by Julia London
Carly nearly choked on the large sip of wine she’d just taken. Under the table, Max put his hand on her knee and squeezed.
Her mother stared coolly at Max. She didn’t like that explanation, which, Carly guessed, was why Max had given it to her like that. She’d wanted Max to back her up, to agree that, yes, sometimes you just know, and since a brain scientist said it, it made it all right. But Max wasn’t going to hand this to her, and Carly thought she might possibly love him for it.
Her mother pursed her lips. “Well, I’m sure there is something to what you say, but what I mean is that sometimes you meet someone, and you just know he is your person. Toby is my person.”
Oof. Her mother was watching The Bachelor again.
“And Evelyn is mine,” Mr. Sheffington added, clearly delighted by the notion. Mr. Sheffington had been watching The Bachelor, too, apparently.
“I thought Mom was your person,” Max said calmly.
“Well, she was, Max,” his father said. “But she’s gone and life moves on and I’ve got more to give.”
Max put down his fork, folded his arms against the table, and asked, “So . . . what exactly are we saying, here?”
“We are saying that we are going to Vegas to tie the knot,” Carly’s mother announced grandly, and beamed at Toby.
“Loyal Dad. Intelligent and loyal Dad,” Jamie said. He was beginning to rock a little in his seat.
“Loyal Jamie,” Max said, and Jamie looked at him as if finally someone was speaking his language.
“That seems a little rash,” Carly said. “Is there any reason you can’t get to know each other a little longer before making it until death do you part?”
“Rash?” her mother said, slicing a warning look at Carly. “It’s not rash, not at our age.”
“But you hardly know each other,” Carly pointed out.
“Well, we think we know what we need to know, Carly,” her mother said.
“Dad?” Max asked, looking for confirmation.
Mr. Sheffington looked at Evelyn. He smiled. “We’re not going tomorrow, Max.”
“But you’re going,” Max said flatly.
“We need to settle a few things first.”
Carly’s mother grinned. She’d won this round.
Mr. Sheffington picked up his fork. “Tell me about the fashion guy, Carly. I hear he’s very odd.”
Who knew what her mother had said? “He’s a creative genius, actually,” she said, and grudgingly did her best to talk about Victor’s design work, when that was the furthest thing from her mind.
She didn’t know how she got through the rest of that evening. Her head was spinning with disbelief, and every time she looked at Max, her heart ached. He was subdued, his expression unusually dark. When Jamie disappeared to his room with Hazel, she stood and said, “Thank you for dinner, Mr. Sheffington. I’ve got an early start tomorrow so I should probably go.”
“Oh good, you can give me a ride,” her mother trilled.
Her mother lived well out of Carly’s way, which would add thirty minutes to her drive home. “Oh. How’d you get here?”
“I took a Lyft, my love! That’s what everyone is doing now. No one wants to drive in Austin traffic.” Except that she was happy to make Carly do it.
The worst of it was she didn’t get to say goodbye to Max. She could only give him a meaningful look and a tense smile, and he touched her hand and smiled in a way that if she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he’d just suffered a great loss.
Her mother talked incessantly all the way home and would not allow Carly to squeeze more than a word or two in edgewise. Carly knew that trick—her mother was filling all the available space and air with her words to avoid Carly’s questions.
After she’d dropped her mother off, she called Mia. “Mom is getting married,” she blurted.
“So I heard.”
“You heard and you didn’t tell me?”
“I just found out.”
“What are we going to do, Mia?” Carly exclaimed.
“Will said it’s her life to live as she wants.”
“Yes, it’s her life, and she is free to ruin Mr. Sheffington’s life, too, I guess, because you know that’s what she’ll do. I don’t know why she is so hell-bent on getting married, but she will make that poor man as miserable as she made Dad.”
“Don’t say that!” Mia cried. “Dad loved her, and, if you ask me, he still does. Frankly, I am a little surprised by this. I thought they would get back together. I mean, they still talk all the time—”
“They talk to jerk each other’s chains.”
“I know, but I thought that was like, you know, their love language. If you ask me, Dad started dating that girl just to make Mom crazy.”
“Mom is crazy, Mia.”
“Carly.” Mia suddenly sounded calm and collected. Motherly. “I can’t explain it, but Mom seems happy with this man. And there is nothing we can do about it, is there? You just have to accept it.”
Mia was right, of course. Carly could not stop the crazy train of her mother’s life. And honestly? A few weeks ago she would have said great, Mom, have at it. She would have been delighted if some gentleman had come along and taken her mother off the market. But did it have to be that one? Did it have to be Max’s father?
