He gathers his tools, tossing them into an older bag.
“Where did you get those?” I ask.
“Borrowed them from a plumber,” he says. “I had to promise I’d bring them back.”
I blink. “He just let you take them?”
Max shrugs. “I was convincing.”
I laugh. “Well, thank you. Really. Let me know if I can pay you or?—”
He waves me off. “No need. If my sister was in your situation, I’d hope someone would help her too. And I seem to remember someone saying I should pay it forward.
He winks and I’m grateful I’m sitting down.
It takes a few extra seconds for what he said to catch up. I’m getting mixed signals. Not that I should be anything else in his eyes, but a sister? I had hoped we were more in the territory of friends at this point.
I debate whether to let it go and decide against it. I’d rather not be up all hours of the night.
“So, you give me your phone number and then call me your sister? I mean, I’ve never had a brother, but I don’t think I’d want to classify you that way.”
Max’s expression is full of terror. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. It came out all wrong.” He leans over and rubs his face with both hands before focusing on me again. “I have a sister, Georgina, and I just meant that I would want someone to take care of her if she were in this situation.”
I give him a half-smile and say, “Is that what you’re trying to do? Take care of me?”
His smile is soft, pulling the tension around us. “I take care of the important people in my life. You kind of stumbled into mine, but I’m grateful.” There’s a long pause before he says, “And I don’t think of you as a sister, at all.”
We both laugh, and it’s somewhat cathartic after the past few days.
“Thank you,” I say again, softer this time. I glance at his lips, wondering what they would feel like against my own.
He glances down at his phone, where the screen is lit up with an area code I’m not familiar with. “I need to take this.”
“No problem.”
“Hello, this is Max,” he says as he walks out of the apartment with the tool bag in his hand.
I stand there for a moment, unsure what to make of him.
At least he clarified how he thinks of me. I don’t think of him as a brother either.
17
MAX
Ishouldn’t care whether her coffee shop succeeds.
But I do.
I won’t even be here that long.
And yet…something in her voice made me want to help with more than just the sink. She wasn’t pleading or begging for help. More like speaking her thoughts out loud.
Having a good team to help brainstorm and troubleshoot has been one of the most important parts of my business model. She probably needs some of that.
The question is, do I wait until she texts me and we go out? Or do I try to offer to help again the next time I see her?
I’m getting ahead of myself again.
