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“Why didn’t you offer to take her to the dance?”
“Because I was afraid she’d say no.”
She claps her hands once, smiling triumphantly. Well, hell. Looks like I know nothing, indeed. This is a skill that only Mom possesses—making me feel smarter and dumber at the same time.
I open my mouth and close it again, but I’m saved from answering by Christopher, who just burst through the door, holding bags with take-out food.
“Found Chinese food two blocks away,” he informs me, pointing to the tray of hospital food the nurse left next to my bed a while ago. I took one spoonful of that stuff and almost gagged.
“Give it here. I’m starving.”
“I’ll leave you two boys, then,” Mom says, rising from my bed. “Max, should I call the nurse? Do you need anything?”
“Nah, I’m all right.”
She gives me a knowing look before leaving the room.
“Did you buy that for you or for me?” I ask Christopher, who’s helping himself to my take-out box.
“Just doing some quality control,” he says through a mouthful, handing me the box. “By the way, you have the look of someone who got Mom slammed.”
“Shut up. I can kick you out of the room even with a fucked-up leg.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Emilia
My stomach is in knots all the way to the hospital and on the elevator ride to Max’s floor. When we reach the door to the room he’s in, I’m surprised to only see Mrs. Bennett and Christopher standing in front of it.
“Mom kicked out everyone else earlier,” Alice informs me. “It was getting too crowded.”
Mrs. Bennett smiles warmly, and something in her expression tells me she’s up-to-date with everything that happened between Max and me.
“How is Max?” I ask the two of them.
“He’s had better days,” Mrs. Bennett says, “but he’s all right.”
“I think you’ll finally agree with me that I’m the better looking one,” Christopher says with a wink. Alice elbows him in the ribs, giving him the stink eye.
“He’s not sleeping, is he?” Suddenly I’m apprehensive to see him, the space between my shoulder blades tightening almost painfully.
“No,” Mrs. Bennett answers.
Taking a deep breath, I clasp my fingers around the handle to his door, pushing it open. My heart stills when I see him lying in bed, the side of his face purple with bruises and one leg bandaged. Oh God, he must be in so much pain. Closing the door behind me, I stand at the foot of the bed, unsure what to say, where to begin.
“Christopher’s right. He is the better looking one of the two of you today,” I blurt out.
“Bad ice breaker, Jonesie.” Max lifts up the corner of his lips on the unbruised side of his face. Right, if he can smirk, then he’s definitely not in too much pain.
“What were you expecting?” I ask, pacing the room. I’m in a dilemma. Part of me is still pissed for what he said, and the other part wants to climb in the bed next to him and kiss the living daylights out of him.
“Something along the lines of making me apologize for talking shit, and then you apologizing for pushing me away, and promising you’ll never do it aga
in. I’ll start. I’m sorry for what I said. I really didn’t mean it.”
My throat stings as I whisper, “Max, I’m sorry too, for pushing you away.”
“Say that again, and add the I’ll never do it again part.” He cocks an eyebrow. “That’s very important.”
