanted to be fresh enough to explore before it got too hot the next day. They spilled out into the summer night, happy and warm from wine, the sultry Andalusian heat, and their precious friendship. That first evening had been everything Max had hoped for, and almost everything Miranda had too.

…

When Miranda woke the next morning, it took a few seconds of confusion for her to realise that she was in Max’s apartment. She’d slept so well it hadn’t felt too dissimilar to being at home. Perhaps this trip really would be relaxing, although from the impressive plans Max had shown her before they’d gone to bed, they’d be fitting a lot into the week. She couldn’t help feeling touched that he’d gone to so much trouble to plan for her stay. What a sweet man. He must really like her.

As a friend, a voice in her head screamed, he likes you as a friend, and just a friend. She couldn’t help wondering yet again if there was even the tiniest chance that there was more to it though, especially after what Inés had said about giving things a go. Should she really tell him how she felt and see if he felt that way too? Could she even get the words out if the chance arose though?

Almost as soon as these thoughts began, she shut them down again. She wasn’t that brave. Or was it foolish? She’d need a very strong sign to even consider opening up like that; she was not one for gambling, especially when the strongest friendship of her life was at stake.

…

Max’s plan for the first full day was an extensive one. After a wander and a coffee in the main shopping district, they headed through the historic cathedral area and across to Muelle Uno, or Pier One, a part of the harbour that had recently been redeveloped into an outdoor leisure complex, full of bars, restaurants and shops.

A deliberately light lunch by the waterside was followed by a climb past the ruins of the Roman theatre into the Moorish alcazaba palace with its peaceful gardens and elegant water features, and up all the way to the top of the steep hill to the imposing Gibralfaro fortress at the summit, from where there was a view over the city and the Mediterranean that beat even Max’s. With the sun beating down on them as they stood at the ramparts admiring the expansive vista, Max decided it was time for a drink and a rest. The left the fortress and walked the short way to the Parador hotel just along the hill, where they ordered some refreshing tinto de verano and recovered from the ascent under the shade of a large parasol.

Back at Max’s apartment after their hilltop excursion, they took a couple of hours to recuperate from the exertions of the day, sipping cool lemonade with rosemary and ginger in the shadow of the balcony awning.

Max shifted position with a small groan. “My feet are kind of tired. Ok if we stay in one place tonight?”

“Fine by me,” Miranda replied with a yawn. The heat and the city tour had left her feeling the need for minimal movement for the rest of the day.

“Great, I’ll take you to El Pimpi then,” Max declared. “It’s quite famous. They have all these barrels signed by celebrities, like Antonio Banderas and Picasso’s daughter, Paloma.”

…

El Pimpi turned out to be a large bodega-bar opposite the Roman theatre ruins. It was made up of a series of interconnected halls and patios, all decorated in a typical Andalucían style: white walls, terracotta-tiled floors, dark wooden ceiling beams, vintage fiesta posters, hams hanging down from hooks behind the bar, colourful decorative wall tiles, plant pots with bright red geraniums tumbling out of them, and the occasional bull’s head affixed to the wall, as well as several large barrels signed in chalk by visiting celebrities. Max and Miranda passed a happy few hours in these convivial surroundings, sampling fried aubergine slices with molasses, huevos rotos, garlicky prawns, sweet roasted red peppers, and a malagueña salad of salt cod, oranges and potatoes.

“So, Ronda tomorrow?” Max checked as they finished the evening with some more sweet Málaga wine.

Miranda tried to recall her research. “That’s the white town built around a big gorge?”

“Yeah, looks really cool. I’ve been meaning to go for a while. It’s kind of important in the history and culture of the bullfight.” Max raised a provocative eyebrow at his friend.

“Let’s not get started on that conversation again,” Miranda sighed.

“No, you’re meant to be relaxing!” Max reminded her. “We’ll skip the bullring.”

Miranda nodded firmly. “Agreed.”

…

The morning of the excursion to Ronda was a mixed one: in one direction was clear blue sky, and in the other dark, threatening clouds. Miranda checked the forecast before they set off and informed Max that it should be ok as the afternoon was due to be clear and dry. Max was happy that even if it did rain, they could just dive into a bar and escape it, waiting things out over a drink and perhaps a snack or two.

They arrived in the ancient hilltop town about an hour and a half after they had set off. The journey had been scenic and pleasant, but by the time they had parked up as close to the town centre as possible, Miranda had had more than enough of the Europop Max had been subjecting her to.

Strolling towards the most historic districts, they couldn’t help noticing the preponderance of footwear shops. It seemed at one point as if the town was just an alternating sequence of bar, shoe shop, pharmacy, newsagent, all on repeat.

“For a small town, this place has a hell of a lot of shoe shops,” Miranda remarked as they’d just passed two more.

“Yeah, it really does.” That gave Max ideas. “Hey, let’s buy some!”

Miranda wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure I need any.”

“It’s not about need, it’s about want this time. You see a pair you like and I’ll treat you,” Max offered with a generous smile.

Miranda gave him an embarrassed look. She just couldn’t get used to having a friend who liked to buy her gifts for no particular reason, even if she had somehow started doing that for him. “You don’t have to,” she told him awkwardly.

“I want to! Ooh, how about we get dancing shoes and then we can go out one night? Try out our moves?” Max grabbed hold of Miranda’s forearm in his eagerness, desperate for her to agree.

Miranda looked at him through narrowed eyes, feeling her skin prickle at his touch. “You want to dance with me?” She couldn’t work out if there was a deeper meaning to the request, given what had almost happened both of the previous times they’d danced together.

“Course I want to dance with you! I love a good dance!” Max gave her a sideways look. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it when we danced before.”

Miranda kept her gaze straight ahead as she struggled with this conversation that was getting very close to requiring her to lie. “Uhh, I, uhh…” Her mind had drawn a blank.

Max elbowed her. “You loved it! That’s settled then.” He stopped in his tracks and gestured towards a shop door. “Let’s go in this one.”

Inside the smart shop, the two friends separated and headed to their respective sections, Max stopping on the way to check with a member of staff that they had his size. Happily, he’d picked the right place as they did have a few pairs that could accommodate his rather large feet. After a little while browsing, Max selected a smart brown pair, and Miranda settled on some high-heeled sandals with a crisscross design that wrapped up her ankle.

Max showed off his choice to Miranda as they met in the middle of the shop. “What do you think?”

”Oh, very smart,” she told him with a smile.

Max grinned. “I’ll get them then. Are you getting those ones?” He gestured at the pair she was wearing to try out for a few more steps before committing.

“They’re not too much?” Miranda asked, unsure now under his scrutiny. She hoped she hadn’t gone for too high a price tag or too fancy a sandal.

Max shook his head emphatically. “No, I like them. Sexy. Let’s go and pay.” He walked off to the till, leaving Miranda to switch back into her original shoes and think about what he’d just said.

Outside the shop with their purchases made, Max frowned at his phone and then looked to Miranda, clearly puzzled. “I just got a really weird text from Inés. ‘Hope you’re making the most of Miranda being with you. Don’t waste this opportunity, tonto!’ Opportunity for what?”

Miranda made it her urgent business to look anywhere but at Max. “No idea,” she said offhandedly as she could manage, while her heart raced and thundered in her chest. “Just send her an emoji and forget it.”

“Yeah. She’s been strange lately. I had to call her for a work thing a while ago and she said something odd. What was it?” Max scrabbled for the words his old boss had used. “‘Have you even started to come to your senses about your love life yet?’ And then something like ‘it’s so obvious!’” He shrugged in confusion.

Miranda swallowed hard and continued staring off across the street, inwardly cursing Inés. “Did she?!”

“Weird, right? I asked her to explain, but she said I had to think about it.” Max’s tone made of clear that that had got him nowhere.

“An enigma,” Miranda muttered.

“Wrapped in a mystery.” Max slipped his phone into his pocket and they began their exploration of the town again.

Until lunchtime, they wandered the newer part of Ronda, passing but not entering the bullring, looking in souvenir shops and delis, and admiring the architecture of the white town. They stopped for lunch at a restaurant Max knew had good reviews, where he ordered rabo de toro, since they were in a bullfighting town. Miranda chose the lighter cod with almond cream and spinach sauce.

When they had finished eating, they decided to take in the views of the gorge and out across to the mountains of the Serranía de Ronda. They walked down to the unusually tall stone bridge that connected the two sides of the town across the deep gorge, then headed around the edge of the cliff to a viewpoint to take some photos of the dramatic scenery.

After a while out in the hot afternoon sun, it was time to cool off with a chilled drink, so they made their way to an outdoor table at the bar of the luxurious Parador hotel, which occupied a prime position overlooking the gorge, being built in the old town hall. They sat admiring the view, hoping that the clouds massing over the mountains would either dissipate as forecast or at least head away from them.

Next on the itinerary was the old part of the town, where the Moorish remnants were to be found. They crossed the bridge over the Tajo gorge, stopping for a few photos on the way, including a couple of selfies that they decided might even replace the opera picture as the best photo of them together.

The smaller half of the town was even more impressive than the larger, newer one. This side of the precipitous gorge was where the very oldest buildings were, including a Moorish palace and a fourteenth-century minaret. Max and Miranda explored the jumble of windy streets and quaint plazas with tall palm trees and trickling fountains dotted about. Max remarked on what a romantic place it was, while Miranda wrestled with what that meant for her.

As the afternoon wore on, the clouds that had looked so threatening earlier had only grown darker and nearer. Miranda thought they should head back to the car, but Max persuaded her to visit the old Moorish baths quickly first, so they headed down the hill to the ruins. It was cool and dim inside the bath-house, with the complex lit up via intricate star-shaped skylights in the vaulted roof. Being there put an idea into Max’s head.

“How about a chilled beach day tomorrow?” he suggested. “Eat a bit of seafood, swim a little…”

Miranda nodded. “A rest day might be good — space the excursions out.”

Max smiled at her easy acceptance of his plan. “Great! So do we need to go shopping for you or did you bring a bikini?”

“Uhh, yeah, I brought one.” Miranda felt extremely nervous about him seeing her in it.

Max smiled. “Perfect! My trunks have got a hole in them, so I do need a quick stop on the way for some new ones. You can help me pick.”

Miranda bit her lip. She managed to respond with “mm-hmm” as she tried to banish images of Max in swimwear from her brain. The last time she’d seen him in a state of undress had been when she’d caught him topless in bed a couple of days into knowing him. Three years had not wiped that memory at all. Tomorrow would sear some new ones into her mind, it seemed.

Feeling the oppressive closeness of a thunderstorm brewing, Max and Miranda made their way to the ancient bridges that crossed the lower part of the gorge, aiming to get back to the car before the clouds broke above them. They were unlucky; just as they had crossed back into the other half of the town and were passing a monumental ancient drinking fountain in the middle of a dusty square, large drops of heavy rain began to fall and there was an almighty crack of thunder that felt like it was rumbling all around them. Max and Miranda shot each other a look of alarm and began to run up the hill for shelter as the storm started to soak them.

It was a couple of minutes before Miranda spotted any edifice that could shield them from the rain. At a corner, there was a large portico supported by stone columns with thin human figures carved into them. Miranda reached behind her and grabbed Max’s arm to pull him after her and under the welcome roof. Panting, they leaned against the white wall behind them, both of them almost as wet as if they’d actually made use of the bathhouse.

They waited out the worst of the storm in what a plaque on the wall revealed to be an open chapel from the eighteenth century. When the rain had stopped bouncing off the road and had abated to a warm drizzle, they left their sanctuary and made their way back to the car, squelching with every step.

“Wish I’d brought spare clothes,” Miranda moaned.

“Ah-ha! Guess who learned from that time at the nature reserve and now always has a few things in his car boot?” Max beamed proudly and jerked his thumbs towards his chest.

“I’m impressed!”

Max’s face fell a little. “Yeah, well, I’m not sure what exactly I have, since I had to use some stuff a couple of weeks ago… Eh, we’ll manage.”

Back at the car it turned out that what was left was a blue T-shirt and a green linen shirt. Not ideal, but better than nothing.

Max assessed their options. “Ok, well you can wear my shirt because it’ll be like a dress on you, and I’ll take the T-shirt. My shorts are drying off in the heat already anyway, now the rain’s stopped.”

Thankfully, Max had put the roof up on his car before they’d set off into the town. They took turns now to use the interior as a makeshift changing room, one standing in front of the window to shield the other from view.

As they prepared to depart, Max couldn’t help thinking that Miranda looked really very attractive in his shirt, sitting there with her legs almost completely bare. His mind decided to enhance the outfit by picturing her wearing her sexy new sandals too. That was some unexpected fantasising, he thought as they drove off in silence.

At his side, Miranda was having some thoughts of her own. Max’s T-shirt was showing off his arms rather nicely. He’d mentioned before that he worked out, and his attire now was revealing that he’d stepped up the weightlifting since he’d moved to Málaga. Thank god for sunglasses so he can’t see me looking, Miranda thought.

Half an hour into the quiet return journey, both of them were wondering if they were imagining things. Max was almost sure that Miranda checking out his arms and chest every so often, while she was trying to figure out if the occasional graze of his hand on her leg as he changed gear was deliberate or just his clumsiness.

…

Tuesday brought perfect weather for their beach day: sunny, but with a refreshing light breeze. After a breakfast of croissants and fruit, they walked to a department store on the way to Malagueta beach, just behind Muelle Uno. Max had been before and took them straight to the men's swimwear department, where he began browsing through the rails of trunks.

Miranda, meanwhile, had caught sight of some tiny Speedos and was picturing Max in the skimpy swimwear, cringing about how embarrassing her brain was and trying to think of literally anything else. Diverting her thoughts while in a swimwear section with the man she was in love with proved rather difficult though. She lurked awkwardly on the edge while Max flicked through the items for sale.

After five minutes, Max had selected three pairs to try on. He went to the changing room in the corner, while Miranda sat on a chair outside it to wait for him.

A little while later, Miranda heard a hissing. "Pssst! Miranda!" came the noise from the changing room.

Miranda called back into the screened-off area. "What?"

"Come in; I need your opinion!"

Miranda blanched. "I can’t go in there!"

"Just stick your head in for a second!" Max requested, not seeing the problem.

"No!" she cried, annoyed at him asking. It felt like breaking the rules, and she hated that, unless it was absolutely necessary. This was clearly optional.

"Please!" Max begged. "Pleeeeeaaaaseee?"

Resigned that he wasn't about to give up, Miranda sighed and stood up. "It better be a second," she told him sternly as she ducked into the changing room.

Max grinned at her relenting. He posed with his hands on his hips, chest puffed out and stomach sucked in. "What do you think?"

Miranda looked down at his body, trying to concentrate on the question. This was not easy; she'd never seen this much of Max before. "Uhh..."

Looking down at the blue swimming trunks he'd decided were the most flattering, Max tried to determine whether they were worth the money. "The fit is ok? And the colour?" he checked.

Miranda nodded. "Mmm, matches your eyes." She gave herself a little shake; she'd sounded like a dreamy character in a romcom. Yuck.

"Cool! I’ll get these if you approve?"

Miranda was silent for a second, still not fully focussing on the conversation. "Oh, yes... yes. Get those."

Max smiled, happy he'd made a good choice. "Great!" He waited for a moment for her to leave him to get dressed again, but she didn't seem to understand. "You can go now?" he tried gently.

Jolted back out of her beach fantasy, Miranda flushed. "Oh… yeah. Sorry." She scurried away, embarrassed at the effect his body had had on her; she was supposed to be a strong, independent woman, not a teenager with a crush. At least Max was the only one who had this spell over her.

…

With Max all kitted out, they walked towards the nearest beach, stopping on the way at the long park that ran parallel to the harbourfront. All around them green parakeets squawked in the trees and small children ran, finding statues amongst the palms and racing each other for a spot on the slide in the playground.

They crossed to Muelle Uno and cut through to the long sandy beach that stretched far beyond the city limits. The golden strand was already covered with groups of families and friends sunning themselves. Max and Miranda strolled along the hot sand until they found a spot to lay their towels and access the warm waters of the Mediterranean, gently lapping the shore.

As they laid their belongings out, Max realised something important. His swimming trunks were still in their bag and not on his body. He turned to Miranda with a wheedling expression. “Can you help me change, please?”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “We could’ve found a toilet on the way, you know.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think about it until we got here,” Max protested.

“Obviously." She looked him up and down impatiently. "How do we do this?”

Max thought about the logistics for a second. “Umm. Hold the towel round me and I will try and change without giving anyone a show.” He shot a cheeky wink at his friend, who was wondering how close she’d have to stand to him and for how long.

“Ok, quickly then,” she agreed. She was embarrassed for him, and anxious that the proximity would cause her mask to slip.

“No peeking!” Max joked as the changing operation got under way and he dropped his trousers and underwear to his ankles.

Miranda sighed. Half of her would like to give him a slap, and the other half would like to disobey. She didn't even want to think about having to help him apply his suncream yet, or worse, having him rub it on her. It was going to be bad enough trying not to check him out without bringing touching each other into the equation.

Once Max had sorted himself out and the fraught suncream application was dealt with, he and Miranda spent a happy few hours at the beach, breaking up their swimming and basking with a late lunch at a nearby chiringuito. They ordered an espeto of sardines, a method of cooking the small fish peculiar to the area. Most of the beach shacks around there had a rowing boat outside filled with sand and piled on top with wood fires, over which sardines and other seafood cooked, impaled on metal spears angled to catch the crackling heat.

When they had had enough of sunning themselves and taking a dip in the salty Mediterranean, Max and Miranda stopped at a bar in Muelle Uno and treated themselves to cocktails. Feeling a little wobbly afterwards, they chose to spend the night in at Max's apartment, treating themselves to a takeaway pizza and playing some games in person for a change. Of course, Miranda was the overall winner.

…

Wednesday was the appointed day for a trip to the historic city of Córdoba, by train this time since the high-speed line would get them there in under an hour. The day passed pleasantly in the beautiful city, founded by the Romans and later used as a capital by the Moors.

After a visit to the famous Cathedral-Mosque with its hundreds of red-striped arches supported by a forest of narrow columns, and its large patio filled with orange trees, Max led them to a cosy restaurant to try some local specialities. He ordered salmorejo, a thick tomato soup or dip served cold like gazpacho; flamenquín, a long roll of pork, ham and cheese, coated in crispy breadcrumbs; and more of his beloved rabo de toro.

Some wandering around the historic centre brought them to Roman ruins, the old palace and formal gardens of the Christian monarchs, winding whitewashed alleys with flowerpot-lined walls, secluded patios bursting with greenery and splashes of bright colour, and ancient city walls and gates. They couldn’t move without seeing something impossibly picturesque or culturally significant. With the sun beating down on them as they made their tour, they took stops for sharp, refreshing lemon-flavoured ice cream, and crisp, dry Montilla-Moriles wine served in sherry glasses from a traditional bodega.

By the time their train was speeding its route south and the orange sun was dipping in the sky, Max was so worn out that he fell asleep sitting up, rocked by the motion of the journey. Miranda smiled across at him — somehow he always looked adorable when he was sleeping. She’d decided she’d have to make sure he went straight to bed when they got back if he was going to be refreshed for tomorrow’s outing.

…

Thursday was designated for a visit to the old Moorish city of Granada, about an hour and a half’s drive northeast. Max had booked them tickets for the Alhambra, the famous Moorish palace and gardens complex that sprawled over a large hill in the east of the city. He and Miranda spent a lovely few hours marvelling at the intricate stuccoed plaster work and decorative patterned tiles of the palaces, and enjoying the verdant shade and tinkling fountains of the lush gardens and courtyards.

The afternoon was spent wandering the district around the cathedral and the main shopping streets, grazing on the tapas that came free with most drinks in this city. Next they moved into the Albaicín, the sprawling neighbourhood next to the Alhambra that was made up of historic monuments, hotels, spas, and restaurants serving North African cuisine, all arranged mostly on the jumbled mediaeval street plan. This area seemed to attract a lot of young people on gap years, many of them clad in tie-dye and busking with guitars and bongos. Miranda couldn’t help wondering if they had the correct permits.

Heading further along by the river Darro, they stopped in the Sacromonte district, where traditionally gitanos had long made their homes in caves. These stone dwellings were now largely turned into flamenco clubs or other attractions. Max and Miranda took in an early show, Max joining in the clapping and cries of “ole!” enthusiastically.

Buzzing from the emotional song and dance, Max led them to a mirador back in the Albaicín, where dozens of people had gathered for the fantastic sunset view of the Alhambra on the opposite hill. Photos taken, they chose a restaurant and sampled a delicious, fruity lamb tagine and spiced couscous, followed by mint tea and sweet, sticky pastries.

Exhausted by another day on the go, they decided on the drive home to make Miranda’s last full day a more sedate one, just in Málaga. Talk of their week together nearly being over had both of them feeling a little down and Max felt the need to cheer them both up by tuning the car radio into a station playing upbeat pop. Miranda was glad he’d chosen something of a better standard than on the journey to Ronda.

…

“Picasso museum first?” Max queried as they left his apartment building on Friday morning.

“Sure,” Miranda agreed. “Though he was a raging misogynist. I’ll have to separate the art from the artist, if I can.”

Max grimaced. “Yeah, two wives, several mistresses, strings of affairs… I don’t know how he found the time to paint!”

Irritated, Miranda snapped her head round at him. “That’s your objection to the way he treated women?!”

“No, of course not!” Max protested as they walked towards the historic core of the city. “You know how I am; I’m a feminist and very much a one-woman guy. When I have a girlfriend, I really try not to even think about other women. I like it just the two of us: probably starting as friends, then falling in love, devoted to each other, a little intimate twosome — it’s great!”

Miranda took a moment to respond; she was caught up by the way he’d phrased what he’d said. “The two of us”. Us. She was reminded of that excruciating flirty chat about birds they had had once, when she been startled by the pronoun he’d used for them. “Uhh… yeah, I know you’re not like that at all,” she allowed quietly.

A nudge in the side came from Max. “You wouldn’t be friends with me if I was.”

