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“That was fun!” Alison squealed excitedly after we headed out of Victor's gym as she drove us to the wine bar for a drink before our scheduled dinner.
“It really was. When is our next session?” Jamie asked from the backseat.
“Whenever we want, actually. We just have to make sure Victor's schedule is free, and we can book him.” I answered.
“I'm guessing Alison wouldn’t mind “booking” him for a night session.” Jamie teased before bursting into contagious laughter.
“What?” Alison shouted, clearly faking her shock.
“Oh, come on. You can't possibly think we didn't notice. Right, Fran?” Jamie replied as she leaned between the two front seats.
“Totally. You were kind of drooling, actually. I might have rolled over some of your spit during one of the exercises.” The both of us couldn’t stop giggling, and Alison soon chimed in with her own fit.
“Okay, okay. I can't say I wouldn't consider… I would probably climb him until I got vertigo. And you would, too, if you weren’t so in love.” She faked nausea at the word. “But… bad timing.”
“What do you mean, bad timing?” I asked, picking up on her uneasiness as we stepped out of the car and settled into our seats on the cute patio of the wine house.
Max was like a shadow around me, not leaving my side for a single second, but he kept a safe distance on these girl dates.
“I might have done something stupid on Friday.” She admitted, looking over her shoulder, whispering so no one besides us would hear. Her smile had turned into a grimace as if she had just bitten into a very sour lemon.
“I’m almost scared to ask, but Alison Battaglia, what did you do?” Jamie tried using a stern tone that didn’t quite fit her tender little self, reminding me of my mother. The first and last name in the same sentence meant nothing but big trouble, but paired with those doe eyes and the personality of Bambi himself, it was hard to take it seriously.
“Shhh…keep it down. I... I might have slept with Jackson!”
“WHAT???” Both Jamie and I shouted in unison. “How the hell does one “might have slept” with a guy?” I finished, my voice coming out a little too loud.
Max snapped his head towards us, his jaw getting caught in a clench that didn’t give.
“Okay! Don't beat me up so much about it, moms. I slept with him.”
“You know your brothers can't ever know about this, right?” Jamie reminded her.
“Of course not! What do you think I am? Suicidal? That’s why Maxy over there can’t hear this.”
I was pretty sure there was more than one reason why Max shouldn’t hear it, but I figured he already had. His eyes had morphed into an icier shade of blue, his expression a forced blank that spoke of a dying soul. I might not know him all that well, but I’d puzzled the pieces he tried to hide.
“I might be seeing him again tonight.” She confessed, her tone purposefully hushed.
“Okay, she's lost it!” Jamie exhaled.
“They don't have to know. Besides, it’s not like we’re dating or anything. We’re just having fun. He's hot, I've always had a crush on him, and third, why fucking not? Oh shit, is it weird because you two… you know?”
“No, it's not weird.” I chuckled. “So you’re worried if it’s weird because we had a thing, but you don’t care that your brothers hate his guts?”
“Matt just needs to get his head out of his ass. What happened between them was ugly, I know, but I believe Jackson's heart wasn't entirely in the wrong place. He acted irrationally and totally without solid proof of anything but so did Matt last night. It's not comparable nor admissible, but it's understandable.” Alison explained shrugging, and she did have a point.
“And how are you meeting him tonight? Family dinner at Fran’s house, remember?” Jamie asked, suddenly pausing in shock. “Don’t tell me you’re bringing him!”
“NO! Are you insane? Of course not. He’s my dirty little secret.” She laughed, that giggle of hers so contagious it always caught us, too.
We sat there chatting for a while before each of us headed home for a well-deserved shower before getting ready for our little gathering later tonight.
“Maxi-Max, remember that whatever you heard here today is none of my brother’s business. Okay?” Alison said to Max, her hand brushing against his blondish beard.
“Sure, Miss Battaglia. I didn’t hear anything anyway.” I highly doubted that. By the stiffness in his muscles and the hand snuggly hidden under his jacket, I could bet a kidney that his finger was already on the trigger. Only his target wasn’t here.
“It’s Alison, Max. I’ve told you already.”
