“My brother went to a boarding school, too.” The detail left my lips without forethought.
“Oh yeah? Which one?”
“Franconia.”
Max laughed. “That one is alotbetter than the school I went to.”
“It’s a good one.” I hoped my tone didn’t reveal the hint of bitterness I still felt about it. The rejection letter I got from Franconia seventeen years ago flashed through my brain like an intrusive thought. I didn’t think about it as often these days as I did during school, but for years that letter was what drove me—to get the best grades, go to the best law school I could, and then work at the most prestigious firm.
“I’m sure he’s a great guy. I’d love to meet him.”
“He’s going to try to visit this summer. But he’s a professor, so I’m not sure. You’d think they get the summers off, but he says the summers are when he gets all his research and writing done.”
“Makes sense. So, a lawyer and a professor, your parents must be thrilled.”
“I think so. But I think they’ve always been proud of us, honestly.” Spending time with Luke and Luna had me thinking about parenting a lot more than I ever had before. It was hard to articulate the subtle difference between the pressure some parents put on their children and the inspiration and encouragement my parents instilled in us. I wanted to succeed and make them proud, but it came from a place of desire, not fear.
Max nodded and took a sip of his coffee.
I followed suit, taking my first sip of the morning. It was the richest, smoothest black coffee I’d ever tasted. “Mmm,” I hummed. “This coffee is so good. I’m surprised we even met that day at Behind the Bookstore. Why would you get a coffee there when you have this at home?” I swirled my cup.
He popped one shoulder up. “Something to do, get out of the house. Good thing I did.” He reached for my hand on the table, rubbing circles on my palm with his thumb. “When I saw you at that café I thought—that’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. I almost walked past you but then I said to myself, you’ll regret not at least finding out if she’s single.”
“Hmm.” I was skeptical those were theexactwords that floated through his mind. “I don’t know about that.”
“Learn to take a compliment, Val. There’s more where that came from.”
His smug grin had me smiling too.
“Oh, you think you’re so charming, don’t you?” I teased.
He shrugged one shoulder, smug grin maintained. “Well, kinda, yeah.”
I shook my head and leaned over and kissed him. He rested his hand on my bare thigh under the table and took another lazy sip of his coffee.
I thought about that day, and it dawned on me—I was writing my short story when he walked up to me. This was my chance to tell him.
“You know what I was doing that day when you approached me?” I asked, leading.
“You said you were working on a project?”
“Yes. But I was already on the leave of absence, so it wasn’t a work project. I was writing.”Why is my heart rate climbing?
“Oh yeah? What were you writing, an article?”
“No, actually. A short story, which is now more of a novel. I found this prompt online that resonated with me. I’ve always loved books and reading, had always thought about writing my own stories. And now I have the time to do it, so I figured, why not?”
I searched his face for his reaction, hoping his confidence in my legal skills extended to my potential as a writer. Maybe he’d even offer for me to talk to his dad about it.
“That’s cool. Writing is a fun hobby.”
The wordhobbylanded like a blow.
What if I didn’t want it to just be a hobby?
“It’s your dad’s career,” I argued without thinking.
“I know, but that’s him.” His blue eyes shone with mirth.