Miranda smiled. “Exactly. I have standards.”

“I know, and hardly anyone lives up to them — I feel like one of the chosen few.” He lightly touched her arm in a show of grateful affection. “Kind of limits your chances for anything else though. If you even want a relationship…?” The question was tentative; they generally stayed away from this topic.

Miranda took a deep breath and sighed it out almost silently. This visit had been so good, yet so confusing. “I honestly don’t know what I want right now,” she stated flatly.

“I get it,” Max reassured her. “I mean, I’m probably ready to move on, but there’s nobody I know here that I want to move on with. Maybe a relationship isn’t for me right now. I’d rather hang out with you, even when you’re in Palma.” He shot Miranda a warm smile and something passed between them in their gaze, locked in electricity for a second.

“Err, same. There’s nobody.” She managed to bite down on the word “else” that was threatening to add itself to the end of that sentence. Troubled by the conversation, she managed to keep the topics lighter for a while, and soon enough they had arrived at their destination, housed in an old palace.

Inside the museum, Miranda was able to get past her moral objections enough to take in some of the art knowledge Max had gleaned, and by the end of the visit she found she’d quite enjoyed it. She’d always loved it when Max got onto a topic he knew quite a bit about, usually something cultural and surprisingly highbrow.

The rest of the day they took it easy, strolling the streets and stopping for cold drinks and ice creams. Miranda appreciated the huge awnings strung up high over Calle Marqués de Larios, affording much-needed shade over the busy shopping street. When the afternoon heat felt like it was radiating back out of the buildings and the air shimmered with a wavering haze, they traipsed back to Max’s place to rest and get ready to go out for the evening once the sun had started to dip.

The night began at Antigua Casa de Guardia again, minus the prawns this time because Max had booked a restaurant he’d been wanting to try for a while and didn’t want to risk denting his appetite. After a couple of small glasses of Málaga wine they weaved their path out of the chattering Friday night crowd and back onto the streets.

The restaurant Max had chosen was situated not too far away in a pretty square right next to the cathedral. This plaza was lined with places to eat and the rows of tables outside them spilled out towards a large stone fountain in the middle. Max had specifically requested one of these tables because he knew that in the summer months live bands played for the diners at the weekend. His and Miranda’s new dancing shoes would soon be put to use.

The lively music started up as Max and Miranda were sharing a hot chocolate fondant and vanilla ice cream. Max was so keen to get up that he had to remind himself to savour the delicious dessert. Miranda refused his first invitation to dance, wanting to let her food go down for a few minutes, but when a song that Max could barely sit still to was being played she agreed to join him.

Max swung his friend about the square, twirling her and dipping, grinning the whole time. They carried on their energetic dance for a few songs, until a slow number began. Miranda started to turn and go back to their table, but Max caught her waist.

“Please?” he begged. “I don’t want to stop yet!”

The look on his face was so eager that Miranda didn’t have the heart to turn him down, even though she was scared about what might happen. They’d had such a lovely week so far and she didn’t want to spoil things by wanting him so much that she might give her feelings away. The fear of him rejecting her in any way was too much and she’d resigned herself to not following through on Inés’s advice.

Pushing down her misgivings, Miranda got into position with Max and he led her slowly around the plaza, holding her to him. A couple of minutes in, Miranda became aware that Max was staring at her. Worried she was doing something wrong, she looked up at him.

She hadn’t made any misstep; the expression on Max’s face was the familiar look of surprised desire he’d worn the last two times they’d danced, when it had seemed they were about to kiss. Miranda felt like her heart might burst out of her chest. Her stomach was churning now and it seemed as if a ringing had started in her ears.

As Max’s face loomed ardently before her, Miranda’s thoughts raced. It was finally going to happen, this kiss she’d waited for, for years now. Did he really feel that way? Was that what all the nice comments, the gifts, the ambiguous flirting were about? The sexy shoes, the brushing her thigh, the smouldering looks, the chat about relationships? None of those things had been enough for her to take any chances, but now…? Now she was determined to stay in the moment and see what happened.

Max gave her a shy little smile as he stopped right before their lips met. Miranda couldn’t help returning it and that was all the encouragement Max needed. He touched his lips to hers, softly at first, then quickly with a firmer passion as he felt her begin to reciprocate and melt into him.

Miranda put her all into this kiss. She had wanted this so long, wanted him so long. So why was something at the back of her mind now yelling at her to stop it? A couple of seconds later it clicked: this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This was just a whim to Max, just a thing they did after a glass of wine and a couple of turns around the dance floor. It didn’t mean the same to him as it did to her. She wanted love; he wanted a cheeky snog. She deserved more than this imbalance.

With all the will she could muster Miranda brought her hands down from Max’s shoulders and placed them on his chest. She pushed him backwards, breaking off the kiss with a pitiful look of disappointment. Quickly, she turned and almost ran back to their table. She sat down, trembling and staring at the tabletop in horror.

Max joined her, sitting opposite and looking apologetic. “I’m so sorry!” he told her desperately.

Miranda didn’t react at all, so he carried on, hoping to pull her out of her anguished trance. “I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No,” she replied, finally looking up.

Max’s face was pinched in pain. “Are you ok?” he tried.

She nodded almost mechanically. “I’m fine. Just, that can’t happen again, unless— It can’t happen again, ok?” She dug her fingernails into her thigh, punishing herself for that “unless”.

Max shook his head vehemently. “No way. I understand if you want to keep your distance from me after this.” He winced, praying that she wouldn’t want that.

“No, Max, you’re my best friend and I don’t want this to ruin it. Let’s forget it. It’s in the past, ok?” She looked at him with a quiet, steady gaze that belied the turmoil within.

“Ok. It’s forgotten.” He risked a cautious smile.

“Good. Let’s go back — I’m tired and I should pack.” Miranda looked around for a waiter so that they could pay. The sooner they could leave, the sooner she could go to bed and be alone with her thoughts.

…

“Morning!” Max greeted Miranda brightly as he approached the dining table, where she was breakfasting on tea and toast.

“Morning,” she replied, hoping it hadn’t come out as awkward as she felt.

Max pulled out a chair round the corner of the table from her. “Hey, so, are we ok?” he enquired softly.

“Huh?” Her policy from now on was to try to pretend nothing had happened, as far as that were possible.

“Last night — I kissed you.” Max swallowed hard and looked at his friend expectantly.

“Oh, that,” she replied dismissively, trying to act like it was such a trifling incident that it barely registered with her. “Told you, it’s in the past.”

Max leaned back in his chair and smiled; he was mostly convinced. “Ok, phew. We can forget it and move on again.”

Miranda tilted her head. “Though maybe we shouldn’t dance anymore.”

“Yeah, sorry. Seems to make me get carried away,” Max replied with a guilty grimace.

“Yes, calm down. You’re not Johnny in ‘Dirty Dancing’,” she berated him.

Max put on a look of mock surprise and hurt. “What do you mean? I look just like him!”

A tut was Miranda’s first response to this bold claim. “In your dreams, sunshine.” Now that she thought about it, he’d played the role a few times in her dreams, ever since he’d made her watch the film as part of her cultural education. She hoped her face wasn’t giving that away.

Max laughed. “Anyway, rubbish day today. Can’t believe you have to go already!” He pouted with exaggerated sadness.

“I know, it’s gone too quickly,” Miranda agreed. It felt like only a couple of days.

“You’ll have to come back soon,” Max informed her with a shrug. “What do you want to do for your last couple of hours?”

“Don’t mind.” She didn’t, as long as it was with him — and didn’t make her late for her afternoon flight back to Palma.

Max thought through the options. “There’s a nice café with a good view if you fancy just a quiet time? We can talk about your next visit here, and mine to Palma.”

“Perfect.” A gentle chat sounded lovely, as long as it stayed well away from talk of relationships, specifically theirs.

…

After a pleasant couple of hours in each other’s company, they returned to Max’s flat so Miranda could finish off packing before the short drive to the airport. With a flash of clarity, Max remembered that Christian had left behind a small bottle of Málaga wine on his last visit, which Miranda now agreed to take back to him. Max was secretly pleased to give her an excuse to meet up with their friend, since he suspected she might be too shy to make the contact otherwise. He hated to think of her lonely without him.

…

“So, this is goodbye for now,” Max uttered with heartfelt regret as they stood near the entrance to the airport security check that would take Miranda on the first stage of her journey away from him.

“Until you text me before I’ve even boarded and we do a video call before the weekend’s over,” she smirked back.

“You know what I mean.”

Miranda smiled, relenting. “I do. Thank you for such a wonderful holiday, Max. I had fun.” She hoped that had sounded sincere, because she really meant it.

“Did you?” he queried, echoing her question from their first case all that time ago.

Miranda's face was deadly serious. “Oh yes, I enjoyed it all. Every minute.”

Max grinned, relieved. His plans had paid off, and last night's error hadn’t ruined it all. “Me too. Let’s not leave the next visit too long?”

“Definitely not,” she agreed firmly.

Max opened his arms for a farewell hug. Miranda hesitated for only a split-second before accepting and leaning into him, feeling the precarious safety of his warm embrace. This time, Max was circumspect; he did not even attempt a goodbye cheek kiss.

Miranda wrenched herself reluctantly away and the two friends said their goodbyes, before she headed off to the security check. Max waved as she went through, then stayed until she disappeared from view into the Departures area. He'd miss her so much. He already did.

Chapter Text

Miranda sighed as she put her phone into flight mode, ready for her plane back to Palma to take off. Just as predicted, Max had been texting her as she hung about waiting to board, saying again how great it had been to see her and wondering about when he should come to Palma. There was barely a second since they’d parted a couple of hours earlier when he hadn’t been on her mind. Christ, how could she miss him this much after just leaving him, she thought with annoyance. She tried to think about something else. Anything.

The distractions of what might await her at work and what she needed to get from the supermarket when she got back to El Molinar only worked briefly. Her plane’s trajectory had barely begun to level off before she found herself scrolling through photos of the last week, zooming in on Max and feeling a longing in her chest. This was most definitely heartache and she felt stupidly pathetic for it.

She really had to get it into her head at last that they would always just be friends. This pining had gone on for far too long already. It was even worse now that the week together had confirmed he definitely wasn’t interested. There had been plenty of opportunities for Max to declare his feelings, so she had to conclude that he just didn’t have them. Even that wonderful, heart-swelling, beautiful kiss hadn’t triggered a declaration. If that couldn’t do it, nothing would.

…

That first afternoon and evening without Miranda, Max didn’t know what to do with himself. The apartment felt so quiet and empty without her. It seemed wrong somehow that she wasn’t there. What great friends they were now that he would feel so bereft without her, he mused.

When he wasn’t messaging his bestie before and after her flight, Max filled the lonely hours with short tasks, hanging out the bedding and towel she’d put on to wash right before leaving, going to the nearest supermarket for provisions, and tidying up the kitchen. A fair amount of boredom-induced snacking went on too.

As midnight approached and Miranda had messaged him her goodnight, Max had a sudden urge to play what he now thought of as their song. He reverently placed the Pata Negra record on the turntable and sank back into the sofa to enjoy the music with his eyes shut.

He thought about how that song had been performed the very first time they had danced. They’d had a lot more firsts this week; the first time they’d spent so much continuous time together, the first time she’d stayed at his home, the first holiday together, the first shopping trips, the first beach outing that hadn’t been a work thing or a fully-dressed picnic… their first — and last — kiss.

That kiss had been pretty damn good while it lasted, he recalled with fondness. Really steamy. Shame it was the wrong thing to do, even though it had felt right at the time. He was relieved he hadn’t properly messed things up between them despite his spontaneous line-crossing. He’d have never forgiven himself for driving his best friend away.

And what a friend she was. Her company this week had been just what he needed. That it included seeing her in a bikini was quite the bonus. Oh, and in just his shirt after the rainstorm. Jeez, she was hot. How had he barely noticed that before? Obviously, he’d registered straightaway that she was beautiful, but this week it was as if her attractiveness had exploded before him. He’d have to try and quash whatever was going on with him now right down — very inappropriate. If he was honest, it seemed inevitable that there’d be a few sleepy fantasies coming up about his friend though. He wondered if she’d have some of her own; she’d definitely been distracted seeing him in his swimming trunks and there was no question she’d been checking out his arms. He rather liked the thought of Miranda having sexy dreams about him. What a confidence boost if it were true. Maybe he'd just pretend it was anyway.

…

Sunday afternoon found Miranda waiting at a table outside a bar for Christian. She’d decided to be as efficient and conscientious as ever and discharge her wine courier duties quickly. The company would do her good too — better to have a coffee and a chat with Christian than mope around the house thinking about their mutual friend.

“Here’s your wine,” Miranda told the cheery chauffeur once they’d exchanged pleasantries and ordered their drinks.

Christian accepted the bottle with a ready grin. “¡Gracias! Very glad to be reunited with this little one.”

“I didn’t expect to like it, but it’s quite good,” Miranda agreed.

“Ja! Did Max take you to Antigua Casa de la Guardia then?”

“He did,” she confirmed. “One of many places on his list.”

Christian laughed at Max actually having made a list; clearly Miranda had rubbed off on him. “You had a good week then?”

“Yeah, it was really… lovely,” she said with a cautious smile.

“I’m glad. Nice for us both to have a holiday spot, huh?” Christian shot her a wink and laughed conspiratorially.

“It is, yeah. Unless he gets fed up of us staying at Casa Winter,” Miranda grimaced.

“No way! He won’t get sick of us.” Christian was confident of this, for both of them — why would Max not want visits from his two best friends? “So, what did you two get up to?”

“We went all over in Málaga, and we visited Ronda, Córdoba and Granada. All really beautiful historic places.”

Christian was jealous of the daytrips. “I’ll have to go back for longer! We didn't get out of the city yet. What did you get up to in Málaga?”

“We went to the beach at Malagueta and had an espeto of sardines, err, went to the Picasso museum and Muelle Uno, and up to the alcazaba and the Gibralfaro, uhh, and just generally explored,” Miranda listed, trying to recall it all.

Christian recognised those places from his own fun-filled visits. “What about in the evenings? You must have gone to El Pimpi?”

“Yeah, a couple of times.” Miranda smiled at the memory; she’d really liked that characterful place. It had such a distinctive Andalucian charm.

“Did you go dancing?” Christian continued. “He loves that — said there was a place near the cathedral he wanted to try, but apparently I wasn’t the dance partner he was after.” He put on a look of mock outrage.

“Oh, umm, yes… yeah, we did…” Miranda bit her lip and stared down at the table, sure her face was turning beetroot red. In her lap, she dug the nails of one hand into her palm as her stress levels rose.

Christian narrowed his eyes at his friend, who was clearly awkward about something now. “You’ve gone coy.”

“Have I?” Miranda hoped that had come across more innocent than she felt.

Christian was not fooled. “Yes, what’s going on?”

Miranda shrugged lightly, trying to make eye contact for faked sincerity purposes, but failing and looking at his mouth instead. “Nothing.”

“Come on, you’re hiding something. You can tell me.” Christian leaned forward, ready for the gossip he felt sure was being held back.

“Nope.”

“Please?” Christian wheedled. He hated being left out.

“There’s nothing to tell!” Miranda insisted with a burst of irritation that had her thumping her hand on the tabletop.

Christian was undeterred. “Don’t pull that on me. I’m not going to shut up until you tell me.” He shot a cheeky wink to his squirming friend.

“Oh, for god’s sake!” Miranda almost spat out. She paused, weighing up her options. “You’ll have to get me a lot more wine,” she insisted, hoping he'd forget by the time she was tipsy enough to say any more.

Christian reached across to give her a nudge on the arm. “You’re on.”

With another bottle purchased and well under way, Christian was back to the topic that was intriguing him so much. There was truth in wine, and he was going to get it.

He topped up Miranda’s glass and waited for her to take a sip. “Right, spill!” he ordered.

“Huh?” Miranda feigned surprise, thinking she might get away with it.

Christian shook his head, laughing. “No no no! I asked you about going out dancing with Max and you went all weird,” he reminded her, wagging his finger.

Miranda looked shiftily off to the side. “Did I?”

“You know you did!” her friend cried. He took a second, wondering why she was being so secretive. It must be something quite personal or embarrassing, or both; he should tread gently. “Listen, if something happened, you can talk to me about it. I’m great at advice and I’m totally trustworthy.”

Miranda finally met his eyes, searching for confirmation. “Really? You’d have to swear not to talk to anyone about it, not even Max. I’m not sure you can do that.” She crossed her arms defensively. She so badly wanted someone to talk to about what had happened, but Max’s other best friend seemed like a poor choice.

Christian clutched a palm over his heart. “I’m hurt! I promise I’ll tell nobody, not even Max.” He squeezed Miranda’s hand for a second where it rested beside her glass.

“Seriously? You have to mean it.” It would be such a relief to get it off her chest, Miranda had to admit. And who else was she even close to being comfortable enough with to talk about something like this? Carmen at one point, but this was a definite no-go topic since it was her ex-boyfriend Miranda had fallen for.

“Yes, come on. I mean it; I promise I won’t repeat this to anyone.” Christian’s tone was deadly serious now. He was ready and waiting for whatever it was that Miranda was about to reveal.

“Ok, well… we went dancing…” Miranda spoke softly, pressing her fingertips hard against her thighs with anxiety.

“And?”

“And it was nice, and we’d had some wine, and…” Miranda blinked slowly, building up to her confession. “… and we, we, uhh, we kissed.” She ran a hand through the back of her hair, trying to calm herself as the image of Max’s face coming to meet hers replayed itself for the hundredth time.

Eyes wide, Christian audibly gasped at the unexpected news. “No way! I mean, I kind of got that there was some ‘thing’ between you, but neither of you ever said anything… Anyway, then what happened?” He leaned forward eagerly to hear the rest of the tale.

Miranda grimaced. “That’s it really. It lasted no more than a few seconds because I pushed him away.” She shivered as she recalled how that rejection had been one of the hardest things she’d had to do.

Christian looked disappointed. “You did? Don’t you like him like that? Maybe I'm wrong, but I kind of thought you did?”

“That’s the problem,” Miranda snorted.

“What do you mean?”

She sat back in her chair and cast her eyes up to the ceiling, feeling ridiculous yet also a little lighter for sharing her troubles. She looked back to Christian and sighed. “I do. Oh god, I do. I really like him, for some reason. But it wasn’t the same for him. As far as he was concerned, it was just a random kiss, something that happened when we were tipsy and dancing. Just a bit of fun.”

“And that’s not what it was for you?” Christian probed, kindness in his voice.

Miranda’s lip wobbled. “No. That’s not what I want.”

Christian gave her hand another brief squeeze. “You’re totally in love with him, aren’t you?”

“Mm. Unfortunately.” She rolled her eyes at her pathetic feelings.

Christian shook his head as he tried to wrap it around all this new information. “Wow. So how did you leave it? What happens now?”

“He said he got carried away and he was so sorry, so I told him it was fine. Then we agreed to forget about it and carry on as friends,” Miranda informed him with a small, worried smile. She didn’t know quite why, but it felt like tears were only seconds away.

Christian’s eyes flicked over her. She looked to him like she was trying very hard not to cry. “You don’t look fine, Miranda.”

“I will be,” she resolved firmly, speaking down into her chest as she screwed up her courage. “I have to be — he’s my best friend. I don’t want that to change.”

Christian nodded sympathetically; he knew how important Max and Miranda were to each other and that Miranda found it hard to make friends. “For what it’s worth, I know he thinks the world of you, and he pretty obviously fancies you.”

Miranda lifted her head in surprise at this last part: pretty obviously? “Does he?”

Christian grinned. “Ja! He told me you were beautiful — that was right after you first came here. And I’ve seen the looks. Definitely not platonic. Ahh, and when we play ‘Shag, Marry, Kill’, he never, ever kills you,” he laughed, recalling that he’d teased Max about that once.

Miranda frowned at being used in one of their drunk games, though the information that Max only ever wanted to shag or marry her was sort of pleasing, in a way. “Maybe not strictly platonic for him… But he’s not in love with me,” she stated flatly.

Christian wore an expression of hopeful intrigue. “I don’t know… He says he’s emotionally intelligent, but I’ve seen him be completely oblivious about this kind of thing before. If he’s not looking for it…” He shrugged.

“You don’t really think…?” Miranda asked tentatively, a little scared of the answer.

“I can try and find out?” Christian offered, keen to help.

Miranda’s face was a picture of horror. “No! No, don’t do anything that might even slightly give me away, please. I can’t make things weird. I can’t lose him.” Her eyes flashed back and forth across Christian’s face as she tried to impress upon him how serious she was.

“I can be really subtle,” he assured her.

Miranda shook her head vehemently. “No, please leave it. Forget we talked about this. I shouldn’t have said anything.” She rested her cheek against her hand and bit her thumb as she silently cursed herself for opening up.

“If that’s what you want,” Christian agreed. He could see Miranda was becoming distressed and had no desire to make things worse.

“Yes,” she confirmed without hesitation. “Definitely.”

“Ok, but what now?”

Miranda sank back against her chair again, sighing heavily. “I stop thinking of him like that and move on.” She raised her eyebrows; it hadn’t been possible so far.

Christian gave a hollow laugh. “Good luck with that.” He raised his drink in salute to his lovesick friend as she grabbed hers to drown her sorrows some more.

…

Christian:
Hey, just been out w Miranda. Thanks fr remembering wine!

Max:
🍷 Prost!

Christian:
Sounds like you had a great week

Max:
Yeah! Loved it! Great fun 😎😎

Christian:
Enlightening?

Max:
?

Christian:
The daytrips, culture and history

Max:
Oh yeah! Cool places

Christian:
You learnt lots?

Max:
Practically a tour guide now 😂

Christian:
Learnt lots about Miranda? She said you danced 😍

Max:
What she say?

Christian:
That you didn’t tread on her this time you klutz 😏 You must seen her in new light, all that time together, just the two of you

Max:
Ok only telling you because I’m drunk and you can keep a secret… right?

Christian:
I can 🤐 Spill!

