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“Do you even know what incest is? Because two people unrelated by blood is not incest.”
“I know what incest means, thank you very much. I just firmly believe that you shouldn’t be having sex with anyone whose relationship to you involves the word ‘brother.’”
Just then, the server reappeared with our meals, and I knew that the tint of red on Maxine’s cheeks matched my own. Conversations about incest are not something you want a stranger to overhear. If she had heard anything, she wasn’t displaying any of the appropriate levels of horror or interest. I hoped that meant we wouldn’t be the topic of conversation in the break room later.
Undeterred, Maxine pointed a fry at me.
“He’s not your brother-in-law. He’s Sissy’s brother-in-law. He’s not any actual relation to you at all, not by blood or marriage or adoption or choice. Would you, though, if you weren’t so hung up on the whole incest angle?”
“Would I what?”
“Would you have sex with him? Or want to have sex with him?”
The question made me pause mid-bite. The idea of having sex with Holden was so, so...what was it? Foreign and unsettling and exciting. I chewed the greasy cheeseburger goodness while I thought over Max’s question.
Finally, I said, “I honestly don’t know. He’s definitely attractive. I guess I’ve just never thought of him that way. It’s hard to explain the St. James family to people who didn’t grow up in the area. They’re larger than life, almost royalty. Holden went to some fancy private school in a different county, so I rarely even saw him growing up. The only reason I had a crush on Macon was because he went to the local school. Holden just gave off a whole other level of unattainable vibes.”
“Prince Harry’s unattainable too, but that hasn’t stopped me from imagining what it would be like to f —”
“It would feel like cheating,” I blurted, cutting Maxine off. “Having sex with Holden would feel like cheating on Macon, and I don’t know why. That’s weird, right? I would be cheating on my high school crush who cheated with my sister and is now marrying her.”
“Yeah, that’s definitely weird.”
“Thanks for sugarcoating it.” I sighed, quietly acknowledging that she was right. “You know what else is weird? I don’t feel like either of them are who I thought they were.”
“Go on...” Maxine prompted.
“It’s just that, after dinner with Holden the other night I feel like I might have made some wrong assumptions about him. And I’m getting the impression that Macon might not be the golden boy I made him out to be, either. Well, the entire female population of Beacon Hill made him out to be.”
“Ya think? What was your first clue? The fact that he cheated on his long-time girlfriend with your evil sister? Or that he is now engaged to said evil sister?”
“Everybody makes mistakes!” I still felt the need to defend my dream version of Macon. “And I never found out how the cheating situation actually happened. She could have taken advantage of him while he was in a vulnerable state or something.”
“In a vulnerable state?” Max repeated, imitating my Southern accent. “Well, I do believe your Southern belle is coming through, Miss Buchanan. I assume by ‘vulnerable’ you mean overindulged, and I didn’t know that being in one’s cups excused cheating.”
“Of course being drunk isn’t an excuse! It’s just not as bad as cheating sober.” I cringed; that sounded bad even to me. “If further evidence suggests I was wrong about either brother, or even both of them, I’m willing to admit it.”
“I hope ‘further evidence’ is code for sex.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.
“I don’t understand what sex has to do with this.”
“What better way to get to know someone than by having sex with them?” Maxine argued, taking a suspiciously suggestive sip of milkshake through her straw. The crazy thing was, I was pretty sure she was being one hundred percent serious.
“Uh, talking to them seems like a better, less messy way.”
“Mmmm, but my way is so much more fun.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that one, so I decided to change the subject. “Well, you’ll be able to form your own opinions about the whole St. James family soon, since I assume they’re all going to be at this gala.” I thought about Maxine’s quest to find a wealthy husband and added, “Make sure you check with me before you home in on your target at the gala. I don’t want you to become Grandaddy St. James’s new sugar baby.”
“Whatever happens, happens.” Max shrugged. “I can’t be responsible for any fallout my new dress may cause, but I promise to try to use my powers for good.”
“Great, that’s a real comfort.”
We spent the rest of lunch talking about work and some of the worst online dating profiles Max had found this week. By the time I made it home, my stomach was as stuffed as the shopping bags that filled both my hands. Max was a more effective salesperson then the actual salespeople. I had no regrets, though. All in all, it had been a good day.
I stepped off the elevator — there was no way I was taking the stairs loaded down with all those bags — and came to an abrupt stop a few feet from my apartment. Sitting on the floor in front of my door was what looked like a large bouquet of vegetables.
“What the what?” I mumbled, walking to the door and setting down all the bags. I bent down to retrieve the note, which was fixed to the bouquet by a plastic stand. In neatly printed letters, it read:
