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She laughed. “My siblings are going to love you.”
Shame it’s not their love that interests me.“I am a pretty loveable guy,” I said. “But I’ll try and downplay it until we see how they react to your news. That way, if they take it badly, I can distract their focus by being a horrible date.”
“You couldn’t be a horrible date if you tried.”
“It pleases me that you think no evidence to the contrary exists.” Her bright laugh made my chest ache just as Max burst through the front door. “I better go. My brother’s just eaten half a pack of cigarettes, and if the look on his face is any indication, I need to be ready to listen fast.”
“I’m sorry I won’t get to meet him,” she said. “Maybe another time.”
The suggestion filled me with dread, but it was so unlikely it wasn’t worth mentioning. “See you Friday,” I said. “Looking forward to it.” I hung up as Max slid into the chair across from me, the smokey stench that clung to him assaulting me from across the table. “Everything okay?”
“Not really,” he said. “The fact that my wife will take my agent’s calls and not mine makes me feel like I’m living in a fucking nanny state.”
“Can I be honest?” I asked, searching his strained expression.
“Go on.”
“Whatever you’re dealing with right now, you’ve put everyone through a lot worse.”
“Thanks for that.”
“It’s the truth,” I said. “But keep working through it. The only way out is through.”
He looked at me like he was trying to decide whether he should punch me in the face before dropping his eyes to his menu. “I know you’re right. It’s just harder than I thought.”
“What is?”
“Sobriety.”
I laughed.
He lifted his gaze. “That wasn’t meant to be a joke.”
“It’ll get easier,” I said, biting back a smile. “And it’ll be worth it.”
“Plus, the alternative is grim city.”
“That, too.”
“So what about you?” he asked, turning the plastic-covered pages of the diner menu until he got to the lunch specials. “You seeing someone these days? Otis brought me a present this morning that looked a lot like a shred of women’s underwear.”
“Mmm.”
“Talk to me,” he said. “I want to know what’s going on with you.”
“No, you don’t. You want stories for daytime television.”
“That’s not fair. I never tell the truth about you on TV.”
I scoffed. “Fair point.”
“Is it serious?”
Tough question. “Define ‘serious.’”
“Do you love her?”
The questions stung like a sharp pinch. “That’s irrelevant. Even if I did, she’d never see me as more than a friend with benefits.”