Max:
When we dancing I kissed her. So what I learned is she a great kisser 😘😂

Christian:
No way! You properly like her or something?

Max:
No just friends! But was really good. Until she pushed me away 😂

Christian:
If that what you do when you dance with friends now, remind me not to join you again

Max:
Nah, you’re too hairy so you’re safe 🤪

…

Inés entered the main office early on Monday morning to see that Miranda was at her desk and quietly busy already. “Blake, good to have you back. My office,” she instructed.

Miranda looked puzzled as her boss walked off; she had only been in for twenty minutes, so what could she have possibly done to be called in already? Her brain rapidly went into overdrive trying to think of loose-ends left untied, unclear handover instructions, and deadlines she could have missed. As she approached Inés’s office with trepidation, nothing came to mind; this was worse because she hated not being prepared for one-to-ones with her superiors.

Inés was already behind her desk when Miranda entered. She gestured at the chair opposite. “Sit. So, did you have a good time in Málaga?”

Miranda perched on the seat, feeling uncomfortable for more than one reason. “Yes, very nice. Thanks.”

“Any news?” Inés put her palms on the desk and leaned forward eagerly.

This was far too vague a question for Miranda. “What?”

Inés rolled her eyes hard. “Did you tell him?!”

“Oh. No.”

An irritated tut came from Inés. “Did he say anything? Any chance at all of you idiotas figuring it out?! Give me something here!” she cried in desperation.

“I really don’t want to talk about this,” Miranda huffed. “But you’re not going to let me go, are you?”

“No,” Inés confirmed with a sly grin.

The annoyed Miranda crossed her arms, but gave in; the sooner she got it over with, the sooner she could leave. “Fine. We kissed. But I stopped it,” she said tersely.

Inés’s mouth dropped open. “What the hell did you do that for?! Are you actually insane?” She glared at Miranda like she was seriously considering it.

“Because it didn’t mean anything to him!” Miranda protested, resenting the questioning of her mental health.

Inés frowned. “How do you know?”

“I could just tell, ok? Just a tipsy snog to him. I don’t want that.” She shrugged; it was a hopeless situation. Trying to explain it properly to Inés felt pretty hopeless too.

“Hmm, I suppose ‘well done, you' for having some standards and self-respect,” Inés told her detective grudgingly. She could see a lot more intervention was going to be required.

Miranda screwed up her face. “Thanks?”

“I take it my message did not lead him to an epiphany then?” Inés enquired, tapping her fingernails on her desk. Did Winter have to be quite so dense?

Miranda shook her head. “Led him into more confusion.”

“I’m going to have to try harder,” Inés declared confidently. She pursed her lips in determined thought.

“No, you bloody well are not!” Miranda exclaimed in a loud voice. “This is my life you’re meddling with!”

Inés waved her colleague’s concerns away with a slice of her hand, or at least she tried to. “Look, Miranda, I’m just helping here. Just a gentle nudge every so often, a prod here, a little word there…” She finished with a mischievous grin.

Miranda took a noisy breath and clenched her fists. “It’s inappropriate!” She felt herself shake with rage.

Inés seemed not to agree. “It’s not like I’m locking you in a room together until you kiss, is it?” she asked impatiently. “Although… when did he say he was coming back for a visit?”

“He hasn’t decided and when he does, I’m definitely not telling you,” Miranda shot back.

Inés cocked her head to the side and sighed as she regarded her troubled officer. “I’m only doing this because I care. Truly. This is a welfare thing. I hate seeing you sad without him. You seem distracted at work sometimes too.” She smiled her concern across the desk. “You can’t go on like this.”

“I know,” Miranda agreed weakly. Something really did have to change at some point soon, she knew that.

“Get over him or get under him!” Inés ordered.

Miranda practically exploded in shock; she couldn’t believe what she had just heard, and from her boss too. “What the—”

“The latter is preferable. And I’m helping you get there,” Inés told her with a wink.

“I seriously can’t believe you've said that! Promise me you’ll stay out of it!” Miranda leaned forward, glaring at Inés and demanding an end to the meddling and the questions.

“I don’t make promises I don’t want to keep.” Inés folded her arms, a slight smirk playing over her lips.

“Inés!” Miranda cried with anger.

“Fine, fine. I’ll lay off a bit,” Inés agreed with a grumble. “But you need to sort it out, got it?” She gave Miranda a steady look that said she’d be intervening again if things didn’t improve soon enough for her.

“Consider me over him then,” Miranda instructed briskly. “Now, can I get back to work because someone here is distracting me?” She shot her boss a steely scowl.

“Yes, very good. Go.” Inés dismissed Miranda with a flap of the hand. She watched as the younger woman left the room, hoping that those forasters would work it out quickly. It didn’t seem likely given their current progress — or lack of — though. Tontos.

Chapter Text

It was a blazing hot August afternoon when Max got the first of the texts that turned his heart ice cold.

Christian:
You heard from Miranda today?

Max:
Early this morning. Why?

Christian:
So no news this afternoon?

Max:
No. What is it?

Christian:
On a job and not enough signal here to call, so have to do this by text. Sorry… Bumped into Inés right before I left Palma. She looked really worried. Said Miranda had been shot, but not life-threatening, she thought. She was going to the hospital straight away

Max:
Shot?! What the hell!!! Is she ok? What else do you know?? Which hospital?

Christian:
☹️ That’s all she told me. Sorry. I’ll let you know if I find anything else out

Max:
Thanks. Really really worried

Max put the phone down on his desk and stared blankly at the wall opposite him with his fists clenched into a ball. He was extremely glad that the rest of his team were all out on cases because this alarming news was definitely something he needed to be alone to process. It was perhaps a little early for his new colleagues to see him so upset too, especially since he was supposed to be the one in control of things here.

Chest tightening, the distraught Max tried to calm himself with the breathing technique he had once taught Miranda to manage her claustrophobia. Sadly, it didn’t seem to be very effective when he was trying to use it for himself — not with this amount of emotional distress anyway. Tears pricked at Max’s eyes as he leaned forward over the desk and thrust his head into his hands, digging his fingertips into his scalp. He was feeling so much all at once that he wasn’t sure what was the strongest: his intense guilt at leaving Miranda partnerless and without backup, his fear at the possibility of losing her, or his overwhelming desire to get on the first plane to Palma and be at her side to take care of her. He sat there, frozen, unable to think clearly about what to do now. It was all too much to cope with.

After a couple of minutes of feeling like he might throw up, he forced himself to drink some water, just about managing to lift the glass with his shaking hands. The cool dribble down the back of his throat and the wetness on his lips began to ground him with each sip, while the act of drinking forced him to regulate his breathing. He took a few moments to try and blink away the images of Miranda first lying sprawled on the ground in a pool of her own blood and then unconscious in a hospital bed, drips and monitors hooked up to her pale, motionless body. He knew he had to stop picturing the worst and hope instead for the best, which would be that Inés was right and it was just a superficial injury. It wasn’t easy to be positive though.

Information — that was what he needed. He tried to think how Miranda would in a situation like this; she’d say no sensible decision could be taken without being in position of the facts. He had to try to be rational and come up with a plan. If it was worse than Inés thought, he’d definitely be buying the first seat back to Mallorca, no question; he would be there for Miranda in her hour of need. If it was only a smaller injury, he’d still offer to use some holiday time to go and look after her, and see what she said — probably ‘no, I can manage’, but he could be very persuasive if he wanted to be. Whatever the outcome, Max’s heart would be in Palma until he knew his friend was truly ok, wherever the rest of him was.

Feeling a bit calmer now he’d ordered his thoughts a little, he sent a couple of messages, praying for swift replies to tell him all was well. He knew he’d think of nothing else until then, so he scribbled a note in case his team came back, and then left the office an hour early, slipping out of the building without talking to anybody. He needed to be at home by himself to await the news; work had never been more unimportant than right now.

…

Max:
Miranda?? Are you ok? What happened? Please call me as soon as you can!!! Going crazy with worry here x

…

Max:
Inés, is Miranda ok? What happened?!

...

About an hour and a half after Max got home, his phone pinged to life. He’d been waiting anxiously for some sort of reassurance, pacing the living room and feeling his stomach churn as the minutes ticked by. In a surprise even to himself, he’d gone far beyond the stage of stress eating and into entirely losing his appetite, which was a shame because a piece of chocolate cake was at risk of going stale in the kitchen.

Part of him didn’t want to check the message; if it said Miranda was in trouble and he didn’t read it, it couldn’t be true, could it? He sighed — he’d failed to convince himself with that logic. Hands trembling with trepidation, he picked up his phone and rapidly read the update he'd been so desperate for.

Inés:
Just seeing her now, about to go in to her room. They made me wait while they ran tests and sorted her out. Minor, thankfully. Went off on her own without you to stop her getting into danger, or at least bring her back 🫤

Max:
RELIEVED it’s minor. Please get her to call me as soon as she can! Send her my love

Inés:
I’ll definitely pass it on. Try not to worry — she will be in a bit of pain for a while, but she should make a good quick recovery

Inés’s words did a lot to ease Max’s tension, but he knew he wouldn’t feel close to normal again until he’d heard from Miranda herself. It had been far longer than usual since he’d last had a message from her, and that fact alone was causing him some upset, let alone the fact that she’d been shot and was in pain hundreds of kilometres away from him. He hadn’t considered a terrible situation like this when he’d accepted the job in Málaga; it surely wasn't the sort of thing to appear on many people's pros and cons list when moving city. For the first time, he seriously wondered if he’d made a dreadful mistake in leaving Palma.

…

It was early evening when the longed-for relief came in a crashing wave, with the most welcome name that could ever light up Max’s phone screen.

Miranda:
Hey, I’m fine 🙂

Max:
Miranda you were literally shot

Miranda:
It just grazed my hip. Not a deep wound. They’re sending me home soon. Been here ages 😒

Max:
Why didn’t you tell me earlier then?!

Miranda:
Because I’m fine! Nothing to worry about. I’ll just have a sore hip for a couple of weeks. Inés is saying I have to stay off work ☹️

Max:
Yes, you need to recover! Look after yourself! If I was there I’d be making sure of it

Miranda:
Just need to not sleep on that side and keep changing the dressing. No big deal, honestly

Max:
Hmm. Are you actually ok though? I’d be all over the place! Are you shaken? In shock?

Miranda:
I was a bit at first, but I’m ok now, it was hours ago

Max:
I know you don’t like them, but I’m sending you a hug 🤗 🫂 Accept it how it was meant please

Miranda:
Ok. Thanks?

Max:
That’ll have to do. Now please look after yourself and stop throwing yourself into danger! I’m not there to save you!

Miranda:
What, you think I’m some hopeless little woman who needs a man to rush in and rescue her all the time?

Max:
No, it’s more like the opposite - you’re so headstrong and brave and badass you take on too much! Everyone needs someone on their side sometimes you know, and I’m on yours 🙂

Miranda:
Ok then

Max:
Promise you’ll stay out of trouble? I need my bestie

Miranda:
I’ll try, but trouble finds me

Max:
I noticed 😐 You still in the hospital?

Miranda:
Yes, about to call a taxi home

Max:
You are NOT. I’ll get Christian to come and get you

Miranda:
No, don’t bother him. A taxi is fine!

Max:
Miranda this is all I can do from here so please let me. Christian will be happy to help - he saw Inés so he knows you were shot

Miranda:
Argh! I didn’t want everyone worrying about me!

Max:
Too late! Right, I’m calling him now ok?

Miranda:
Ok. Thank you

Max:
😊 talk to you later x

…

Max:
How was she?

Christian:
In pain but being brave. Walking pretty slowly but it doesn't seem to be really bad, on the scale of being shot. She seemed very tired. I told her to take her painkillers and get some sleep

Max:
Ok thank you for looking after her

Christian:
Of course! I plan to find excuses to check in on her so I will keep you updated

Max:
You're a hero! 😁

…

Max:
Hope you’re getting some rest and you’ve eaten properly

Miranda:
Christian got me sandwiches. Just getting into bed. Very tired now!

Max:
Not surprised! Apart from the healing and the painkillers, a big scary thing happened to you today! I wish I’d been there for you 🥺

Miranda:
I’m fine, really. Don’t worry and don’t feel guilty

Max:
Easy for you to say! Get some sleep now. I’ll talk to you in the morning. Goodnight bestie x

Miranda:
Night x

…

As she drifted off into what would be a heavy sleep, Miranda reflected on her whirlwind of a day. What had been a routine investigation had turned very quickly into something far more dangerous, so quickly that she hadn't even seen the gun until after the bang and the searing, burning pain. She had been lucky that a couple of uniformed officers had been accompanying her on this case, or things might have gone much worse for her. As it turned out, her colleagues were able to deal with the situation quickly, apprehending the shooter and getting Miranda dispatched to hospital in mere minutes.

How embarrassed she'd been to be getting sent off in an ambulance when the wound didn't seem to her to be too bad — painful, certainly, but not grave. She hated being fussed over, although it had been interesting to see Inés shed the tough jefa image and let out her maternal side. She couldn't imagine taking her boss up on her kind offer of help, but it had been nice to receive it and to know that she actually did care.

Even better, though, had been Max's reaction. His huge worry and keen concern for her wellbeing were plainly obvious, from his texts to her and from what Inés and Christian had both passed on. There was no doubt that she really was one of his closest friends now. That felt pretty good. Far happier than she suspected was usual for having just been shot, Miranda descended into welcome slumber imagining another of Max’s bearhugs wrapping her up and keeping her safe.

…

Several hundred kilometres away, an exhausted Max had also decided on an early night. All the anxiety of the last few hours had left him utterly drained. He couldn't bear still to think of his best friend in pain, but that she'd had good medical care so far and had Christian and Inés looking out for her was some comfort. He'd let her have a good night’s rest, and then tomorrow he'd look up flights and broach the subject of visiting to care for her.

As he scrolled through his social media one last time, Max wondered if there was anything he could do for Miranda more immediately. He briefly thought about flowers, before realising that she'd probably prefer something more practical. A gurgle from his stomach gave him a spark of inspiration: what he always wanted when he was ill was comfort food that reminded him of his childhood. He had a few ideas of what might fit the bill for Miranda and a quick Google gave him some more.

Feeling cheered up to be doing something useful, he found an online specialist shop and began adding various items to his shopping basket. He'd missed the cut-off for next day delivery, but the morning after that Miranda would be receiving a box of British treats: frozen fish fingers and potato waffles, a large slab of Dairy Milk, a pack of Flake chocolate bars, a jar of Marmite, a block of cheddar, a multipack of salt and vinegar crisps, two tins of baked beans, a bottle of Ribena, another of HP sauce, a pack of crumpets, and, vitally, a box of Yorkshire Tea teabags.

Max’s guilt was assuaged just the tiniest bit by sending Miranda this care package. If it was anywhere near as good as the one she'd sent him, it should make her feel a little better too. He only wished he could do a lot more — a big hug, for starters.

...

Miranda:
Thank you so so much for the goodies! I'm definitely having a fish finger sandwich and a cuppa for lunch 😊

Max:
You're welcome! Absolutely sure you won't let me come and look after you though? I really could get the time off

Miranda:
No! If I see you here wanting to play nurse and get under my feet I am going to be very mad at you. Save your time off for when I'm better and visit us all here then — I don't want you to waste your holiday because I can't do much right now

Max:
Ok, message received loud and clear! I will think about dates and let you know

Miranda:
Looking forward to it 🙂

Max:
Me too x

Oh well, Max thought as he put his phone down, can’t say I didn’t try — several times. He’d briefly considered yesterday that he should just go to Palma despite what Miranda had said, but the strength of her refusals had made him stay where he was. He knew he had no right to insist she accept his presence, and he had no strong desire to go against her wishes — that would only end up making her rather grumpy with him. At least the delivery of tasty nostalgia had given her a boost. If he could do nothing else for Miranda, he could always cheer her up, eventually.

Chapter Text

By the time the sizzling August heat had led into a sultry September, Miranda was well along the road to recovery and Inés had agreed to allow her back to work. This was a relief to both of them as Inés had a case involving some tiresome British second-home owners that needed dealing with, and she couldn’t take any more messages from Miranda insisting that she was ready to return to duty. The first week had been going well, mainly because, for the most part, Miranda had listened to Max, Inés and Christian and not tried to do too much.

In Málaga, Max had just finished his working week and was unsure how to occupy himself, all alone and feeling a bit down. He had the next week booked off for Christian to visit, but the chauffeur had been offered a job with a super wealthy client that he couldn’t refuse, so the trip had been postponed. Max felt he could do with a break after the busiest peak period of summer on the Costa del Sol, so he’d decided to keep the days off anyway. Perhaps he would go on some daytrips, though it wouldn’t be nearly so fun without Miranda this time — it would be rather lonely.

In fact, everything was a lot less fun without Miranda. She’d somehow become this huge presence in his life without even being anywhere nearby, and now he was a million miles away and feeling so low. Wishing he could see her so much more often, he wondered what her next visit would be like. Probably wouldn’t involve dancing and a kiss, like the last one. That was a shame, he thought. Kissing her had felt so natural and so exciting. What would it be like to be in her company all the time again, but to also be able to freely kiss and cuddle her? He tried mentally placing himself on Miranda’s sofa with his arms round her and her head on his chest, snuggling into him. He imagined pulling her up and into a long, passionate kiss. His heart swelled; how glorious that would be.

Hang on, he suddenly thought, am I actually fantasising about being Miranda’s boyfriend?! I am, aren’t I?

Oh. Oh.

Well, this was unexpected. Wow. What did it mean? Was he just getting carried away in his loneliness or was he seriously in love with his best friend now? If it was love, when had the fall happened? And how had he only just realised?

Thinking back over the last few years, it hit him that he really should’ve noticed before now. How could he have been quite so oblivious? There were so many signs that it was astounding how little attention he’d been paying to himself: the constant texting after he moved, the many, many instances of flirting, the supposedly-friendly hugs, the flustering looks, the thoughtful gifts, the sunset picnic, the balcony chats, the sexually-charged dancing, the wonderful kiss, the way he’d felt like his world was imploding when he’d heard she’d been shot, the urge to look after her… Christ, he was supposed to be a detective! How many clues did he need!

If he was in love with Miranda, then the move to Málaga really had been a mistake. He’d thought a change would be good for him, but it seemed that he’d ‘done a Miranda’ and buried himself in work and building his life in a new city for the last six months, and not confronted his feelings. The fact that he was lonely despite making friends and getting on well with his colleagues was down to the fact that what he was feeling was actually an intense yearning for Miranda, he now realised. They’d messaged the whole time, but it just wasn’t enough; he wanted so much more than that. The unfinished business must have been why it had been so hard to leave her back in February.

He looked around the living room at the patterned cushion covers Miranda had bought him, the photos, the map, and the record lying next to the player. He got up and put their song on, picking up the framed photograph from the opera night on his way back to the sofa. The music transported him back to Cazador and that surprising night. He stared down lovingly at Miranda’s image in his hands, wondering what to do now. It was all so confusing.

Information, that was what he needed, once again. There were two things he had to be more sure of before making any big decisions: was it definitely love, and did Miranda feel the same? He thought hard: he wanted to be around her all the time, he valued her opinion above all others, he felt an urge to look after her, he wanted to kiss her, to hold her, and to do quite a lot more than that… Yes, it couldn’t be anything else. No doubt: he was in love with Miranda Blake.

But what about Miranda? Was it reciprocated? She could be so guarded sometimes, which wouldn’t make figuring this out easy. Maybe he should take a leaf out of her book once more: time for a list.

He grabbed a used envelope and a pen from the coffee table and began rapidly scrawling down everything that was jumping up and down at the front of his mind in no particular order.

Pros

1. The dance in Cazador — we nearly kissed
2. The dance at my leaving party — verdammt, Christian!
3. The dance when we actually did kiss — wow!!!
4. The presents — the bird book, my birthday / leaving gifts, the food parcel
5. Never seen her wrinkle her nose or show her dimples for anyone else
6. The sunset picnic
7. When she said we’re geese — partners for LIFE!!!
8. Flustered when she helped me with that wedding ring
9. Willingly let me hug her (eventually) — nobody else gets to
10. The arm pats she gives me— more than anyone else gets
11. Started making puns — because I like them??
12. Tells me personal stuff she hasn’t told other people??
13. All the texts, the video calls
14. Came to visit me
15. When she sees me in my tux ;)
16. Checked out my arms
17. VERY flustered seeing me in swimwear
18. Seemed upset I was leaving Palma
19. Christian and Inés’s hints that I totally didn’t get — all makes sense now!

Cons

1. Maybe just being friendly and a bit awkward and it’s not proper interest??
2. Doesn’t do relationships
3. Might be too scared to give it a go even if she does like me

So what was it to be? Friends or more than friends? Stick or twist?

Ordinarily he’d take the risk, but this was Miranda. He’d never fallen in love with his best friend before and the thought of being rejected and losing her was making him feel sick to the stomach. Should he tell her or leave things as they were? Could he not say or do anything though, knowing what he now knew? He wasn’t used to having to put this much thought into starting a relationship, and it wasn't that their current one wasn't great, he just couldn't help wondering if it could be even better.

The special song had long since finished while he’d been making his lists, so he put it on again to calm him while he thought things over. He read all the points he’d written again. Nothing on his pros list was definitive proof that his love was requited, but just the fact that it hugely outnumbered the cons one was good, wasn’t it? Maybe he could slowly broach the subject with Miranda, sound her out in a subtle way and lead up to a confession? A gentle approach might be best, given her difficulty with emotional conversations.

Though maybe if he tried to tread softly, she wouldn’t open up enough, or even understand what he was getting at, he worried. The only way to definitely find out how she felt would be to actually ask her, no pussyfooting around. Trying to do that over a video call or messaging didn’t seem right the right way to go about it though — he had to see her in person. He’d been thinking that he’d visit Palma in the next couple of months anyway, so he would try then. It might be good to have some time to think about what to say to her, get the words right. The only trouble with that was that now he’d had his revelation, he wanted her here, right now, to talk it through. The thought of being stuck in a limbo of not knowing for weeks was agonising.

He had the sudden thought that if Christian had been making some odd comments lately, he must know something, or at least strongly suspect it. If Max could find out what that was, it might confirm things for him. He grabbed his phone and immediately texted his friend.

Max:
Hey, quick question. How do you think Miranda sees me?

Christian:
Through loveheart-shaped glasses

Max:
What do you mean? Tell me more!!

Christian:
Scheisse. Wasn’t supposed to say anything…

Christian:
What the hell, you need all the help you can get

Christian:
She’s totally in love with you 😍

Max:
You’re sure

Christian:
Yes. I can’t believe it’s taken you this long

Max:
You could’ve told me!

Christian:
You were with Carmen! And then you moved to the mainland…

Max:
Ok good points. You’re 100% sure about it though?

Christian:
Yes. Like I’m now 100% sure you love her 💋💕😂

Max:
Could’ve told me that too

Christian:
I don’t like to interfere 🤷 What you going to do about it then?

Max:
Don’t know. I need to think

Christian:
Good luck with that 😉

Christian:
If the pissed off look she gave me when I interrupted you two dancing at your party is anything to go by, she REALLY didn’t want you to leave

Max:
I didn’t notice

Christian:
Like you didn’t notice the hundreds of other looks she gave you 🙄

Max:
She did? I only saw some

Christian:
Yes! And you gave almost as many back, you know

Max:
Oops. Hope Carmen didn’t notice then 😬

Christian:
Oh, she did

Max:
Scheisse

Christian:
You two are over now. Clearly it wasn’t on purpose anyway because you’re an idiot. Forget the past - sort out your future!

Max:
Always so wise

Christian:
The owl to your eagle

Max:
Think I might be a goose actually. I have some decisions to make!

That was all very encouraging, Max thought. The part about not being supposed to tell him was particularly interesting; who else could have said that but Miranda herself? It seemed like perhaps his chances were pretty good, if she was willing to take the leap with him. He’d better book his visit and get the ball rolling. October sometime?

As he looked up the work holiday calendar to check for what dates he could book off, he realised that his leg was practically vibrating with nervous energy and his fingers were tapping against his knee. He felt so tense and so excited. He wanted to act now, not sit around then get an early night.

Oh, what the hell! Why stay moping around here by himself? It was Friday night and he had the next week off with no firm plans; why not go back to Mallorca for a few days? Yes, that decision felt good. That was what he’d do.

What about getting there though? He didn’t want to fly, even if he could get tickets this late that weren’t exorbitant; he’d come here in his BMW and a lot of his time with Miranda had been spent in it, so it felt right to drive back. He could set off in the morning, get the Saturday night ferry from Valencia, and be in Palma for Sunday morning. Actually, no, that wasn’t going to work — there was no way he’d get to sleep now. He had to start his journey as soon as possible: he had to do something to get him closer to the island, closer to Miranda. He looked up different ferries. If he set off now, maybe he could get the morning one from Dénia, sleep on the crossing, and get to Palma at night. Damn, full. Ok, he could stick with the 10pm one from Valencia, set off up the autopista now anyway, then rest up somewhere during the day, before heading to the port.

A flash of inspiration hit him: Rico lived in Valencia these days, so maybe he could crash at his place and get to catch up with his old friend for a while into the bargain. It was only about six hours’ drive to Valencia, so with time for packing and a few stops to refuel himself and the car, and maybe a backseat power nap, he’d be there early morning and have the whole day to rest and even see a bit of the city. He lifted his phone again and scrolled through his contacts until he got to the right one.

“Max! Dígame, amigo.” The happiness at hearing from his friend was abundant in the pathologist’s voice.

“Rico! How are you, guapo?” Max asked, just as pleased.

“Doing well, my friend. You should come to Valencia for a visit, now you’re on the mainland.” The offer sounded genuine.

Talk about the perfect set up, Max thought. “Ha! I’m glad you said that… Last minute, I know, but I’m getting the night ferry to Palma tomorrow and I was wondering if you were free during the day?” He winced, aware that it was a fairly cheeky request.

“Oh? You’re in luck. My day off,” Rico shared, a little surprised by the immediacy.

“Fantastic!” Max cried. “I’m setting off now, so I’ll be there early morning. You don’t mind if I crash for a few hours on your sofa and then we could go out for something to eat, maybe some beers? See the city?” He hoped inviting himself over for a snooze wasn’t too impertinent and that his easy charm would let him get away with it, as so often happened.

Thankfully, Rico was happy to oblige. “Sure. You don’t want to drive up in the morning though?”

Max laughed. “Can’t. The idea is in my mind so I have to do it right now!”

“Oh well, see you in the morning then. I’ll text you the front door code.” Rico knew better than to argue with Max’s impulses.

“You’re the best!” Max grinned into his phone.

“That’s me," Rico chuckled. "Happy driving!”

“Thanks! See you tomorrow — I'll treat you to a paella and couple of beers,” Max finished cheerily.

Arrangements made and then ferry booked, Max sprang up and trotted to his bedroom, grabbing a hold-all from the top of the wardrobe. He stuffed a load of clothes and his phone charger inside the bag, then moved to the bathroom and chucked all the toiletries he considered essential inside. An idea popped into his head and he went back into the bedroom quickly for a dry cleaning bag and a pair of shoes. In the hallway, he added his flip flops in case of beach trips and a light jacket for if it got a bit chilly on the ferry. He patted his pockets: wallet, phone, keys. Perfect. He took one more look around the living room and kitchen to check he hadn’t missed anything. What the hell, he thought, as long as he had his phone and wallet, he could get anything else in Valencia or Palma.

As he got into the lift to go down to the building's car park, the thought crossed his mind again that he might very well be about to irreparably damage things with his best friend, but he knew it was all or nothing now, because he had to know one way or the other. He didn’t want to lose Miranda’s friendship if it turned out that he’d got it all wrong — he hoped that the relationship could be salvaged if that were the case, but he realised that might not be possible straightaway, not with Miranda’s usual retreat from emotions, and reluctance to have heavy personal conversations. Ah well, he’d just have to deal with that if it came to it. There was no way he’d be turning back now; Max was a man on a mission.

Chapter Text

Miranda had been working late this Friday, trying to show Inés that she was up to being back by wrapping up her case within the week. By the time she finished, it was dark and she was rather tired; she’d definitely have a quiet couple of days to herself to recuperate and get back to listening to everyone’s insistences that she take it easy. Maybe some virtual hanging out with Max to start the weekend in a good mood would be what she needed, after a quick trip to the supermarket and some supper.

Miranda 22:32:
Hey 🙂

When no reply came within ten minutes, Miranda settled in with a book, waiting slightly impatiently for her friend to respond. She knew she probably needed to go to bed, but now she’d got it in her head that she wanted to talk to Max first, she couldn’t bring herself to get up off the sofa. It was unusual for him to leave replying for more than about twenty minutes; maybe he’d just missed her first message?

Miranda 23:07
I should sleep, but I don’t want to just yet. Quick word game?

Miranda 23:15
You there?

Miranda 23:33
Sorry, you’re probably out with your new friends. You don’t need me bothering you. Going to bed now. Talk tomorrow, if you want to

It wasn’t like Max not to reply, not for this long. Of course, it was Friday night and he probably was just out with new friends… but then he’d always told her each time previously, so she knew he wouldn’t be free for proper chats or games. Was he keeping it from her? Why would he suddenly do that?

A horrible thought sprung to mind: could he be out on a date? Maybe that was something he wouldn’t want to share. Or maybe he was just fed up with her constant communication, and now he was ghosting her. Maybe she’d been too much and this was the start of the inevitable drifting away, the decline into solitude. Both of these possibilities filled her with a cold dread; they both meant losing Max in some way.

Something even worse nagged at her now: what if he wasn’t replying because he simply couldn’t? Could something bad have happened to him? A wave of nausea rose up as she ran through all the terrible things that might have befallen him. She realised now that this must be similar to how he had felt when she’d been shot, stuck hundreds of kilometres away, not knowing anything. How awful for him, if that were so.

What if he’d been in an accident? Injured at work? Seriously ill? Would he have anyone there to look after him? How would she find out what had happened? Maybe she’d try one more text to check on him, then see how things were in the morning. She didn’t want to make a big fuss if he really was just on a night out and not checking his phone, or had forgotten to charge it, which would hardly be completely out of character.

Miranda 23:47
Max, are you ok?

Miranda waited a little while in case a message came and Max wanted to talk, but her eyes were so heavy and dry that she eventually had to admit that it was time to turn in. She took her phone to the bathroom with her and laid it on the edge of the sink while she brushed her teeth and cleaned her face. A couple of times she thought she saw a notification flash up out of the corner of her eye, but it turned out to be merely an annoying trick of the light drawing her attention to the screen.

Upstairs, she changed into her pyjamas and climbed into bed, sinking into the firm mattress and soft bedding, feeling a little comforted by her cosy sanctuary. She turned the sound on for message notifications and calls, just in case Max needed her during the night, then put her phone on the bedside table.

Shutting her eyes, she realised her body was far too tense to sleep yet. She tried Max’s breathing technique, but it could only calm her a little. Her anxiety was blocking her sleep — her mind kept on catastrophising, going over all the scenarios that might be keeping Max from replying: he’d been shot, he’d been stabbed, he’d been run over, he’d been taken hostage, he’d had a bad fall, he’d caught some terrible illness, he’d gone off her, he preferred his new friends, he’d lost his phone and all his contact details and she’d have to wait for him to get a new one to be put out of her misery… The list went on and on.

If one of the very worst cases were true and he either wouldn’t make it or simply didn’t want anything to do with her anymore, where the hell would that leave her? Max was so important — how could she just go on without him? There wasn’t a waking hour that went by without at least one thought relating to him, and of the dreams she remembered, at least half featured him. What would a Max-free life be like? She felt a gnawing emptiness just thinking about it. It would be like losing a part of herself. Nobody could ever hope to fill the chasm he’d leave behind. Who would she tell all about her day, her opinions, her ideas? Who would make her laugh when she was feeling down or worried? Who would make her heart leap with just a simple text to say good morning? Who would make her smile with every daft selfie? Having to live without him was more than she could bear even considering.

Unable to sleep still, Miranda swiped a hand out for her phone. She opened the photo app and scrolled through the happy pictures of her trip to Málaga. She had to distract herself from intrusive thoughts, and looking at her friend joyful in her company seemed a good way to redirect her anxious mind. Eventually, her eyes could stay open no longer, and she drifted off thinking about their day in Ronda and giving herself some calming order by planning their next trips together. She had to believe they would happen if she were ever to get some rest.

Chapter Text

A couple of hours into his impulsive nocturnal journey, Max spotted a very welcome sign. By this point, his eyes were a little sore and his legs were getting stiff, so he turned off the autopista and pulled into the advertised service station. He badly needed to get some water, and probably a coffee too, and his BMW also needed a drink. More urgently than that, he needed to relieve himself very soon.

When he’d dealt with both bladder and BMW, he went into the almost-deserted café and got what he needed — not the best quality coffee he’d ever have, but it would do the job. He sat at a slightly sticky plastic table and got out his phone while he waited for his drink to cool for a minute.

Oh wow, that’s quite a lot of messages from Miranda, he thought as he scrolled through the notifications. They must have started when he’d been wrestling with what to do, talking to Rico, and packing up to leave. The tone of increasing worry and decreasing self-esteem did not escape him and he felt guilty for not spotting the texts before he’d set off; he’d better put her mind at ease right now, just in case she was still awake and on edge.

Max 01:38
Sorry! I was driving so just saw your messages 😬

Max: 01:40
Had an excellent thought tonight. Expect a delivery to your door on Sunday morning, Señora Blake. And don’t bother trying to get me to tell you what it is. For once you are just going to have to deal with not knowing something because I want you to have a surprise! 😉🎁 xx

Max sat for a while longer, sipping his coffee and enjoying the chance to stretch out his long legs as he stared out of the window into the pitch black night, punctuated only by the headlights of cars and lorries and the bright strip lights of the petrol station forecourt. There was hardly anyone else here at this hour on a Saturday in these quiet Almería services — mostly people who had to be there for their work. He must be mad, doing this voluntarily. He had to though; he was driving all night just to get back home to Miranda.

He wondered how she’d receive his surprise arrival on her doorstep. She’d initially be glad he was there, that was almost guaranteed, he felt, but would that change when she knew the reason? How exactly he’d reveal what that was he hadn’t decided yet — come straight out with it, or have a friendly chat and see where it took him? Both had their merits.

He’d at least had some inspiration on what to wear when he turned up, but he wasn’t completely set on it — it might be a little too cheesy. He wasn’t sure either if he should bring some sort of gift; he might do that for a first date, but was it right for a first declaration of romantic interest? Clearly, he had a lot of thinking to do in the hours ahead.

Ah well, he reflected, he’d either figure it all out on the journey or he’d make up what he couldn’t decide on when he got there. Going with the flow and improvising was his thing — mix that with some Miranda-style careful and thorough planning and thinking about the details, and he couldn’t fail. Could he?

Perhaps he should have some kind of backup scenario for if it did all go wrong. Obviously, top of the priorities would be to do whatever he could to ensure the friendship endured and things wouldn’t be too awkward. After that, he supposed he would go to Christian’s; he’d probably do that anyway since he’d need somewhere to stay and imposing himself on Miranda might be asking too much, with no notice and an unexpected love confession thrown in.

He hadn’t booked a return ferry yet, given that so much of his visit and its success was out of his hands. If Miranda said she wanted to be with him too, he’d stay as long as he could; if not, he’d visit friends and ex-colleagues and stay as long as he wasn’t an inconvenience. He’d definitely drop in on Inés at some point — he felt he might owe her a thank you for the hints that had added to his list in favour of there being a ‘thing’ between him and Miranda. Carmen was only a maybe, since it felt a bit weird going to see his ex-girlfriend when his whole reason for being back on the island was to try and get a new one, especially given who that was.

Whatever happened on Sunday morning and whatever the emotional consequences, Max would do his best to make the most of his time in Palma after his months of absence. There was always something going on, some new place to try out, or an old favourite to revisit. He’d never tire of the city he still saw as a home.

Chapter Text

Miranda woke a little earlier than she’d like for a Saturday morning, especially one that had started with such stress and sleeplessness. Must have been those noisy gulls disturbing her again, standing on the edge of her balcony to squawk the new day in at the top of their lungs. Still, at least she would get plenty done with her Saturday now she was getting an early start.

The first thing she did was to check her phone in case she’d missed anything in the few hours since she’d finally drifted off. Surprisingly, she had; it was most unlike her, but when she’d eventually got to sleep it must have been deep enough that she’d heard nothing of the notifications beeping beside her.

She read Max’s replies with slightly mixed emotions; on the one hand she did hate being kept in the dark, but on the other she was intensely relieved that he was safe and well, and still her friend, and — to cap it all off — he was sending her some sort of present. All his gifts to her so far had been perfect, so it wouldn’t be unreasonable to have high hopes for this one. She had no idea what it could be though. Surely not more British comfort food? It hadn’t been long since the last boxful; she hadn’t got through the comforting fishfingers yet and she still had plenty of tea. Something from Málaga then? Or one of the other places they’d visited? Had she mentioned liking something when she’d visited and he’d remembered? She couldn’t recall anything in particular. This would certainly keep her guessing for the next day or so.

Smiling at all being right in her world — apart from the suspense — Miranda sent her own reply.

Miranda 07:37
Very mysterious! Talk this evening? Couple of games? You’re due a thrashing. Unless you’re out with your new mates?

When it was clear that no further messages were forthcoming from Max just yet, Miranda assumed he was either asleep or still up to whatever it was that had had him driving so late at night. She got up, showered, dressed, and made herself tea and toast, which she consumed at her dining table while she decided what to do with the day.

As soon as her breakfast had gone down a bit, she’d start things off with a good run along the waterfront promenade that ran along past her house. Nothing else sprang to mind though, other than the necessary weekly cleaning. Maybe something would occur to her during the run — they usually helped clear her head and organise her thoughts.

…

In the end, Miranda’s jog along the seafront turned out to be largely taken up with thoughts other than how to spend her weekend. She just couldn’t help looking out over the Bay of Palma in the direction of Málaga and wondering what Max was doing. She missed him so much it hurt sometimes — a heavy ache in her chest that she couldn’t shift. She hoped he’d visit soon, once Christian’s postponed trip was out of the way.

Even after all these months without him, there had still been no final decision from Germany on replacing Max, and Miranda was honestly quite glad about it. She’d rather have extra work on her plate than have to try and get used to some imposter. It had taken her long enough to get used to Max, and he was the kind of person who got on with just about everyone — what if they sent someone even harder to work with than her? She shivered at the thought of going back to the old days of difficult partnerships that were doomed to fail. Horrible. Far better to work alone — at least she only had her own inadequacies and quirks to contend with then.

The run had taken her far enough by now that she could make out the police station in the distance. Seeing the rough spot where her office was, Inés’s voice barked into her brain. Didn’t I tell you to get a life, Blake? Stop thinking about work on your day off! Maybe she should listen for a change; she had absolutely no clue what might happen with a new partner, and obsessing over it was doing her no good. Besides, she already had one German to obsess about, and that was quite enough. Best not add the entire country’s police force to that.

Miranda turned around for the return leg home. Time now to finally figure out what to do with the rest of the day to occupy her busy brain and allow her body to take it easier. She did need to get some food in, so maybe a trip to the market in the city centre instead of the usual supermarket? Max had shown her all the stalls he recommended a while back, though she knew she was unlikely to get his charm discount without him there. Perhaps she could also go to a bookshop, then treat herself to a coffee and a quiet read in a plaça somewhere. After that, a gentle walk home to do some chores, and then cook whatever she’d got at the market — maybe Max could give her some ideas. Maybe he’d agree to her suggestion to play some games later too.

Yes, that all sounded good; nothing too taxing and some Max time to finish the day off well. Lovely. And no work, for once. Unless she got really bored of relaxing…

Chapter Text

Max’s car swept through the dusty early morning streets of Valencia. He was glad that it being a Saturday meant there was less traffic to contend with than there would have been on a weekday, given how tired he was by this point. Skirting the historic centre, he crossed one of the bridges over the long park that laid out in the former bed of the diverted Túria river. After a minute or so, he found the leafy street he was looking for and parked up as close as he could to the grand modernisme building where Rico lived.

Max leant back in his seat and closed his dry eyes for a few seconds. Despite the weariness, he had no regrets about his sudden journey. Waking up this morning to have got no closer to Miranda would’ve felt like a waste of his time, and the disruption to his sleeping pattern didn’t matter so much since the overnight ferry ride would mess it up anyway.

He opened his eyes again and picked up his phone to check the keypad code Rico had sent him. He saw there was a message from Miranda. How good that made him feel. Sending it must have been one of the first things she’d done that day. Her tone seemed upbeat enough, though there was that hint of low self-value at the end with the mention of new friends — as if she could ever be replaced. Time to send a quick reassuring reply before heading into Rico’s place for some rest.

Max 08:22
Going somewhere by myself tonight - tell you about it tomorrow 😁 Not sure I’ll have much signal, but if I do I will be very happy to chat and accept defeat at your hands xxx

Max put his phone away and got out of the car, bringing the essential parts of his luggage with him. He walked the short distance to Rico’s building and entered without issue, taking the lift up to his friend’s apartment. He rang the buzzer and waited. About thirty seconds later, the cheery face of Rico appeared at the door and the two shared a manly hug.

“Good to see you, Max! Come in, come in!” Rico cried.

“Good to see you too, amigo!” Max replied warmly as he followed his friend inside.

In the comfortable living room, Rico gestured to the sofa and Max gladly sat, happy to have the chance to relax and stretch his legs out again properly. Rico got them both a coffee and a croissant from the kitchen, then took up position in an armchair across from Max.

”So, you off to visit Christian then? Few days on the beer and ensaïmadas together?”

Max looked momentarily confused. “Huh? Oh. No, no. Not Christian…” His eyes flicked shiftily to the side; he hadn’t told anyone about his plan yet and he was uncharacteristically nervous. A shy smile spread across his face as he thought about the reason for his long journey.

“What's that weird look on your face? Kind of dopey…” Rico commented with amusement. He sat forward suddenly. “Oh, it’s a woman!”

Max held his hand up. “You got me. It’s a fair cop.”

“Do I know her?” Rico asked with keen interest.

There was a pause while Max calculated how much he should say, lest his mission fail. He decided he was too tired to come up with convincing lies. “Umm, yes, you know her.”

Rico’s brow furrowed. “You’re not… I thought it was definitely over with Carmen, for good?”

“It is.” Oh well, Max thought, if he figures it all out, never mind; it might be churlish not to open up, when Rico had opened up his home to him.

“Well, it’s not Inés, that’s for sure,” Rico remarked with a wicked grin, before taking a slurp of his coffee.

Max laughed loudly. “Absolutely, definitely not. No way. Never.” He sliced his hand in the air emphatically.

Rico gave a light shrug. “I don’t know. Might be fun.” His eyebrows waggled suggestively.

“That’s enough of that talk, thanks,” Max instructed, shivering at the thought. “She’s so overbearing and demanding and strict at times.”

“Maybe I like a bit of that.” Rico winked, then threw his head back in laughter.

Max’s face scrunched up in displeasure at the unwanted images that were forming in his mind. He stuck his hand out. “Stop right there, Casanova!”

“You’re right,” Rico agreed. “We’re talking about your love life, Romeo.”

Max snorted. “Well, I hope it goes better than a Shakespearean tragedy when I tell her how I feel.”

“Sure it will, with your charm. And you’ve driven through the night for this lucky lady, so you must really want this. She doesn’t know you’re coming?” Rico queried.

“No,” Max confirmed with a shake of his head. “I told her she was getting a surprise and that’s it. It’ll be driving her crazy not knowing what it is. I just hope I’m not a disappointment, and she feels the same… She’s hard to read at times.” He swilled a mouthful of coffee round his mouth thoughtfully.

