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His eyes remain narrowed, and I soon realize he isn’t joking. I bark out a shocked, humorless laugh. “In your dreams! I am not apologizing to you. Not now, not ever. For anything. Besides, you were basically squatting!”
Although his narrowed eyes don’t ease, his lips twitch. It’s then I notice how everyone around us is listening in on our non-argument.
They’re all grinning.
All of them.
Nat quickly excuses herself, claiming the need to organize things in the kitchen, and pulls me along with her. She drags me so fast I’m all but running. As soon as we hit the kitchen, she whisper hisses, “What the heck was that about?”
Searching the cupboards, I take out the dinner plates and set them on the counter. I answer quietly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She moves to stand in front of me. “No. You don’t get to cut me out. Why are you so angry at Max?”
My shoulders lift in a casual it’s-not-a-big-deal shrug. “I just don’t really like him, is all.”
A look of shock settles over her features. “What? Why?”
I move to open the napkins. “He’s a total flirt. I hate that.”
She watches me closely for a moment before responding, “He’s a single guy. A good guy. And an even better dad. He’s allowed to flirt, Lena.”
Folding napkins and placing them on each plate, I mutter, “I bet he’s got a string of women he’s leading on right now.” The more I think about it, the testier I become. I start slapping folded napkins onto plates. Nat makes a choked noise and I look up to see her wide-eyed but tight-lipped. My brows bunch. “He does, doesn’t he?”
Those poor, stupid, defenseless women. Stupid, stupid women.
Her face turns expressionless. “It’s not your business, and not my business to tell.” To me, that automatically confirms my suspicions. But Nat quickly adds, “You think a man like him—the man you’re insinuating he is—could raise a beautiful little girl like Ceecee by being such a jerk?”
I pause mid-step. I hadn’t really thought of Max as a dad in my vendetta against him. And Ceecee is truly a remarkable young woman. Part of me wants to believe he’s a good guy. I mean, I used to think he was a good guy, but I was clearly blinded by my being smitten with him. Now those feelings are gone.
And you’re bitter.
Am not.
Yeah, ya are.
Suddenly, I feel a bit like a hole—of the ass variety.
“I’m not saying he’s not a good dad…”
Nat quickly returns, “Just not a good guy.”
Well, when you put it like that, of course it’s going to sound dickish.
She takes the plates and napkins, and moves to stand directly in front of me. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but Max is one my best friends. If you got issues with him, ones that aren’t even issues at all, you got issues with me.” My cheeks heat at her firm telling off. She goes on, “I know he’s a little flirty, but he’s a great guy. He’s generous, and funny, and kind, and thoughtful. He’s one of the good guys.” She looks me in the eye. “Shit, he’d give the shirt off his back for someone who needed it!”
I roll my eyes at the clear over-exaggeration, and she begins to walk away. Leaving the kitchen, she turns back around to me. My heart clenches when I spot disappointment in her eyes. Lowering her voice, she utters, “I’ve seen him do it.”
My throat thickens in shame. Sometimes it’s hard to swallow your own bullshit. My heart sinks, and I suddenly wish I could go home. Before I can think too hard about what Nat said, I step back into the living area, wringing my hands together. “Guys, I’m so sorry, but I’m suddenly not feeling the best.”
To my absolute horror, Max is the first to approach me. He stands a foot away from me, searching my face. He mutters, “Lookin’ a bit pale there.” As if there is no other option in his mind, he places his hand on my shoulder and says, “C’mon. I’ll walk you home.”
That shame I felt before? It floods my system.
Oh God. You’re an asshole. It’s a little too much at this moment. I step away and look to the ground. “No, stay. It’s just next-door. I’ll be fine.”
Nat comes at me from the side and lies for me. “Oh, honey, you said you weren’t feeling great before, but I didn’t think it was that bad.” She hugs me and whispers, “It’s okay. Go home and rest up.”
I mumble back, “I’m sorry I’m being a dickhead tonight. I think I’m just overwhelmed.”
