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So far, his mother had dropped over once a day. She was always bringing us stuff, like jam she’d found in the grocery store she thought he would like. She’d realized that I didn’t have enough socks and brought some over. I’d kind of loved the attention, but I was probably desperate to be mothered, and shewasn’t mine anyway. Who was I to say what too much of a good thing was for Max?
“Then why didn’t you? Open here? Why choose New York City?”
He grinned. “Ego.”
“What?” I didn’t know how ego played into business management.
“I went from culinary school to working in kitchens in Manhattan. Feels a little bit like the center of the universe there, sometimes. And I wanted to make it there. Like the song or whatever. I wanted to be a hit there.”
I squeezed his hand. “You did that. How is it going, by the way? Anna still okay?”
“Anna is loving life, and I’m pretty sure the staff prefers me being away too. Eric came back yesterday to work a little bit. He cooked for an hour and then went home. Huge moment.”
So something I did had made a big difference. I’d helped to make that happen, in a small way. “That is incredible.”
Do you need to go back?I almost asked him the question aloud, but then I didn’t. He’d just tell me to worry about recovery. I didn’t have to keep questioning him about things when I knew what his answer would be before he gave it, even if the answer was somewhat dissatisfying.
We headed back to his home together in the car, mostly talking about nothing important. It would have been a perfect moment, if I didn’t have a million things to say to him that I just didn’t feel like I could. A minefield of things remained unsaid, and if I swayed at all in the wrong direction, I might explode the ease we pretended to have with one another. Well, an ease that included really hot sex that kept popping up here and there.
Like on the kitchen table that morning.
Or maybe it was just me pretending. Maybe Max really was content in our current setup. In this…pattern of whatever it waswe were doing, because friends really didn’t behave like this. Not really.
I was afraid I’d already plummeted into a problem because I was pretty sure I was in love with him. Pathetically in love with a man who said he wasn’t interested in love. Was this a thing with my family? Layla had done the same thing, the only difference was Zeke already really loved Layla. He’d made a terrible mistake when he’d hurt her, but he’d fixed it, in a big way, and spent a lot of time proving his feelings to my sister. I just couldn’t see Max doing that.
Zeke had been so used to feeling lonely, he’d thought he had to stay that way forever. Or at least that was how Layla described it. I wasn’t sure why Max continued to give me so much attention if he didn’t love me, but it was clear he wasn’t lonely.
He had friends and family to fill his life anytime he wanted and the ability to scuttle off to be by himself, if he preferred solitude.
When we took another walk together to look at the leaves that afternoon, I let myself pretend for just a bit that we were happy and we could do this kind of thing together forever. Pretending was only going to make my heart hurt more later, yet I couldn’t bring myself to break out of the bubble of illusions. Not yet.
Right then, I could breathe. I had no need to lock and unlock his doors over and over at night. It had never been a problem for me in other people’s houses, only my own space, and that meant that I didn’t really feel at home there yet.
When that changed, I’d have to acknowledge it was time for me to speak up.
I made deals like that with myself all the time.
How many times I locked the door was how I judged if I needed help or not.
How many times I cried…how many calories I ate…how many times I went to the gym. Did other people live like this, or was this just my own brand of cray-cray that I hid from the world?
It didn’t really matter, because I fell asleep that night pressed against him as we watched a movie together. I might have stayed like that all night if he hadn’t gotten hit with another nightmare.
He woke easily when I said his name. He jolted to awareness, then placed his head in his hands for a good thirty seconds before he would speak to me. Eventually, he did. “Thanks.”
“Are you okay?” I sat up so that we’d be more face-to-face, and the blanket slipped down a little bit. I had to pull it back because it was cold in the room. In the week we’d been there, it was getting significantly colder in Maine.
He nodded. “Yep. The nightmares are back, and I really hoped they were gone. If it keeps up, I’ll call the doctor and do something about them again. Sorry I keep waking you up.”
I touched his arm. “Don’t worry about me, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Yep.” He got out of bed. “Go back to sleep. I’m going to do some stuff for a while, and I might sleep in the guest room if I sleep at all so I don’t keep you up.”
The idea filled me with coldness that had nothing to do with the room. “Don’t do that. I mean, get up if you want to, but come back here. I’ll sleep in the guest room before you will. This is your house.”
He rubbed his eyes. “You sure? You need more rest than me. You’re healing.”
I was pretty sure I wasn’t the only one healing, but his wounds were more internal at the moment. Not that I had any intention of saying that right then. “I’m sure.”