The penny dropped for Rico. “Got it: it’s Miranda! I knew there was something going on there!” he crowed triumphantly.

“You knew more than me then. I’m still not completely sure, to be honest… This could go really badly, if you and Christian are wrong. And Inés, I think.”

Rico cocked his head at his worried friend. “You’re an idiot, you know that? The way she looked at you sometimes…” He shook his head and whistled through his teeth.

“I always thought it was just a bit of friendly flirting,” Max admitted.

“For you, maybe,” Rico scoffed. “Have you ever seen her flirt with anyone else?”

“Umm… Well, that one time with you on the King case.” That incident had firmly lodged itself in Max’s memory and now he knew why: jealousy.

Rico rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because she wanted something from me. Then it was back to Ice Queen Miranda. It was always you.”

“So, you genuinely think I’m in with a chance?” Max asked brightly. Perhaps it was the short amount of time he’d had to get his head around everything that meant he was still occasionally wavering, despite his favourable list.

“Yeah!” Rico assured him. “Don’t mess it up — she’s a good one!”

“I’ll try my best…” Max replied with a sigh.

Rico nodded. “Get some sleep — you look too much like you drove through the night, and then you’ll be trying to sleep on the ferry. We can go out for paella when you wake up, and I’ll show you the sights, grab an horchata or a beer or something before you have to drive to the port.”

“You’re right, definitely beauty sleep time,” Max agreed, pushing himself to his feet and accidentally scattering flakes of buttery pastry to the floor.

“Take the spare room — through there on the left,” Rico said with a gesture in the right direction. “Rest up for your big day.”

…

Max woke up a few hours later, luckily still in time for lunch. He yawned and stretched himself to full consciousness, then padded through to the living room, where Rico was quietly waiting, playing a game with his headphones on so as not to disturb his guest.

Rico paused his game, looked up, and pulled the headphones down around his neck. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah, thanks. Mind if I take a shower?” Max asked hopefully as he leaned against the doorframe.

“I’d mind more if you didn’t,” Rico retorted. “You can’t go to Miranda all sweaty from two days’ travelling. I already put a towel out for you in the bathroom.”

Max grinned broadly. “Did I mention that you’re the best?”

“You did,” Rico laughed. “Hungry for paella after that?”

Max patted his stomach, which was now growling vociferously, the croissant a distant memory. “I could eat a whole one myself.”

“Steady on! Have your shower and then I’ll drive us; you’ve done enough of that today.”

Max stepped forward and slapped a grateful hand on Rico’s shoulder, then headed towards the bathroom.

…

“I’ll take us through El Cabanyal on the way,” Rico announced as he eased the car into the traffic along the main road that skirted the old Túria river bed. “Have you heard of it?”

Max searched his memory for a second. “That does sound familiar. Is it the place they were fighting to save a few years ago? I think I read about it.”

“That’s right. Absolute scandal. I will never trust the PP. They wanted to extend the main road to the sea, but that meant knocking down most of El Cabanyal. It was a protected heritage area, but they didn’t give a shit — it was a traditional fishing area, so quite poor.”

“Not people the PP would ever genuinely care about,” Max interjected.

“Exactly,” Rico continued. “The city council bought up hundreds of homes through shell companies and then let the whole area go to ruin — drug dealers moved in, services moved out. More than fifteen hundred homes marked for demolition. Even managed to get the protective laws tweaked to allow it. They got the press to wage war on the local group that was fighting to save the area — called them violent.”

“And this went on for a while?” Max asked with a tone of distaste.

“Years and years. Thankfully the courts eventually stopped it and the PP got voted out, but not before they’d torn down more than a hundred homes. You’ll see some of the gaps.”

Max shook his head sadly. “Jesus, how did they get away with it?”

“The regional government at the time was PP too. Only cared about the economics — never mind destroying a whole community and its cultural heritage; it was progress and the poor could all just go and live somewhere else. Anyway, that’s enough ranting. We’re just coming up to the edge of the district now.”

Rico drove up and down some of El Cabanyal’s grid of narrow streets, showing Max the long rows of quaint, decoratively-tiled houses, some with tall miradors affording the fishing families views to the sea stretching out along the east of the neighbourhood. Even with the destruction wreaked on it, the area had retained its charm and seemed to be on the up now. Max found he was enjoying the excursion. He really appreciated the colourful mix of geometric and nature designs that the low terraces of houses were covered in; it seemed unbelievable that the local politicians had wanted to tear it all down, and that they had nearly succeeded.

As he drove them alongside the wide miles-long, sands of the Malva-rosa beach towards the busy port, Rico looked sidewards to Max, checking his guest was still having a good time.

“You’ve got that dopey look on your face again,” Rico remarked.

Max tensed a little. “Have I?”

“Yeah, you’re thinking about Miranda aren’t you?” Rico asked, grinning widely.

“Uhh, yep,” Max admitted, feeling sheepish at how consumed he was by his best friend and at how obvious he seemed to be about it. “I was thinking that she’d like to see this place. She loved our daytrips in Andalucía; I think she’d like Valencia.”

Rico let out a chuckle. “Ahh, and you want to take her here for a romantic weekend away!”

Max said nothing; he was embarrassed that he was getting ahead of himself here, given that Miranda didn’t even know how he felt yet. It would be nice to book them both into a fancy hotel here though, and have a whole weekend of just them, getting to know each other so much better…

Rico snuck another glance at his lovestruck friend. “Maximus Decimus Winterus, do you have dimples?” he asked in a tone of mock shock.

“I-”

Rico slipped a hand off the steering wheel to give Max a slap on the shoulder. “You’ve really got it bad, my friend.”

Max was quiet for a moment. “I love her,” he said truthfully. It was the first time he’d said it out loud; now it was real, unshakable fact, out there in the world.

“Wow! Best of luck for tomorrow then, eh?” No joking now; Rico could see this was serious by the sincerity on his friend’s face.

Max gave a tight-lipped smile, knowing he’d better think some more about how the next day would go if he wanted it to end with Miranda agreeing to be with him. They drove in silence for a few minutes as Rico navigated the busy road around the port and over the new course of the Túria and on southwards to the countryside that contained their destination.

“So, is there no good paella in the city?” Max asked once they had left Valencia behind them.

“There is, but I know you like authentic, so I’m taking us to the Albufera, where it all started,” Rico revealed proudly. “A proper foodie pilgrimage!”

“Perfect!” Max agreed. This was turning out to be a very good rest stop indeed — much better than the cheap hotel and a takeaway pizza in the park that had been a hastily-thought out backup plan.

The two friends cruised along the sun-baked road south, running parallel to the Mediterranean. On the inland side was field after field of rice paddies, while the other side was broken up by small coastal settlements dotted amongst the agricultural land. From all the activity Max could spot, it was clear that the rice harvest was now in progress here.

After about ten minutes, Max caught sight of the wide green expanse of the Albufera lake, a haven for wildlife surrounded by the rice fields, and the citrus orchards beyond them. Catching sight of a tourist boat taking passengers out onto the water, Max reflected that if things did go as hoped with Miranda, perhaps Valencia and its environs could be a good place to spend one of their birthdays. He hadn’t really thought too far into the future, but if they were still living apart by then, perhaps she could get the ferry over while he drove up from Málaga, meeting in the middle time-wise. This happy daydream occupied Max until Rico swung the car down an unimposing lane near the end of the village of El Palmar, at the far side of the lake.

“Here we are,” Rico announced cheerfully. “Let’s get you fed — I can hear your stomach complaining.”

Max clamped a hand to his noisy abdomen. “My stomach and I are in your hands. We would both like to try all the best Valencian specialities please.”

“You’re on!” Rico agreed as he climbed out of the car.

It being at the later end of the lunch service, many of the diners had left already and there was no problem getting a table at the edge of the terrace, looking out over a small canal and across the rice fields to the hazy mountains in the distance. Rico ordered them two vegetable starters to share: esgarraet, a salad of roasted red peppers, black olives, and salt cod, and titaina, a combination of tuna belly, peppers, tomatoes and pine nuts that originated in El Cabanyal. To follow, they shared a traditional paella valenciana, the dark golden rice dotted with chicken, rabbit, beans, and snails.

After this savoury feast, Rico was sensible and chose not to have a dessert. Max, however, was too excited not to try a sorbet made from the juice of local mandarins, telling himself that it was just a really cold drink so he’d have room for it. This was a decision he regretted for most of the next hour; it was only as Rico parked up at his apartment building that Max felt able to move normally again.

…

After an hour or so resting in Rico’s home, chatting while they played a video game, Max and his host wandered into the historic core of the city. Rico showed Max the mediaeval Serrano towers, the vibrant El Carmé district, the cathedral and the wide and elegant plaças either side of it, the circular Plaça Redona and its stalls selling lace, the llotja de la seda, based on Palma’s own gothic mercantile hall, and the exterior of the impressive Mercat Central.

In the bustling Plaça de l’Ajuntament, a couple of the florists that ringed the centre of the grand space still had their wares on display. As Max stopped to admire the bright colours outside one kiosk, he had an idea.

“A single red rose? Señor Romantic, eh?” Rico laughed as Max came towards him with his spontaneous purchase. “I’m really more of a whole bouquet kind of a guy though.”

“Very funny,” Max replied. “Miranda would think a whole bunch was a waste of money. I thought if I turn up holding one red rose though, she’d get why I was there. Kind of speed things up and make it more obvious, you know?”

“Ah, you’re going for getting it all out there up front,” Rico remarked. He approved of this plan; how many times had he just directly asked Miranda out himself? Sure, he’d been rebuffed every time, but Max was actually in with a chance here, so good on him.

Max smiled; things were starting to come together in his mind. “Yeah, I think grand gesture it is!”

…

Too full from their late lunch still, Max and Rico skipped dinner in favour of some leisurely drinking as they passed the last few hours before Max needed to leave. First they went to a traditional horchatería and tried the sweetened tiger nut milk that was typical of the area. After a little more wandering round the historic centre, they settled at a table outside a bar Rico liked, drinking beer in the warm evening sun and grazing on olives.

Eventually, it was time for Max to head to the port. With all his things packed back into his car, he bade Rico a fond farewell and promised to let him know how things went with Miranda. As he gave the pathologist a final wave and drove off to complete his mission, Max felt a sense of being on the brink — he hoped it was of something wonderful to come. The new day would tell soon enough.

Chapter Text

Miranda’s Saturday was a lot quieter and lonelier than Max’s. The shadow of her compañero seemed to be following her around Palma, even though she knew that in reality he was far away, over on the mainland. In the bustling historic food market, she could’ve sworn for a second that she’d seen him sitting at the bar where they had once waited to meet an informant. A group of tourists cut across her path as she approached and when her view had cleared again, there was no sign of the confusing image. Miranda frustratedly shook herself back into being her usual sensible self and went about her shopping, settling on a piece of sea bass and some fresh vegetables.

Next, she went to a nearby bookshop for a quick browse. In the English language section, there was a stack of books set apart from the others that if she didn’t know better, she’d have sworn had been chosen and left there by Max — Agatha Christie, Ernest Hemingway, a couple of cookbooks… So much for trying not to think about him quite so much, she mused. She ignored the confounding pile and quickly selected a crime novel that looked sufficiently intelligently-written, then took her purchase out into the afternoon sunshine.

A few streets away, she took a place at a small, shaded table outside a café. She’d been there with Max once or twice before and remembered that they had no idea how to make a good cup of tea, but that the coffee was excellent. She ordered a milky cupful and began her new book, finding it engaging and well-researched from the outset. Something about the main character’s easy manner and charm reminded her very much of Max, not to mention his casual relationship with rules.

So, not an entirely effective distraction technique then, Miranda realised. She briefly considered telling Max about all these coincidences, but dismissed the notion — she should probably try not to text him so often, and it sounded like he had a busy weekend on his hands anyway. More than that, she worried that she’d come across as desperate and weird if she revealed just how much she inadvertently thought of him.

Mindful of the need to get her fish into the refrigerator, Miranda paid for her coffee and set off home. The walk took her past the opera house, which immediately reminded her of the murder case that had once taken her and Max there. How revealing it had been to hear his admiring opinion and detailed knowledge of opera, and then to listen to him sing up on the stage. She’d secretly been very impressed and rather proud to be partnered with him then.

As she strode along one of the wide streets nearer the seafront a short while later, a dark blue BMW drove past and then stopped a little way ahead. Her body reacted before her mind could apply reason, her lips curling up into a smile and a warmth spreading through her chest. This was ridiculous; of course it wasn’t Max coming to pick her up! She still had to study the number plate to get herself to fully accept it though. She was very glad Inés had no way of knowing how Max-obsessed her mind seemed to be.

Rounding the last corner before her home, Miranda stopped dead in her tracks. There he was, walking towards her! Max had come for a surprise visit! Wait, no — she was being an idiot again. Max was busy somewhere else far away, and, sure, this man was tall and dark-haired, and he was dressed in slightly-crumpled linen, but he was also walking a small dog. Why would Max be here in Palma, walking a dog he didn’t own? The nearer the stranger got, the more she could see that he only resembled Max from a distance. She must be going crazy. How the hell was she going to turn her irritating thoughts off?! Seeing Max everywhere was not helpful. She strode on, determined to think of something else for the last minutes of her walk.

Home again after her couple of hours in the city centre, Miranda managed to occupy herself for a good chunk of the afternoon with cleaning and tidying. When her place was how she liked it, she lay down on her bed, intending to try getting through another chapter of her new book without comparing the lead to Max, but the lack of sleep soon got to her. Only a page in, her eyelids shut and she dropped the book on her arm.

When Miranda woke, disoriented and dry-mouthed, it was evening already. She took a while to shed herself of the grogginess she felt, then went downstairs. After a long drink of water, she set about making her dinner. She toyed with the idea of asking Max for meal inspiration for the ingredients she’d got, but she was feeling a little embarrassed about her neediness and overreaction to his silence the previous evening. Best leave it a little longer, she decided.

Once she’d cooked and eaten her sea bass, Miranda spent some time catching up on the news and playing a few daily quizzes that she liked to occupy her agile brain with. Eventually though, the urge to contact Max could be held at bay no longer. She’d left it most of the day, so surely that wasn’t too clingy? No harm in just checking now whether he was free to talk, she decided.

Miranda:
Hey, do you have time to chat this evening? Or are you busy with your mysterious thing you’re up to? If you even have enough signal to get this… 😬

Max:
Oh sorry! Can’t right now 😞 We will DEFINITELY talk tomorrow though - soon as your surprise arrives I am all yours 😄 Promise x

Oh well, Miranda thought, back to my book and puzzling about what on earth Max is doing that he’s being so vague about, and what he’s sending that’s going to turn up on the doorstep tomorrow. That would keep her pondering until she had the solution to both mysteries. If only he’d given her some good clues to go on. She hoped the suspense would be over early because a whole morning of waiting and wondering would be pure torture.

Chapter Text

Max sat in his car queuing at the ferry port, waiting to drive aboard and start the last leg of his journey for love. He’d had the radio on for a while, but the chattering adverts between songs had started to irritate him, so now he sat quietly in the gathering darkness, thinking ahead to tomorrow. He felt really bad about telling Miranda he couldn’t chat tonight, but she’d get too suspicious about what he was up to and he wasn’t sure how convincingly he’d be able to lie to her; the surprise would be worth another evening’s silence in the end, he hoped.

As he ran over all the possibilities for the morning again, Max had a sudden crisis of confidence. What Christian and Rico had said had been really encouraging, but he just needed a little bit more to get him into a place of security about his decision and the soul-baring revelation to come. Perhaps one last opinion from someone else who knew them both would do the trick. His old boss was very perceptive, and even if Miranda hadn’t said much, she’d surely have some useful insight; hadn’t she been dropping hints to him already?

Max:
Inés, can I ask you a weird question?

Inés:
That’s most of your questions. Go on

Max:
What does Miranda think about me?

Inés:
Why are you asking me?

Max:
Please, just tell me whatever you know. How does she see me?

Inés:
You’re her best friend

Max:
Ok, but apart from that…? Is there more?

Inés:
DIOS MÍO FINALLY

Max:
???

Inés:
She loves you, you love her 😍😍

Max:
You’re 100% sure?

Inés:
Yes! Do something about it, idiot! TELL HER! GO TO HER!

Max:
I’m on it! Might drop in on you while I’m there 😁 But don’t tell Miranda please - surprise 😉

Inés:
👍🤞😘

The lights of the cars in front and a glimpse of movement at the head of the queue told Max it was time to board now. He put his phone down on the passenger seat, feeling the strength of his friends on his side for the hours ahead. He might not have fully worked out what he was going to say and do when he got to Palma, but he was definitely ready to make his way there now. He’d already driven all night, and now he was about to sail all night too, all to get back home to Miranda. He couldn’t think of a worthier reason for such disruption and discomfort.

…

By the time Max had bought a drink and some snacks, and located his seat to settle in for the night, the lights of the mainland were slowly shrinking across the inky black water. Max took out his phone; he couldn’t resist one last message to Miranda before he got to see her again. His signal was down to only one bar already, so he’d have to type fast — no time to think much about the content.

Max:
Your surprise will arrive quite early tomorrow, hope you didn’t want a lie in 😁 Still out and about to lose signal... 😞 Talk in the morning when your surprise is there 🎁 xxx

Miranda’s reply was almost instant; Max wondered if she’d been avidly waiting to hear from him in case he was able to text. That was a good sign, right?

Miranda:
The suspense is killing me. Night x

He smiled; just the response he’d expected from her. He tucked his phone away and got cosy before starting on his late-night snacks. At this early stage of the trip, it was quite noisy with everyone finding their places and trying to get comfortable. Some excitable small children nearby were chattering and playing games as their tired parents tried to calm them down. No chance of a good rest for anyone just yet.

Eventually, things around Max quietened down enough that he and many of his fellow-passengers were able to snatch a few hours of sleep. When he woke it was still dark, but with just a smudge of orange creeping up into the eastern sky. He took a stroll on deck in the cool morning breeze, watching a lump hove into view — it must be Mallorca, he realised with joy, tempered just a little with trepidation. He knew what he was going to do now, but still not what he was going to say. At least that was a start. Time to put things into action and make himself look presentable.

Max spent the next hour of the journey on purchasing and eating a light breakfast of coffee and croissants, and on morning ablutions. He changed into his outfit for greeting Miranda, getting slightly puzzled looks as he walked about the ferry in his smart clothes. As the vessel came ever closer to Palma, he watched as the clouds broke and the sun rose behind the island in a glorious blaze of gold and crimson. He hoped the beautiful start to the morning was a sign of things to come.

Soon enough, the announcement was made for passengers with vehicles to return below decks and get ready to disembark. The ship was alive with travellers preparing to leave and crew going about their tasks to get them all safely into port. The gradual slowing down and then judder told Max that they had docked. The ferry doors began to spew out the lines of cars. Max waited his turn and then eventually felt his car wheels back on the hallowed Mallorcan ground. It seemed wrong that it had been six months since he’d last been here, but at least it had made him even more pleased to finally be back. Not that he didn’t like Andalucía — he really loved the place — but it had an insurmountable flaw: Miranda wasn’t there.

Max steered his car out of the port and east round the coast towards El Molinar, passing the police station and driving down roads that he used to take with Miranda. How had he not realised quite how happy driving round with her had made him at the time? He’d jump at the chance now to see her every day and be at her side, even for just the most mundane of reasons. No threat of being put on currency touts or traffic violations would bother him, as long as it was with Miranda.

He parked up at the side of the small curve of beach that lay around the last corner before Miranda’s street. He needed a few minutes to collect himself and put the finishing touches to his outfit before a short walk in the sea air to calm his nerves and ground himself. Feeling butterflies in his stomach, he picked up his bow tie from the passenger seat and laid it round his neck. He thought about doing it up — weren’t surprises better wrapped up in a bow? After a moment’s consideration, he left it hanging loose; that ‘Bond having a good time’ look seemed sexy.

As he put his fingers on the door handle, it was apparent from his shaking that he needed a little longer. He fished his phone out of his pocket and put on a song that had chimed with him on the drive up from Málaga: All or Nothing. The song spoke of driving home to be with a friend, someone you had finally realised you loved so much that you would go through the night just to be with them and declare your feelings to them. It was now the theme of his travels back to Miranda.

Cheered by the song, Max took a deep breath and got out of his BMW. He began the final stage of his long journey at last, walking purposefully along the empty Sunday morning streets, still rosy with the dawn. It was now or never.

Chapter Text

Miranda woke up early to the sound of seagulls outside her window again, joined this time by the roar of a motorbike. She couldn’t begrudge the hour of her awakening though — Max’s surprise would be here this morning, whatever the hell that was.

Given that he hadn’t given her a time to expect the mystery delivery, she decided she’d better not go for a shower in case she missed the knock at the door. Instead, she brought tea and toast up to her roof terrace and sat enjoying it in the pale pink light, with her dressing gown wrapped around her against the last of the nighttime cool. It was such a beautiful morning that she took a few pictures on her phone. She might send one to Max later, she thought idly, wondering if the view from his balcony in Málaga was as pretty.

As she sipped her tea — made with one of the bags Max had sent — she looked along the street. To the east towards Arenal, she could see a few joggers in the distance, discernible from their bright clothing and bobbing movement. In the direction of the city centre, there was nobody at all. No, wait: a man was just coming round the corner. Max! Oh, don’t be ridiculous, she chided herself. It must be that man she’d seen walking his dog. He probably lived around here — a new doppelgänger neighbour. Whoever he was, he must’ve had a good night; he looked from his manner of dress like he was on a walk of shame, or stride of pride as she’d heard it more favourably called now.

She tore her eyes away, thinking it was pathetic to be staring at a Max lookalike. Instead she ignored her cringing embarrassment and scrolled through her phone to a photo of Max dressed similarly to the tall, dark stranger. God, he looked good, she thought as she admired the image of her friend. She began to fantasise about returning to Málaga and going out somewhere fancy with him dressed like that, and her in her smart red dress. They’d go dancing, and one thing would lead to another…

The sudden guilty realisation crossed Miranda’s mind that this was the opposite of trying to get over Max. She set her phone down on the table with a sigh and tipped her head back, closing her eyes and soaking in the growing warmth of the early rays. She knew she should turn her mind from her handsome friend and instead to what to do with the rest of her weekend. A lot of that hinged on Max though: first the mystery delivery, and then the chat he’d promised they’d have after its arrival.

If the gift was more food, she could have a nice lunch or perhaps dinner, if she went out in the afternoon to supplement whatever it was with some fresh vegetables — not to the market this time though, since it was shut on Sundays. Or maybe it would be a gift of some of the Málaga wine she had so enjoyed. In that case, she’d enjoy a glass or two up here at sunset, toasting her friend across the water.

What else could it be, other than food and drink, which were so often at the front of Max’s mind? Possibly a book? Not a record, because he knew she didn’t have a player. Some souvenir from her visit? She had said she’d liked the Moorish star patterns they’d seen at the Alhambra and elsewhere on their excursions together, so perhaps he’d sent something decorative with that design on? It would be like him to return the favour since she had brightened his place up. She couldn’t be sure about any one idea actually being the surprise though; he’d been too secretive.

Getting no further with working out what the delivery was going to be, she thought instead to what Max had been up to this weekend. He’d driven through Friday night into Saturday morning, then not been in contact much through the day, and after that he’d been out of signal range most of last night. What could he be up to? Had he gone on a weekend trip somewhere? Setting off at night sounded like the impulsive Max she knew. If he was somewhere without network coverage, perhaps he’d gone to stay in the mountains. Would that explain how he’d be able to talk to her later today though? Maybe, if he knew his latest destination had signal, or he was going to be able to use WiFi?

The only other possibility for temporary loss of coverage she could think of was that he’d got the ferry to Morocco, or one of the Spanish exclaves in North Africa. It seemed strange that he would’ve been driving through the night to embark though — ferries to Melilla left from Málaga itself. Maybe he’d driven to somewhere like Tarifa or Algeciras because he wanted to go somewhere other than Melilla? He had mentioned once that he’d wanted to get the Tarifa ferry to Tangier, now that she thought about it. Still odd to lengthen the journey like that though — what had he done during the day while he waited for the ferry? Tarifa couldn’t have been much more than a couple of hours’ drive from Málaga, so he could’ve easily made the trip during the day. Why stretch it out? Where was the sense? It seemed rather strange.

It was no good: she’d just have to wait to hear from him to find out, annoying as it was to fail to work out his logic and remain in the dark. Back to thinking about what she might do after talking with her bestie. A nice afternoon walk, perhaps? Some more of her new book? Another gentle run to slowly regain fitness, since her hip had forced her to rest in recent weeks? Or maybe if Max was off exploring, she could do the same? She could get a train or a bus somewhere she hadn’t been, or at least not as a tourist — investigating cases did tend to get in the way of appreciating the area and it might do her good to go for a little day trip and see things with different eyes. Yes, maybe she could find out if there were any events on worth visiting.

A loud knocking at the front door interrupted her thoughts. It must be time for Max’s surprise. She sprang to her feet, feeling butterflies in her stomach at the culmination of all the anticipation she’d felt. As she moved indoors, she felt tense from not knowing what was coming, yet somehow also light from the loving care Max was showing by sending her a gift. Of course, she’d rather have him here than any present he could ever have delivered, but she couldn’t have everything, could she?

Chapter Text

Max had approached Miranda’s home with his heart pounding in his chest and the blood rushing in his ears, hoping she’d be up already when he got there — if he’d just woken her she might not be in the right frame of mind for his unexpected arrival and declaration. He’d stared at the pavement before his feet as every step had brought him closer to her and to voicing his feelings in words as yet undecided. I like you? I love you? Can I take you on a date? Would you like to be more than friends? Will you be my girlfriend? Nothing sounded quite right — it definitely would be a case of winging it and hoping for the best.

With his knees wobbly and his legs leaden, at long last he’d crossed the couple of metres between the street and Miranda’s front door. He’d put his hand out to the pale blue doorframe to steady himself for a few moments and then he’d steeled himself to knock, even though he still hadn’t got any further with what to say than ‘hello’. No going back now though.

He’d raised his right hand, knocked as firmly and loudly as he could, and stepped back. Nervously, he’d run a hand over his dark waves and then smoothed his shirt down, making sure he looked at his best, or as close as was possible after a night on the ferry. All he could do now was wait and try to keep some semblance of calm.

After about thirty stomach-knotting seconds, there was movement and a white shape appeared behind the glass panels in front of him. There was a clicking of locks and the door opened a crack. Miranda’s face came to the opening, checking who was looking for her. There was a loud gasp, the fumbled removal of the chunky metal chain, and then the door was flung wide open. Miranda stood there in her thin white dressing gown, mouth slightly open in disbelief.

Max swallowed. His mouth felt dry and there was a cold tingling in his fingertips. “Hi,” he said simply, holding the red rose up in front of him, hoping that he had made the right decision in wearing his tuxedo.

“Hi,” Miranda responded in an almost-whisper, in a state of confused shock at him suddenly being at her door.

They both stood there, staring at each other, not knowing what was going to happen next. Miranda was busy wondering what the hell this unannounced appearance meant, while Max was trying to silence the chatter in the back of his mind that was feeding him unwelcome doubts about her reciprocation of his newly-discovered feelings.

After what felt like a long time, but in reality was far less than even a minute, Miranda broke the eye contact. She looked Max over. The tuxedo, the red rose, the inability to speak, the worried, yearning look on his face, the love in his eyes… he was not here as a friend. It had to be more: at long last, Max wanted her as more than his friend — the inspired touch of the rose had made it clear.

She had wanted him for so long, and now he was presenting himself to her on her doorstep, like he’d stepped out of one of her dreams, a Sunday morning gift to make her week. Was she really about to get her wish? It seemed unreal, but there he was, right in front of her. Her gaze flicked over his suit-clad body and then up to his lips, before settling back on his hopeful blue eyes.

This was all the invitation Max needed. He stepped forward purposefully, the smile almost gone from his face as he stopped right in front of Miranda, serious about wanting this to be absolutely perfect. Looking intently into her eyes, he reached his hand up and stroked his thumb tenderly across her cheek. Seeing Miranda’s lips twitch up in nervous delight, Max took his chance. He dropped his hand down to her shoulder and rapidly moved his lips to hers, starting softly in case he came on too strong. Miranda responded almost immediately and they shared a heart-soaring first entirely-reciprocated kiss, both of them aflame with desire and the glow of love.

As the kiss began to end, Max stuck the long rose stem into his pocket and put both his hands on Miranda’s tiny waist. Parting their lips with some reluctance, he pulled his head back a little to look at her. He needed to check two things: that this really was happening and that Miranda wanted it as much as he did. The way her eyes were shining at him and the flush on her cheeks told him all he needed to know. He’d never seen her look so happy. Gently, he rested his forehead against hers as they smiled their joyful love to each other, soft breath on one another’s skin.

Pulse racing, Miranda made the next move. That one brief kiss hadn’t been nearly enough and she was feeling sufficiently bold to take the initiative now. She pressed her lips to Max’s, slowly and tentatively, then soon kissing him more deeply and with building passion as her confidence grew. She put her hands on his shoulders, pulling herself up to him, needing to feel his body hot against hers.

“I missed you,” Max breathed when he eventually pulled his mouth away.

“I missed you too,” Miranda murmured back. She couldn’t stop grinning.

Max was smiling just as broadly; this was going even better than he’d hoped.“Good surprise then?”

“The best,” she admitted willingly as her fingers stroked the back of his neck. She certainly hadn’t expected anything remotely as wonderful; her love coming to her like this beat any parcel she could ever receive, hands down. She was glad it had been a surprise in the end, because she knew that any warning would only have given her time to overthink things and become nervous and awkward. For once she had found spontaneity freeing.

Max nuzzled his face against her hair and spoke into her ear. “Going to let me in?”

Miranda nodded. “The whole way.”

Separating herself from him, she stepped back and walked into the living room, turning around at the top of the couple of steps that led up from the entrance. Max followed right behind her and stopped on a lower stair, their height difference evened out somewhat now. He shot a wink at her, sending a shiver of pleasure through her. She reached out to him and pulled him in for another kiss, long and loving and lustful, their bodies pressed hard together and their hands touching parts of each other they’d only dreamed about. Miranda’s fingers found their way into the curls that fringed his neck, while Max slid his hands slowly down her back. As he brought them round to rest on her hip, she inhaled sharply.

Max withdrew as he immediately realised his error. “Oh, your hip!” he cried, almost feeling the pain himself. “I’m so sorry!”

Miranda shook her head. “It’s not that bad now — just don’t put pressure right on the scar please?”

A nod from Max was his promise not to hurt her. He thought for a moment. “Can I see it?” he requested gently.

Miranda hesitated; it was hardly her most attractive feature. But then, if she wanted all of him, didn’t he deserve to see all of her? She cautiously smiled her agreement, pulled her flimsy dressing gown apart, then lowered her pyjama shorts down below her hip at one side.

She looked straight ahead to the front door, feeling so vulnerable and exposed. “It’s ugly, isn’t it?” Her face twisted into shame.

Max bent down to get a close look. “Every part of you is so beautiful,” he corrected her with reverence. “So, so beautiful.” He traced his fingers delicately around the edge of the healing wound, mindful of not actually touching it. “This bit here helped me realise how much you meant to me. The thought of losing you…” He looked up at Miranda to see tears of relief and happiness welling in her eyes.

Steadying himself by holding her other hip, Max leaned forward and fluttered a tender kiss next to the line of the red scar. He trailed more kisses up her hip and across her stomach, then rose to his feet again and moved his attentions back to her lips. As the kiss grew ever more passionate, he slid his hands to her thighs and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, enjoying the novel intimacy. Max couldn’t hold the position for too long so he ascended the short flight of steps and stumbled them both to the edge of the room, where the wall could help him support her.

They stayed kissing and caressing for some time, Miranda’s back against the living room wall and her legs hooked around Max’s body, holding him hard against her. Max hadn’t expected things to move so fast; he’d assumed there would be more talking and a lot more caution. He wasn’t about to interrupt what was happening for that though. Miranda’s keenness was enough for now — there would be plenty of time for discussion later. And hopefully for a lot more kissing too, he thought with an inner smile.

Eventually, Max moved his mouth down to Miranda’s neck and began teasing her, sucking and lapping and circling with his tongue. The sensation was like a raw energy thrumming through her. It was then that she knew there was no stopping this force. Now they had started, she and Max were going for it, all or nothing. The feel of fingers on her breast sealed it. Friends to lovers in minutes and years.

“Take me upstairs,” she whispered, eyes shut as his mouth moved lower.

“You sure?” Max mumbled against her flushed skin.

“I want you, Max,” she breathed hotly into his ear. “Now.”

“Oh god,” he groaned. “Let’s go!” No point arguing with her once she’d made her mind up — he’d learned that from experience.

Max hurried awkwardly to the stairs, still carrying Miranda, taking them both higher with a sense of urgency. She clung to him as they climbed, reaching one hand out to the wall for balance when he paused halfway up. In the morning brightness of the bedroom, she slithered down his body, then threw her dressing gown off and over to the chair in the corner, too enthralled to bother to hang it properly on its usual hook. She sat down on the bed, light shining on her white pyjamas so that Max felt he could almost see her through them. She gave him a seductive smile, patting the space next to her for him to join her.

Temporarily transfixed, Max gulped, then shook himself into action, kicking his dress shoes off and draping his black tuxedo jacket in a haphazard manner over the chair, the rose still poking out of the pocket. He almost ran towards the bed and sat with a tentative eagerness beside Miranda, his thigh brushing her bare one.

All patience abandoned in the heat of this charged moment, Miranda turned towards Max, pushed him backwards with a palm on his chest and rapidly climbed upon him, fingers seeking the buttons of his shirt. It was time to unwrap her very welcome surprise.

Chapter Text

A while later, Max and Miranda lay side by side in her bed, flushed and grinning. They were too hot yet to cuddle up as they both longed to, so they were settling instead for just holding hands, Max’s thumb stroking the back of Miranda’s hand as they rested, staring up at the ceiling and trying to take in all that had occurred that momentous morning.

“Wow,” Max said quietly. “I can’t believe I just did that with you!”

Miranda scrunched her eyes shut and bit her lip. Although his tone and his gentle grip on her hand seemed positive, she needed reassurance. “You don’t— you don’t regret it?” she checked. If he said he did, she might just have to run away immediately, even though it was her home they were in. How mortifying it would be to hear that.

“No! Of course I don’t — it was amazing!” Max cried, horrified that she would think that. He turned his head to face her; a worrying realisation had just hit him that perhaps her question was a case of projection. “Do you regret it?”

Miranda rolled onto her side and propped herself up on her elbow. “No, no, I don’t. I didn’t expect to get so carried away though.” Her dimples made a coy appearance at this point.

“That’s the power of my kisses,” Max told her with a cheeky wink. He was both relieved and flattered by her answer.

Miranda was in no position to argue with his bold assertion; whatever happened next, she’d never look back on the last hour or so with anything other than fondness. “Suppose it is,” she concurred lightly. She shuffled back down onto her pillow to lie facing her partner and nestled her hand back inside his.

There was a comfortable pause while they both thought about how far they had come and how much this morning had meant to them. Max turned his body and reached out his hand to brush it lightly across Miranda’s cheek, echoing his arrival at her door. “I’m so glad you didn’t push me away this time,” he shared.

Miranda sighed. He needed to understand why she had done what she had that intoxicating night in Málaga. “Last time, it was a random, spontaneous whim. I needed you to have thought about it and to actually, properly want me.” Her eyes flashed with a hint of embarrassment at laying her feelings bare.

“That makes sense,” Max said thoughtfully. “I get it — you’re not after something casual.”

Miranda smiled softly at him as he took in what she was telling him. “No, that’s not me. The rose, the tux, the travelling through the night to get back home to me — this time was different. I hope…?” Her eyes flitted across his face, looking for an indication of the truth.

“It was two nights, actually, but yeah, I wanted this — you — so much,” Max agreed. A look of guilt crossed his handsome face. “I, uhh, just took a while to realise it.”

Miranda shot him a wry look; ‘a while’ indeed. “So what is ‘this’?” she asked a little hesitantly, wondering if she should be shining a spotlight onto something so new. She was pretty sure what she wanted it to be, and she knew deep down that she needed to ascertain now whether they were finally on the same page — a drawn-out misunderstanding might end up worse than an early disappointment.

Max could see the need for security in Miranda’s conflicted expression and it wounded him to think that she might still be entertaining the idea that he would reject her. He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a tender kiss to it. He looked longingly into her eyes as he lowered their hands again, ready to tell her what ‘this’ meant to him. “Love,” he replied simply. “I love you, Miranda, mi compañera.”

Miranda was silent for a moment as her head swam. Nobody had ever said that to her before and she’d given up hope of hearing it. The warm rush the words had created within her was so powerful and gratifying; she’d need more of this. It felt a bit awkward trying to get the sentiment to come out, given her characteristic difficulty expressing her emotions, but she needed to let Max feel that same overwhelmingly beautiful sensation. She swallowed and gave it her best attempt. “I, I love you.”

Max beamed; he felt on top of the world. All his worry and loneliness had melted away today and all that was left was pure joy. Every second it just got better and better. He pulled Miranda towards him and gave her a long, loving kiss, his arms holding her slender naked body close against his.

When the kiss eventually ended, he lay on his back again, with Miranda draped across him now, her head on his chest and her palm to his stomach. He pressed his lips to the top of her hair and sighed contentedly as he took in her delicate scent. “So, I guess I’ll ask for a transfer back here as soon as possible, you know, seeing as you love me.” He couldn’t help but smile with the echo of her declaration in his head.

Miranda tilted her neck to look at him. “But what about your promotion? Your apartment?” Being the cause of a career setback felt horribly wrong to her.

Max shrugged beneath her. “I’ve got things set up well and at a point where I could hand over. You know I’m not bothered about promotions, not really. I just want to be happy, and working with you made me happy. And now this…” He smiled even more widely; today he was the luckiest man in Mallorca.

“You really want to give it all up?” Miranda asked again. She had to know he meant it wholeheartedly before she’d accept him making such a huge decision because of her.

“For you, for us — yes! We’re in love!” Max exclaimed with gusto. “Whatever the choice, I’d pick you every time.” He gave her a squeeze for emphasis; she had to know how much she meant to him.

Miranda felt better now she had such a vehement assurance. Max was really coming back to her — or at least he’d try to. With luck and willing bosses, they’d be compañeros again soon and everything would be right in her little world. Feeling playfully happy now they’d talked and it had gone so well, she decided to have some fun and test Max’s earnest pledge to its limits. “What if it was me or a lifetime’s supply of charcuterie?”

”I’d give up ham and sausages for you,” Max announced solemnly. “German, Spanish, Italian, French… the whole lot.”

Miranda tried again: this one might be harder. “Me or unlimited free pastries from Carmela’s for life?”

Surprisingly, there was no hesitation. “You, and we learn to bake our own pastries together. I’m sure I could charm a couple of recipes out of my favourite bakers.”

Miranda didn’t doubt the power of his persuasion. One last option to tempt him with — the most difficult one yet? “Me or beer?”

Max had this all figured out in his head already. “You, and we take early retirement and move to our bodega in Binissalem and be wine snobs together. Perfect.”

Miranda ran her hand lovingly across his abdomen. “Wow, you’re really serious.” She’d never felt so wanted and so in the right time and place as right here, right now, with Max. Her Max.

“Oh, totally serious about you,” he confirmed, stroking her back. “It will take a couple of months, maybe more, to sort out transferring back here. If they’ll even allow it… I might have to do a bit of begging, but I’m not above that.”

“In the meantime, I can come and visit you for the weekends, or you can come here,” Miranda suggested, her fingertips trailing in the line of hair that ran down the centre of his chest. Living apart now would be torture; they’d have to do all they could to close the gap between them as often as possible.

“Yeah, we’ll have to do the long-distance thing for a little while,” Max agreed. It was irritating that they would have to be separate for their early days, but then one silver lining occurred to him. “Oh, if you come to me again, we can use my restaurant vouchers for a bit of romantic fine dining! You could wear your red dress that you look so sexy in.” He gave a low growl; it was exciting that he’d be able to openly appreciate her in that outfit now, instead of hiding behind a quick glance and a polite compliment.

Miranda smiled at his admission. “I knew you liked me in that! I’ll definitely visit if you’ll be taking me out. I’d like to see more of Málaga, and the rest of Andalucía.”

Max was only too glad to have someone special to share his free time with. “Great! I’ll think of some perfect long weekends for us, though I’m not sure how much time there’ll be for actually going out when I’ve got a very comfortable king-sized bed...” He tickled the soft skin of Miranda’s waist.

“Max!” She gigged as she squirmed under his touch.

“Don’t tell me you don’t want more! Oh, Miranda, this morning was just the beginning…” Max announced lustily, twisting his hips towards her.

Miranda’s eyebrows arched upwards. “Oh, you’ve got ideas for me, have you?” She traced her forefinger in tiny circles over his chest, enjoying his shiver of response as she grazed his nipple.

“Mm. Plenty — I hope you didn’t have some sort of schedule for the day,” Max smirked. He stroked his thumb across the curve of her hip as she hooked her leg further over him, eager to find out exactly what he had in mind. “Actually, talking of plans, I should start flat hunting.”

Miranda nodded, then wrinkled her nose as a thought came unbidden to the front of her mind. “Maybe not?” she said, caution in her rising intonation.

“Huh? I have to live somewhere.” Max was frowning now; did she want him to waste his money on hotels, or try long-term camping?!

Miranda tilted her head to meet his gaze. “I know you need somewhere to live, but I meant… How about here?” Her eyes darted across his face as she tried to work out if she’d said something she shouldn’t have. “On a trial basis!” she added hurriedly, wondering if she’d had a temporary lapse of judgment.

Max couldn’t keep the grin off his face. He could hardly believe such an offer had come from someone so naturally private as Miranda; she must really love him a lot already. His heart had never felt so full. “Wow, you move fast when you get going, huh?”

Miranda looked away. It should feel too much, too soon… but it didn’t. She met his gaze again, sure of her willingness to try. “Nobody knows me like you. I never thought I’d say this, but I just want you with me, all the time…” She thought for a moment about him moving in — the practicalities, adjustments, teething issues… she’d better make it completely clear that either of them could decide against it, if it didn’t work out. “Our weekend visits can be a taster, just to be sure? Test it out?”

Max was happy with that, being not overly comfortable with full commitment until relatively recently. “Great!” he agreed. “Oh, and I can stay here all this week, if you want me — I didn’t book the return ferry yet, just in case I embarrassed myself and wanted a speedy getaway.”

“I’m not letting you go now until I absolutely have to,” Miranda replied with an edge of fierce determination. She had found her special person and nothing was going to come between them yet. Whatever the last ferry he could take to get him back to Málaga in time for work next week was, that would be the one he’d be getting now.

Max kissed her forehead, breathing in her familiar smell again — lemony fresh. “That is exactly what I wanted to hear. You have me until next weekend. I’m all yours.”

The best part of a week with Max was music to Miranda’s ears; she only wished she too had the time off work. Still, they’d have the evenings, the early mornings, and perhaps even lunchtimes if the cases assigned to her were local and mundane enough. The thought of sneaking out of the police station in the middle of the day for some secret alone time with Max was delicious. She gave him a preview with a sudden kiss that promised more pleasure to come soon.

“Before I get carried away and forget, I have a surprise in mind for you,” Max murmured as she settled back on his chest.

“Another one?” Miranda replied warily.

“Yep! You’ll need to pack an overnight bag for it,” Max revealed, very pleased with himself for coming up with the idea.

Miranda hesitated. She hated to burst his bubble, but more suspense wasn’t what she wanted right now. “Max, I’ve obviously had the best surprise I’ve ever had today, but I’m not sure I can take any more yet.”

Max chuckled; he should’ve known he’d kept her in the dark enough this weekend. “Fine, I’ll tell you then. I thought I could book us in at the place we had my goodbye meal in. Watch the sunset over cocktails, fancy dinner and fine wine, back to our luxurious room…”

Miranda liked the sound of the ‘our’; it would take a little while to get used to, but it was wonderful to hear. She thought back to the emotional night of the farewell, when Max had promised he’d find a reason for them to return to the expensive restaurant. “So… did you mean this was the special occasion you’d come up with? This — us? All this time, all through my visit… you’d realised already?” She worried now that she’d been wrong when she’d broken off the kiss in Málaga; had she robbed them both of a few extra precious weeks together?

“Embarrassingly, no,” Max admitted sheepishly. “I literally just figured this out — had a lonely Friday night epiphany. Sorry.” He felt more than a little stupid for his slowness and he knew he had some making up to do.

Miranda gave a tut of faux irritation. “At least you got there in the end.” She gave him a patronising pat on the cheek.

Max didn’t mind her teasing — if anything, he was pleased to be the one to bring out her jokey side. “Ja, I guess time was on our side, Schatz.” He stroked her arm in lovestruck adoration.

Miranda slid her hand teasingly down Max’s body, feeling him begin to arch up to her in excitement. “Still is.” She had plenty of ways to occupy the rest of the day that stretched out before them; hadn’t she dreamed about this enough over the years? Reality would be even more exciting.

“Hours to fill until lunchtime,” Max responded happily. He had a feeling he was going to really enjoy whatever they got up to next. He couldn’t think of a better way to spend his Sunday than with Miranda, getting to know each other even better as their love grew; a whole month of Sundays like this one wouldn’t be too much.

Chapter Text

Naked beneath the cool sheet, Max slid across the bed and grabbed Miranda’s hand as she reached down towards the bedside table to pick up her phone. ”Do you really have to go in? Couldn’t you pull a sickie?” he pleaded, pouting up at her and batting his eyelashes.

Miranda pulled a face of disapproval. “Do you know anything about me?”

Max let go of her and let his head fall back on to the pillow with a sigh. “Ok, Señora Workaholic, I’ll see you tonight then.”

Fully-dressed already in something a bit too sensible for Max’s liking, Miranda squinted down at him. “What are you going to do with yourself today? Take it Christian’s not free?”

“No, his clients need him all day for the whole week — pretty sure that’s what he said when he postponed his trip.” Max considered his options for how to pass the hours before Miranda returned to him. Naturally, the matter of what to eat was top of the list. “Maybe I’ll go shopping at the market, swing by Carmela’s and a coffee place, and then cook you a delicious dinner.” He realised he’d skipped properly dating Miranda and was keen to begin to make up for it with a cosy, romantic evening.

Miranda smiled, feeling so fortunate to have him there and wanting to look after her. “Lovely. Spare key’s in the drawer in the dining room.” She glanced at the time. “Better go now.”

Max lunged and grabbed her hand again before she could start to leave. “Wait!”

He pulled Miranda down for a lingering kiss, wishing he could tumble her all the way back into bed with him, but knowing he’d only make her very annoyed if he tried to keep her from her duties. He ended the show of affection reluctantly and gave her hand a squeeze before letting it drop.

“Ok, now you can go,” he told her with a mischievous smile.

For once, Miranda found herself cursing her conscientiousness.

…

Max had intended to get up after Miranda departed, but the disruptions to his sleep with first the travel and then the last twenty four hours spent acquainting himself with Miranda meant that he nodded off again quickly, wrapped in her soft bedding. He dreamed of his love, snippets of the last couple of days assembling themselves in a confused, yet satisfying montage. He slept well, until the buzzing of his phone woke him again an hour later.

Rico:
Does silence mean it went so well yesterday you forgot everyone else existed? Or have you drunk yourself into oblivion somewhere? 😬

Max:
Sorry! Forgot to update you. Went really well 😁 Best case scenario 😍 She said she LOVES ME!!!

Rico:
I’m so pleased for you, my friend. Told you you’d win her over 💪

Max:
Turned out all I needed to do was go to her place in my tux and say hi 😂 Thanks for your part in getting me there

Rico:
De nada. Just don’t forget to invite me to the wedding 😉

Max hadn’t really considered what came after the near future in any detail, so the mention of marriage should’ve scared him at least a little — it certainly had the first few times it had been mentioned with Carmen. He felt quite at peace with the idea now though. Perhaps some of Miranda’s sense of responsibility had rubbed off on him.

…

Miranda sat at her desk thinking how much had changed since she was last there on Friday night. Her world looked very different now: she had a boyfriend and they were in love. It was almost unbelievable to her, especially with the speed they had changed from friends to so much more — at the start of the weekend she had been lonely and pining, and by the end of it she’d never felt less alone and more cherished. The empty desk opposite no longer bothered her as she tapped away at her keyboard: Max might be occupying it again soon, and in case, he was occupying her bed right now, and that was much, much better.

Inés stepped out on her way to speak with a team in another room along the corridor, but stopped in her tracks when she saw Miranda’s dreamy expression. Surely her obsession-prone British officer couldn’t be enjoying reports that much? “Blake, you seem really… happy? I haven’t seen you grin like this since Winter left.”

Miranda looked slowly towards her boss. “Yeah…” she agreed sheepishly.

Inés stepped forward and lowered her voice. “Did something happen this weekend?” She hadn’t expected Winter to make his move quite so quickly, but maybe…?

Miranda raised her eyebrows and flicked her gaze briefly up to the side. “Your office?” She knew Inés wouldn’t let her get on without hearing the news.

Inés nodded readily and quickly led her detective into her private room. She sat behind her desk with an eager expression on her face and thumped her palm down on the tabletop. “Tell me everything,” she commanded.

Miranda took a fortifying breath. “Ok… so, Max turned up on my doorstop yesterday morning in his tux, holding a red rose. He’d been travelling since Friday night and he’d just got off the night ferry,” she shared with slight embarrassment, her dimples appearing at the memory.

“¡Ay, qué romántico!” Inés swooned, letting out a soft side she rarely revealed.

“Yeah, after all this time, he finally realised,” Miranda replied shyly. She shifted in her chair, perennially awkward at discussing anything that involved feelings.

“Took him long enough!” Inés burst out, unable to stop her eyes rolling.

“Mm. He says your hints did help a bit, and the texts.” Miranda was aware that Max hadn’t quite got all the way to his realisation alone, and she was grateful to her boss in the end, painful as her interference had been at times.

Inés shrugged mischievously. “I meddle where it is needed,” she smirked. Her eyebrows knitted into a frown as she put herself in Miranda’s position. “Tell me though: if the literal love of your life just turned up to declare his feelings, what the hell are you doing here?! You should have called in sick!”

Miranda was outraged. “I couldn’t do that! I was going to ask if I could have some time off at the end of the week though…?” She looked hopefully at her boss, braced for a refusal since she hadn’t given sufficient notice, as per the annual leave policy.

Inés waved a hand in the air. “I can do better than that. Stay and do paperwork until lunch, then don’t come back until next Monday, ok?”

Miranda’s mouth fell open; this was so unexpected. “Really? Are you sure? The whole week?”

“You are only just back anyway, so it’s not like you have a lot on. I can spare you for some extra ‘recuperation’,” Inés confirmed with a knowing wink.

Miranda felt a blush creep up her neck and into her face. “Thank you so much,” she mumbled. It had definitely paid to let Inés involve herself in the end; a whole week with Max was all she wanted right now, and she had got it without even requesting it. Her boss was definitely a secret romantic.

Inés sat back and squinted at her officer. “You’re welcome. What is the plan though? Long distance?”

Miranda bit her lip; she’d have to be the one to broach the employment subject then, rather than Max. Maybe it would be good to find out what Inés thought about it as soon as possible. “For a while, and we’ll visit each other as much as we can, but… we were hoping you’d have him back here?” She screwed up her face in anticipation of rejection.

Inés seemed to take this revelation in her stride. “I’d be happy to have Winter back here, as long as his superiors in Germany agree. They’ll have to find someone to take over in Málaga, obviously.”

“Oh, that’s brilliant news.” Miranda blinked rapidly to clear her eyes of the tears of relief that were threatening. Everything might really work out for her and Max.

“At least I know what I’m getting with him,” Inés continued. She’d clearly had enough of Germany’s prevarication on sending a replacement and would rather stick with the devil she knew, if she had the option. “I’ve no problem with you two working together as long as you are professional. Keep him in line, eh?” She shot a stern look across the desk; she might be a clandestine romantic, but she certainly didn’t want to see Blake and Winter all over each other in the office.

“You can trust me,” Miranda responded solemnly. She would make sure nothing messed up their partnership. This was truly for life now.

…

Early that afternoon, Miranda shut her front door behind her and called out loudly as she hung her bag up. “Max? I’m back!”

A cheery response came from the bedroom. “I’m up here! Just about to take a coffee outside.”

Miranda smiled and made her way upstairs to join him. Max had put his coffee down on the small desk near the doors to the roof terrace and was standing now in front of the bed, grinning at her, plainly delighted to see her hours before he’d expected to.

“You’re back early. Am I your dirty lunch break? Because I kind of like that…” He winked lustily as she walked towards him.

Miranda stopped in front of him and launched into her explanation. “Inés knew something was different by my face — looked too happy or something. When I told her, she said I could take the rest of the week as extra recovery.”

“I knew I liked her!” This was extremely welcome news to Max — Miranda all to himself for the whole of his stay. What a week they’d have!

Confident in their love, Miranda stepped forward and put her arms round his neck, brushing her body up against his. “You’re kind of right about the lunch break: it was pretty hard to focus on work when I’d left you in my bed,” she breathed. She reached up and kissed him with passion; she’d missed him dearly the last few hours and the way his hands ran over her told her he felt the same. She pushed herself harder against him, exhilarated by his touch.

Max grinned as she paused the kiss to catch her breath and sank down off her toes, resting her palms against his chest. “Ok, sex-obsessed-and-wanting-me Miranda is definitely my new favourite Miranda!”

“What was your old favourite?” she asked, looking up at him with a cheeky smile.

Max stared at the wall behind her for a second while he thought. “Hmm… It was probably between dimples-and-nose-wrinkle Miranda and pretty-sure-she-not-so-secretly-wants-to-kiss-me Miranda. I quite liked checking-me-out Miranda too.”

She was glad he hadn’t revealed he’d seen her admiring him before they’d got together — how awkward that would’ve been. “Mm, well, Max-in-my-bed is my new favourite Max, replacing is-he-about-to-kiss-me Max and he’s-so-sweet-and-caring Max,” she returned.

Max was enjoying this conversation very much, but an urgent growl from his stomach told him to interrupt it before things escalated. “Let’s have lunch and make sure we have the energy to be our favourites versions then.”

“I like your thinking,” Miranda agreed, realising she’d only had a cereal bar so far. Pondering what food he’d like, she had a memory flash up of something that needed sorting out. “Oh, you know, you can definitely book us that hotel and restaurant now I’m not working.”

“Consider me on it. Wednesday? I got dinner for tonight already and tomorrow I’d really like to go to El Camino — I’ve been dreaming of their scallops.” He opened his mouth and lolled his tongue out in mock ecstasy.

Miranda smiled at his food obsession, always near the front of his mind. “Fine by me. I’ll go and make us something to eat. Something British ok? Nothing fancy.”

“Everything British I’ve tried so far has been excellent,” Max replied naughtily, before pulling her up for another long kiss to sustain him while she cooked and he booked the hotel.

…

Miranda came back upstairs a while later carrying a tray with two fishfinger sandwiches on it. She stepped out onto the roof terrace where Max was sitting, looking at his phone, his empty coffee mug in front of him. Miranda put the plate down and sat opposite her hungry boyfriend.

Curious about the contents of the sandwich, Max peeled back the top layer of bread to inspect it. He worked out what it was immediately — Miranda was sharing part of the gift he’d sent her. He was honoured she was giving him one of her favourite comfort foods, though it wasn’t something he’d ever have thought to put in a sandwich, especially with vinegar, which he’d just got a strong whiff of as the hot steam coiled up under his nose. Oh well, he thought, I’ll try just about anything once. He picked up his lunch, took a hearty bite and closed his eyes to concentrate on the taste and mouth feel.

“Mm. Mmm. Pretty satisfying, actually,” he declared. “I see why this is comfort food for you.”

“Yeah. Thanks for sending the fishfingers,” Miranda smiled at him.

“You’re welcome. I’ll have to get you to try my comfort foods next,” Max teased, knowing she’d be a lot less willing for the reverse situation to happen. He’d never force her, but it would be nice to share his childhood favourites with her, if she could manage it.

“Maybe,” she responded, keen to skirt the subject. “Oh, so, Inés says she’d be happy to have you back, if Germany agree.”

Max grinned with excitement.“Fantastic! My boss was always super-stressed on a Monday, so I didn’t want to call today, but I’ll do it tomorrow morning definitely. And I’ll go and see Inés at some point this week too.” He felt her owed her some thanks in person, and maybe a decent bottle of wine to underscore the gratitude.

“She said I’ve got to make sure you remain professional working with me, by the way,” Miranda told him with amusement. He’d have to learn to copy her public restraint in all things and keep his hands off her until they got home, or at the very least into his car.

“Professional at work, so very, very un-professional in the sheets,” Max growled back. He winked lustily across the table.

“Max!” Miranda scolded, though not with much conviction. That wink had done some unexpected things to her.

Max nudged her leg under the table. “You love it.”

“Ok, yes, I do,” she admitted, blushing. What had she become with love in her life? A much happier version of herself, she realised. “Looks like everything will be ok, as long as Germany don’t block the move.”

‘Ok’ was understating it for Max. He shook his head gently. “No, it’ll be perfect!”

“I hope so... Hm, now Inés knows about us, we should tell Christian too,” Miranda said thoughtfully. “He’d want to be one of the first to find out.” She was sure their kind friend would be very happy for them both.

Max nodded. “I haven’t told him I’m here yet though. Invite him over after he finishes work and I’ll surprise him?”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “You and your surprises!” At least this one wouldn’t involve her being the one kept in the dark, she thought as picked up her phone to message Christian.

Miranda:
Hi Christian, are you free later? 🙂

Christian:
Client needs me until 19:00. You want to go for a drink or something after?

Miranda:
Come here - I’ll get wine? Max recommended one

Christian:
Well if Max says it’s good, I can’t refuse! I’ll bring olives and crisps. See you around 19:30?

Miranda:
Great 😊

Christian:
Maybe we can do a video call with Max, if he’s free? Little long-distance party 🥳🍷🫒

Miranda:
I’ll ask him 😁

A delicious smile lit up her face as she passed the phone to Max for him to read the conversation. Christian’s proposed video call could let them have a little fun with him.

…

With Max already quietly hiding upstairs on the roof terrace, Miranda turned up the music in the living room, before heading to the front door; background noise downstairs would be crucial if Max’s presence were to remain a secret initially. She stopped just before the door to make sure her face wasn’t giving anything away. Satisfied her expression was neutral enough, she opened the door to Christian, who was standing on the doorstop with a carrier bag of snacks and a grin.

“Hi, Christian!” she greeted him brightly.

“¡Hola, chica!” he replied, holding the bag out to her.

“Thanks for bringing these,” she replied as she accepted the snacks. She turned to go to the kitchen, letting him follow her in. “Do you want to ring Max while I get some bowls?” She was glad she had her back to him because she could feel a smirk starting. Best she wasn’t there for the start of the call.

“Ja! I’ll get the party started,” Christian agreed, heading to the sofa to take a seat. He found his conversation with Max and hit the video call button.

“Max!” he cried when his friend’s smiling image appeared on the screen after a few rings.

“Christian! Qué tal?” Max replied with quiet enthusiasm, hoping his voice couldn’t be heard over the music Miranda had put on, and that that same music wasn’t audible from his end.

“Eh, I’m fine. Busy week already though — I’d definitely rather be with you!” Christian shared, thinking that the waning glow of the evening sunshine bathing Max looked rather appealing.

“Such a shame you’re not here with me right now,” Max agreed. It was taking a lot of willpower not to laugh.

Christian narrowed his eyes as he turned up the volume on the call; he didn’t usually have a problem hearing Max. “Why are you whispering?”

Max froze for a moment, but luckily came up with a plausible excuse quickly enough. “Sore throat,” he explained, grimacing and patting his neck for effect.

“Oh, bad luck,” Christian sympathised. He spun the phone round towards the dining room. “Hey, here’s Miranda!”

Miranda approached carrying the bowls of crisps and olives, smiling shyly as she tried to keep up the subterfuge. “¡Hola!” she called out, trying to calculate the right way to say it to make it sound like she hadn’t just seen Max in person only five minutes ago. Max replied in kind.

“Shall we go up to the balcony, Christian?” Miranda suggested, jerking her head towards the stairs. “The wine’s up there.”

“Sure — does look lovely where Max is and I was getting kind of jealous,” he answered with a chuckle. “Give us a minute to set you up on the table, Max, and we’ll have a drink together.” He got up and walked to the stairs, while Miranda hung back to let him find Max first.

Christian climbed the staircase, thinking about the wine that awaited him. He almost always agreed with Max’s expert picks, though he fancied himself the superior connoisseur when it came to beer. He wondered if it would be a wine from the island, or perhaps a trusty Rioja.

As he reached the top and stepped into Miranda’s bedroom, he immediately noticed a tuxedo jacket draped over the chair in the corner. His stomach sank; had Miranda given up on Max and moved on? Was that why she’d got him round — to share the news? He felt sick that Max might have missed his chance, and frustrated that his friends had been idiots for so long for nothing. How maddening, when he’d thought his intervention might have actually helped get them somewhere. He prayed Max wouldn’t take it too badly.

Christian looked down to the phone again, flashing Max a smile that he hoped was hiding his upset. He angled the screen so that he filled most of it and there was no room for any clues about Miranda’s new man to show up. As he approached the doors to the terrace, he caught a flash of movement over the top of his phone. Someone was outside.

Surely not Miranda’s boyfriend, he thought with horror. Why would she not have mentioned him being there, given how she herself hated being surprised and forced to interact with someone new without warning? And why had she let him call Max? Was this some weird way of showing her ex-partner that he’d lost her? Was she trying to make Max jealous and dressing it up as innocent drinks with friends? He hadn’t thought Miranda would be the kind of person to make a point like that and he was uneasy at being a pawn in such a scheme.

Suddenly feeling very uncomfortable indeed, Christian lifted his eyes and held the phone a little lower — Max seemed to have disappeared momentarily so he needn’t be concerned with what his friend could see. He tried to put on a blank expression for whoever this third person turned out to be.

Immense relief hit the worried Christian when he saw who was waiting, watching him with a glass of red wine in his hand and a barely contained giggle twitching his lips. Clearly, his friends had been playing a little joke on him.

“Oh, my god! What are you doing here?” Christian cried, rushing towards Max.

Seeing Christian was about to envelope him in a bear hug, Max hurriedly put his glass of wine down on the table. “You were stuck in Palma and I had the week off,” he explained, voice muffled at the end by Christian’s fierce embrace. “Umm, and…” He peeled himself away as Miranda came quietly to his side.

Beaming, Max slipped his arm round Miranda’s waist and pulled her in for a brief, but passionate kiss, careful not to spill the olives and crisps she was carrying with his physical demonstration. When Max felt the point had been amply made that he and Miranda were a lot more than friends now, he pulled back and the pair of them stood facing Christian, both smiling with joy as Max’s fingers lovingly stroked Miranda’s hip and she tilted her head to rest it against his shoulder.

Christian was open-mouthed as he stood back to take in the scene; this was not at all the evening he’d been expecting. He could hardly believe Max had had the restraint to keep this development from him for any length of time at all. “No way!” he exclaimed excitedly. “You two finally got together?”

“Yeah. I gave Miranda a Sunday morning surprise,” Max shared with a little laugh.

Christian was practically jumping on the spot with happiness. “This is fantastic news! Best thing I’ve heard all year! Wow!”

He rushed forwards, but halted almost immediately when Miranda held the two bowls she was carrying aloft, her eyebrows raised in warning. Christian waited the couple of seconds it took her to put the snacks down on the table, then launched himself at the new couple for an enthusiastic group hug.

For once, Miranda didn’t object; everything about this week was a joy. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so at peace with herself and with the world.

Chapter Text

Arm-in-arm, Max and Miranda stepped out onto the terrace of their hotel, she in a very flattering emerald dress and he in a crisp navy shirt. The scene that met them as they moved into the warm evening light was breathtaking. It was golden hour now, that stage of sunset when everything looks impossibly beautiful and picture-ready; perfect timing for pre-dinner cocktails looking out over the Bay of Palma and beyond.

“The view up here is amazing!” Max breathed in wonder as they both took it all in, sitting side-by-side now, waiting for their drinks to arrive.

“It is, but the one from your balcony in Málaga is great too,” Miranda reminded him. A small, unkind part of her still occasionally doubted that he would really be willing to leave his new life behind for her, even though she had no reason to doubt him and every reason to believe.

“Hey, the view from your place is awesome too. I will happily trade mine in to share yours… unless you’ve changed your mind?” He scanned her features for signs of regret at her generous offer. “I’d understand.”

“Nope.” She was firm; him moving in was exactly what she wanted. “It’s a bit scary, sure… but, Max, we know each other so well now and I’ve been thinking about being with you for so long... We’ve been apart for what feels like forever; I want you with me all the time now.”

Max grasped her hand and held it tightly. “I want that too — I’m really looking forward to it. I just hope everything with Germany can get sorted out quickly. They sounded cautiously positive on the phone.”

Not knowing anything much about Max’s old bosses or how things worked back in Munich, Miranda had to trust that everything was going the way they wanted it. She had faith in Max sorting everything out for them. “We can definitely have some nice long weekends together until then. I’ve got plenty of annual leave left, remember.” She nestled her head against his shoulder as they both admired the ever-changing colours of the sky and its shimmering reflection in the water.

“Yes, we can explore a bit before I move back. Maybe stay over a few places — treat ourselves to a bit more of this luxury that I could easily get used to.” He let go of Miranda’s hand and shifted to put his arm around her and allow her to snuggle in closer. “Where would you like to go?”

Miranda had a guilty request. “I kind of want to see Gibraltar because it sounds such a weird place — a tiny slice of Britain, but in the sun.”

“Fine by me: I love a pub.” Max kissed the top of her head, then nodded his thanks as their cocktails were discreetly set down on the low table in front of them. “I’d like to go to Jerez and Cádiz for the sherry, the seafood and the history. They’re really close to each other so we could do both combined.”

“Sounds good,” Miranda agreed. “How about Sevilla?”

“Oh, definitely. The history, the architecture, the culture, the food… we have to!” He thought for a moment, trying to picture a map of Andalucía in his head. “Oh, Úbeda and Baeza in Jaén province too.”

Miranda had no idea these places existed. “I don’t know them at all,” she admitted.

“They’re just small towns, but they have tonnes of these amazing Renaissance buildings and they’re surrounded by thousands of olive groves,” Max explained, remembering a travel programme he’d seen once. “There’s a Parador hotel in Úbeda — we could stay in this grand old palace right in the heart of the historic centre for not too much money.”

That sounded appealingly romantic and sensible to Miranda. “I like your style, and your frugality — sensible after shelling out for this place”.

“Totally worth it for cosying up to you with this magnificent view and a fancy drink or two.” He stroked her arm lovingly, thinking how perfect the evening had been so far.

“I am enjoying it,” Miranda agreed. Now that she had accepted that, to him, the cost was a price worth paying for the indulgent stay, anyway. It was a sort of grand opening ceremony to their new relationship, an introduction to their new lives as two halves of a perfect whole. “You know where I really enjoyed? Ronda. That was a great day. I’d like to see some of the other white towns, if we can.”

Max had one in mind. “Setenil de las Bodegas looks cool — the streets are carved out of the rock and it hangs over the houses. Really dramatic looking.”

Miranda rested her palm on his thigh, loving his enthusiasm. It was fun to make plans together, even if not all of them would come to fruition. “I hope we can fit all this in!”

Max was pragmatic. “If we don’t, that’s some future holiday plans made — nothing stopping us visiting after I’ve moved back. Ooh, one more idea to throw in: how about we get the ferry to Tangier? I’d love to go to Morocco and try some authentic Moroccan food.” The tasters he’d had in Granada and Málaga had made him keen to seek out more, and he knew it was a cuisine that Miranda could handle, mostly.

Miranda smiled, thinking back a few days to when she’d had no idea that Max was coming to her, racing back to where he belonged like a homing pigeon. “I actually thought that might have been what you were up to at the weekend. I didn’t have a clue it was actually the Palma ferry you were getting.”

“But you’re glad it was.” He kissed the top of her head again. It wasn’t a question; she’d already shown him over and over how much she wanted him by her side.

“Extremely glad,” she confirmed with love in her voice. She lifted her head and kissed him, a tender demonstration of the depth of her feelings.

…

Dinner was every bit as fantastic as they last time they were here, except that it came without the pendulous weight of a heart-rending goodbye looming over them, and instead with the most incredible sunset view adding to the romance of the evening. Night had fallen by the time they had finished their final course and nibbled on sweet petit fours over coffee, the glow of sunset replaced now by the infinite pinpricks of starlight in the ink-dark sky.

They made their slow way back to their room at the cliff edge, a luxurious affair built into one of the lookout and cannon positions ringing the seaward side of the fortress. Max had paid the extra to get them this secluded spot with its own private terrace complete with hammocks, sun loungers and even a small swimming pool just for them. They had checked in as soon as they were allowed that afternoon and spent a happy few hours together, relaxing in the sun, in and out of the pool, and then later in the huge bed, before they showered and got ready for their meal.

It was such a warm night, with only the barest breeze wafting the sweet scent of various herbs and flowers towards them and gently crashing the dark waves against the foot of the cliffs below, that they decided to spend some more time on their terrace to enjoy it while they could.

Miranda had thought they would lie together on the comfy sun loungers, but Max had other ideas. He stood in the middle of their bedroom looking out through the glass doors to their little slice of heaven.

“So beautiful out there. How about a swim?” he suggested eagerly.

Miranda scrunched up her face. “Doubt my bikini will be dry from earlier yet.” Logically, she knew that it would be getting wet again as soon as she got in the pool, but there was something about the thought of putting it on damp and cold that made her skin crawl.

“So? Let’s skinny dip!” Max grinned at her — this could be rather an exciting extension to the evening’s activities.

“No way! I’ve never done that!” she protested.

Max put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Our terrace is completely private, so the only person who will see you is me, and I’ve seen all of you already.” He winked, keen to see it all again.

“Hmm… ok then,” she relented. It did seem safe, now he’d spelled it out. Maybe it would be fun.

Max leaned forward and whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her neck. “Can I undress you? I’ve been thinking about it all night.”

She spun round to let him undo the zip on the back of her dress, then turned to face him again. Slowly, Max pulled the straps of the dress off her shoulders and let it fall to her waist, baring her breasts. He cupped them in his hands and got down onto his knees to kiss them in turn, before tugging the dress off her hips and sending it down to the ground. He slid his fingers inside the lacy waistband of her knickers and slipped them down, his hands lingering on her firm buttocks. Miranda kicked the clothing off her feet and Max stood again, travelling his hands up her back before leaning in for a long, lusty kiss.

When it was clear he was getting rather carried away, Miranda flicked him in the stomach and ended the kiss.

“What happened to swimming?” she teased.

“You are very distracting,” he murmured. ”My turn.”

Willing to oblige, Miranda unfastened the buttons of his blue shirt, making sure her fingertips traced the skin of his chest and then his stomach as she got lower. She pushed the shirt open and ran her hands over his chest, before slipping it off his shoulders and flinging it onto a chair. Next, she fumbled with his belt and undid the button and zip on his trousers, letting them drop to his ankles. Just his underwear left now. She mirrored his movements earlier, sliding her hands underneath the top of the fabric and round to his bottom, caressing it and hearing him moan, before she tugged the fabric down and released him. Excited to be free, Max pressed his naked body to hers and initiated another passionate kiss.

This time he broke it off. He grabbed her hand and pulled her with him, the pair of them giggling as they ran naked across the smooth stone to the pool. They jumped into the shimmering rectangle, the inviting blue lit up by underwater lights. Together, they swam and chased, frolicked and splashed, carefree on this perfect night alone in their new love. They settled after a while to watch the stars, floating side-by-side on their backs with their heads resting against the pool’s edge and their toes languidly peeking out of the water.

“What a great place — wish I could afford a whole week,” Max remarked.

Miranda smiled at him. “It’s lovely, but save your money — there will be other things to spend it on.” Wise as ever.

”Hey, imagine if we got married here!” Max said excitedly.

”Don’t you think it would be a bit too expensive for us?” was the cautious reply.

Max sighed. “Probably... Umm, hey, you didn’t freak out or say no to marrying me!” He had tried to keep his hopes at bay, but this was a fantastic surprise.

”No, I didn’t…” she said quietly. “But it is way too early to be talking about that, you know. We haven’t even been together a week yet!”

“You’re right,” he agreed, thinking it had felt like they’d always been in love, somehow. Maybe somewhere else fancy they’d been together might work for the wedding he’d now decided was definitely happening at some point. “But hypothetically, do you think Son Sebastia would give us a discount since they know us?”

Miranda snorted. “The restaurant where we arrested the waitress who did most of the wedding coordination? The waitress who was the daughter of one of the owners, and she ended up in prison for murdering her father? That one?”

Max took her point. “Oh, yeah. Maybe not… Ah well, we’ll find somewhere good, when the time comes.” He reached for Miranda’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

”When the time comes,” she repeated softly, squeezing back. It didn’t seem at all a scary prospect with Max. Still, she knew she was right to slow him down. There was no rush — at the moment, it was perfect just being together.

Max pulled her hand out of the water and kissed the back of it with tender devotion. “For now, I’m happy being with you without having to label it or make it official with a ceremony.” No pressure, only joy.

”What would we label it right now though?” Miranda asked, curious.

Max thought through the options. “Boyfriend and girlfriend? Partners? Professional and unprofessional? Uhh, partners for life? Ooh! Geese!” He treasured the memory of that time on her roof terrace she’d let slip that she saw them together for the rest of their lives.

Miranda grinned. That moment had been awkward for her when she’d realised what she’d said to her friend, but she was so glad now that she had. “Geese.”

They both stopped floating to stand on the turquoise-tiled pool bottom and entwined themselves in a sensual embrace, kissing their ever-afters to one another under the starry sky. A breeze whipped up off the sea and rustled the plants around the terrace’s edge.

“Let’s fly to bed,” Max whispered with a shiver from having his dripping chest and shoulders out of the water.

“You go and I’ll be out in a minute,” Miranda instructed.

She began swimming lengths of the small pool as Max climbed out and towelled himself down, watching her go back and forth. After a few minutes, she followed him out up the steps while he watched, his beautiful Venus rising. He wrapped her up in the soft bath sheet he had held up ready for her, gently patting and rubbing her body.

When he was satisfied that she was dry enough, Max laid their towels out over the sun loungers, ready to catch the morning rays in case they found time for a swim before they had to check out. Swiftly, he walked back to Miranda, picked her up in his arms and carried her in to the enticing comfort of their love nest, for what he hoped might become their best night together yet.

Chapter Text

Max and Miranda sat at a cosy table in the restaurant he had been given a gift voucher for when he’d left Palma, back in February. The pricey establishment was part of a recently-renovated luxury hotel and was set in the inner patio of the old building, surrounded by a double-height colonnade and glassed in at the roof, protecting them from the chilly December weather tonight.

With only a couple of weeks to go until Christmas, the place was tastefully decorated with large, red velvet bows, swags of gold material, and rows of warm white lights twinkling all around. A Christmas tree towered in one corner, topped with a golden star, and unobtrusive festive music played gently in the background.

Only half the tables were occupied, even though it was a Saturday night — the waiter had mentioned that they were full for the whole Christmas period and this was the tail end of a little lull before all the celebrations properly got under way. Max and Miranda were only too happy to have the quiet and the space, and the speedy attention of the efficient staff. It felt a really special evening, she in her red dress from the opera performance in the caves, as requested, and he in his smartest white shirt and navy trousers.

Max reached across the table while they waited for their first course to arrive and took Miranda’s hand. “So, three months together already.”

Miranda smiled back at him. ”It’s gone so fast.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun!”

“Yeah,” she agreed with a nod; she’d had the most fun of her life with Max, even before they’d got together. “We’ve done a lot in a short space, haven’t we?”

“Travelled Andalucía on the weekends, got my old job back, started handing over and training my replacement, organised moving in with you…” Max listed. It had certainly been a busy few months.

Miranda looked nervous for a second. “Still looking forward to living with me?” she asked cautiously. She hoped she’d manage to not get too uptight about their differences once he had joined her; she’d have to learn to live with some mess and disorganisation, up to a point.

“Of course!” Max grinned, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “We have a lot to look forward to — I bet there are great things to come for us.” Unbeknownst to her, one would be coming very soon.

“Mm, Christmas first. Don’t usually bother much with it, but it’s kind of exciting doing it all with you, blending German, British, Spanish into one.” Surprisingly, she’d caught some of Max’s childlike wonder and joy for the holiday. She’d been encouraged too when it had been so easy to choose presents for him — she knew him so very well now.

Max was all boyish enthusiasm. “Yeah, we’ll make it our own! It’s going to be perfect! What’s the plan again?” Arranging the move had been more than enough for him to cope with, along with all the trips at the weekend, so the practicalities of Christmas in Palma had been taken on by his love, who was only too happy to keep something off his plate.

The famous Blake memory had it all ready. ”You arrive the twenty-second, twenty-third we go shopping, get all the food in, twenty-fourth we do German and Spanish Christmas Eve, twenty-fifth we do a British Christmas, twenty-sixth we recover. Thirty-first Christian is having us over, dinner with Inés the first, then you’re going back on the third.”

“Sounds good to me! Except the leaving you bit,” he added sadly, rubbing her hand with his thumb.

“I know, but it’s only for a couple of weeks and then you’re moving in,” she reminded him.

Max grimaced. “Those two weeks apart are going to be hard.”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” Miranda replied. She wasn’t sure she could be fonder of him though, so thoroughly in love with him was she.

Max leaned forward and looked into her eyes with a meaningful intensity. “Yeah, I’m going to want you so much it will be ridiculous,” he murmured.

Coy dimples appeared on Miranda’s cheeks. “Why do you think I’ve said no to Christian and Inés about going out that weekend? I told them both to let you get settled in…”

Max gave her an appreciative wink that sent a shiver through her. “Great thinking, ten out of ten, have a gold star,” he told her. ”All set for me to be your roomie then?”

“Yep — you know I don’t have all that much stuff anyway, but I’ve cleared out the cupboards for you and rearranged things so there’s space for your books and records.” She hoped that was sufficient; she didn’t really know how moving in together and intertwining two lives was meant to go.

Max raised himself out of his chair a little to reach across the table and give her a quick kiss. “Thank you. I can’t wait to have a home with you, Schatz.”

At this point, their first courses arrived, exquisitely dainty concoctions that Max just had to photograph to put on Instagram later. Talk turned to the finer points of the Christmas celebrations, ideas for summer holiday plans, and listing all the things they wanted to do for old times’ sake once Max had moved back, as course after delicious course came out and delighted their senses.

There was a longer pause before dessert, which Miranda was glad of for a rest — the dishes might all have been only a few mouthfuls each, but there had been a lot of them. Max had a different reason for appreciating the break.

“You know how we were saying earlier about how well things have gone since September? Well…” He swallowed down his nerves and slid out of his seat, standing to the side of their table now. He held out his hand for Miranda, nodding and smiling to encourage her to join him.

Thoroughly confused, Miranda slowly did what he wanted, but not without shooting him a puzzled glare. What was he up to, she wondered. Surely he wanted the dessert — the man had a huge sweet tooth, didn’t he? Besides, they hadn’t even handed over the gift voucher yet, or checked if there was a difference they needed to pay, so they couldn’t be leaving already, could they?

“Max, what’s going on?” she asked in a low voice, aware that a couple nearby were looking at them.

Max smiled affectionately and took her other hand in his. He cleared his throat and began the words he’d rehearsed earlier. “Miranda, I can’t imagine my life without you. You’re my compañera, my love, my goose. Will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?” He looked expectantly at her, his whole future now in her hands.

Miranda gasped. Her vision swam for a moment and her legs felt wobbly. Every little sound in the room felt magnified as adrenaline coursed through her. This was such a big deal to her, and so unexpected tonight. It was thoroughly wonderful though. She took a second to calm down, then gave the only answer she could. “Yes, yes… yes, I will,” she told him as tears formed in her eyes.

“Phew!” Max let out a chuckle of relief, before pulling Miranda towards him, lifting her hands to his shoulders and placing his own around her waist. Beaming, Max placed his lips to Miranda’s in the celebratory kiss he had hoped would follow his momentous question; this joyful embrace had been the reason he had wanted them both to be standing while he asked her to spend her life with him.

Miranda opened her eyes to see that a few other guests were watching them — they must have worked out what was going on, despite the lack of a ring or the clichéd going down on one knee. She suddenly felt a little self-conscious. Pulling away, she whispered to her fiancé. “Cool it until later! People are looking.”

Max laughed; he didn’t care. He knew that Miranda did though, so he let her go and they both quickly returned to their seats.

“I hope it’s ok I didn’t get a ring yet,” Max apologised. “I know you like to take your time with a big purchase and really research it, and if you’re wearing it for the rest of your life you’ll want to be sure about it, ja?”

Miranda was more than happy with his thinking. She couldn’t imagine making something part of her daily apparel without getting to select it herself and try it out first. “Thank you. That’s really good, actually,” she told him with sincerity.

“Great, we’ll have some extra shopping to do when I come to Palma. It’ll be fun to pick one together.” And good to take some of the pressure of a wrong decision off himself too, he thought.

“Yes, we do everything together, don’t we?” How quickly they had blended their lives, and how very comfortable she was with it all, she realised.

“We definitely do now! We’re a team.”

Miranda cocked her head as she considered this. “Team Mirax, or Wintake — that’s what couples do now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I quite like both of those.” He sat back and sighed happily. “This might be the best day of my life so far, you know. Easily top five — and the other four all involve you too, of course.”

“Same for me: today and the day you turned up at my door. I almost can’t believe it,” Miranda confided. “Engaged — me!” She’d never really expected it to happen to her, not until Max had mentioned the idea during their first week as a couple, and since then they hadn’t discussed it. She’d imagined it would be a fair way down the line, but she was honestly glad he’d taken the initiative earlier.

Max grinned broadly. ”You’d better believe it — I’m here to stay! You and me for the rest of our lives, Schatz.”

“Sounds perfect.” She thought ahead to the next stage after him moving in. “So, we have some planning to do… I don’t want a big fuss of a wedding though.”

Max’s face fell. “Oh, I kind of do — big party with all our favourite people?” He looked hopefully at his bride-to-be.

“Compromise — small ceremony, bigger reception?” she suggested. She could cope with that combination; having a lot of people at the ceremony would be too much for her for such an intimate occasion, and a couple of glasses of sparkling wine would calm her nerves for the later part of the day.

Max was delighted. “Deal,” he accepted readily. “Can I be in charge of sorting out the food and music?”

“If I can be in charge of the budget and the spreadsheet,” Miranda put to him. She felt a guiding hand and a head for figures looking over this big celebration he wanted would be sensible.

Max extended his hand. “We have ourselves another deal. We’re pretty good at this, aren’t we?” he said happily as they shook on it.

“We’ve had enough time trying to figure out how to be partners.”

“Yeah, I think we’ve got life together all sorted out.” He fully believed that. Everything was going their way, ever since that lonely Friday night in his apartment when everything had changed for him.

…

An idea struck Max as they headed back out into the chill night. He steered them both along a slightly different route to the one they had taken earlier, and soon they arrived in the plaza next to the cathedral, where they had danced together that sultry summer night a few months ago. Unlike that warm evening, the tables outside the bars and restaurants were empty and there was no music playing. A breeze coming down off the mountains had ensured that nobody wanted to linger out in the open.

Max halted, pulling Miranda back by the hand. ”Let’s stop here for a minute,” he suggested, deciding that it wasn’t cold enough yet to deter him from what he had in mind.

Miranda frowned. ”Ok, what for?” Surely not another one of his surprises.

There was a gleam in Max’s eye. “Dancing! But this time with a proper, uninterrupted kiss and no awkward rushing off.”

“Here?” Miranda queried, looking around to check if they could be seen.

“Sure! Everyone’s indoors, so this is our private dance floor,” he replied. Dropping her hand he fiddled about with his phone to find the song he was looking for. “Here we go. This is the song I played when I was driving back to you,” he explained, offering Miranda an earbud.

She put the headphone in her ear as ‘All or Nothing’ by Wild Youth began. Smiling at the memories of how she’d had no idea he was travelling back to her, and of the wondrous reunion that followed it, she placed her hands lightly on his shoulders.

Max moved them both to the music, swaying to the beat and spinning them round at each chorus, crescendoing with dips and lifts that made Miranda giggle and forget that anyone might see them. She didn’t care any more — the sweet Málaga wine she’d had with dessert had given her a pleasant buzz by now and joy had chased her inhibitions away.

“Ok, a slower one now,” Max announced as he put on ‘No Ordinary’ by Labrinth and replaced the phone in his pocket.

He opened his jacket to allow Miranda to nestle against his warm chest. She settled in and he wrapped her up, cradling her, his precious love. Together they slowly twirled and stepped around their corner of the deserted plaza, two fiancés lost in each other in the crisp, dark night.

This second song had taken over from the previous one as Max’s theme for his feelings for Miranda soon after they had got together. He’d played it on repeat for a large part of his journey back from Palma, reminding himself that they would still be just as in love hundreds of kilometres apart — it was too powerful a force for distance to disrupt.

“Oh this, no ordi-nary love, yeah,” he sang to her in his accomplished baritone. “Your kiss, a sky full of stars, mmm-mm. Now I’ve got a purpose, I’ve got a reason, a four letter word gives me a whole new meaning, meaning.” He lifted Miranda’s chin to bring her up for a long kiss beneath the clear night.

With the song coming to a euphoric end, Miranda had a request. She didn’t want to stop yet. “One more? ‘Quietly Yours’ by Birdy? I played it quite a bit this summer when I wanted to torture myself, hopelessly fantasising that you’d come back to me.”

“And then I did.” Max was touched to hear her open up more about just how long and how badly she’d wanted him. He put the song on, then held her in tight again, his eyes shut as he listened to the lyrics she must know so well now.

“I’ve always been yours, only yours,” Miranda sang softly to him. She moved her hand down from his shoulder onto his chest, just the fabric of his shirt separating her palm from his skin. “Quietly yours. Only yours.”

Max’s eyes pricked with tears, thinking about all that time she’d yearned for him and kept a scintilla of hope alive in her heart. She’d been waiting for him, long before he’d even left Palma. What patient pain she must have gone through for him, wishing this summer that she could be as optimistic as the song she pined to. He would be adding this beautiful number to his ‘Miranda’ playlist, a reminder of how far they had come and how well everything had gone for them after all.

As the song faded, Max blinked away the moisture in his eyes, pulled the earbuds out of both their ears and deposited them in his jacket pocket. He kissed Miranda’s forehead tenderly.

“Shall we go to bed, almost-wife?” he whispered in her ear.

Miranda smiled and looked up at him, both of them aglow in this moment with their deep, abiding love. “Let’s go, almost-husband.”

Hand-in-hand, they walked the quiet December streets back to Max’s apartment, smiling and giggling as they went, both thinking that despite the time apart, it had turned out to be easily the best year of their lives. So far, anyway; they had a feeling things would keep getting better and better for them.