She finished her phone call with Mia just as she reached her house. When she pulled into the drive, it was dark, but she could see Conrad on his back porch, could see him rise and wave at her. She gassed it a little and hurried down the drive and bolted into the house. Once she was safely inside, she dropped her bag on the floor and walked into her living room. She felt heavy. Weighed down. She kicked off her shoes and fell onto the couch, facedown. She heard the click of dog nails against the wood floors and a moment later, Baxter appeared, having come out of his corner in the kitchen. “Hi, Baxter,” she said sadly, and rolled onto her side. After a couple of starts, Baxter climbed onto the couch, and even though there was no room for him, he draped his body over Carly.
“Oof,” she said. “You’re too fat, Baxter.” But she turned to her side and wrapped her arms around his warm, stinky body and buried her face in his fur. “I love you, too.”
She and Baxter lay like that for some time, her eyes closed as she mindlessly stroked Baxter’s fur, her thoughts drifting over the events of the last few weeks, of the strange space she found herself now. Baxter was content to lie like a sack of potatoes, sighing occasionally, and once almost knocking them both off the couch when he had a sudden itch that required the vigorous use of his back leg.
But then someone knocked at the door and Baxter, in his haste to be both guard dog and welcome mat, launched off Carly with a paw to her belly. She cried out as he slid down the hall, barking at the door. She rolled onto her back and looked at a mantel clock. It was half past ten. She guessed Conrad had run out of patience. With a weary sigh, she made herself get up and go to the door.
Eighteen
Carly’s expression went from weary resignation to a winsome smile, and it waved through Max in a rush of desire. He stood there like a dolt with his hands in his pockets while Baxter and Hazel did their usual greeting, rolling and tripping over each other.
Carly didn’t seem to notice the dogs at all. She grabbed his arms and stared up at him in wonder, and he imagined that all the same thoughts were slamming through her head like they were slamming through his. “I’m sorry, it’s late,” he said. “I texted you—”
“You did? I was on the phone with my sister—”
“If you want me to come back—”
“No!” She grabbed his hand. “No, no, please come in.” She tugged on his hand. “Please. I need you.”
He stepped inside and Carly threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. “I’m so glad you’re here. That was crazy, Max. Wasn’t that crazy?”
She kissed him back, sinking into him, her arms tightly around him. But then she sighed, and it sounded weary and sad, and he felt weary and sad. “Let’s talk,” he said.
“Yeah.”
Max whistled for the dogs. They came romping into the house, their paws covered in dirt. They’d been digging. “Great,” he said. “I’ll go see what they—”
“No, no, I’ll look tomorrow. It’s the herb garden, I’m sure. Once Baxter tasted basil, there was no turning back. Come on,” she said, and took his hand, pulling him into her living room, all the way to the couch. They fell on it together like they’d just run a race. Hazel trotted off to explore, and Baxter trotted after her.
“Do you want something to drink?” Carly asked.
He shook his head. He had an early start tomorrow. He was meeting with Drake to go over his presentation. He’d meant to work on it tonight, but he’d stayed behind after Carly and Evelyn had left to have a talk with his dad.
“Max? I’m so sorry,” Carly said.
He frowned with confusion. “For what?”
“For what,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “My mother, for starters. And everything that happens from here on out.”
He didn’t understand her, exactly, but he shook his head. “You have nothing to apologize for. This is just . . . wild.” He took in her face and stroked her hair. “I had a long talk with my dad about it.”
“You did?” She twisted around on the couch to face him. She looked so hopeful, like he would fix this thing for them. He couldn’t fix it. No matter how badly he wanted to fix it for her. For them. He wanted to do whatever Carly needed. He wanted to be the one to do it all for her. He really liked Carly. He might even be falling in love with her. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to lose her.
Maybe her mother was right. Maybe you could meet someone and just know.
“Oh no. I can tell by the way you’re looking at me that it’s bad. It’s bad, isn’t it? Are they already married?”
“No,” he said with a bitter laugh. “But he really loves her, Carly. And I don’t know how to feel about it. My dad has been lonely for a long time, and devoted to Jamie, and I . . . I can’t help but be grateful he’s found someone to love.”
“I know, I understand,” Carly said. “But not my mom, Max. Anyone but her.”
He snorted.
“I’m serious. You don’t know her. She’s going to . . .” Carly looked off a moment as if trying to find the right word. “She’s going to ruin it. Not intentionally. But she’s really impetuous.” She groaned and rubbed her eyes with her fingers. “This is hard to explain.” She dropped her hands. “I love my mother. I do. But loving her doesn’t mean I don’t see her. She makes emotional decisions and acts quickly, and then . . . everyone around her pays the consequences.”
“What, you think this is a whim for her?”
Carly shrugged. “Maybe. Probably. I don’t know, I just . . . I know how she is.”
“I know my dad, too, and he’s a good judge of character. I can’t believe he’d be so head over heels for someone who wasn’t . . . totally into him?” he said, looking for the right word.
“Right,” she muttered. “My mother is totally into him. At least for right now.” She picked at the fringe of a pillow that looked like it had been chewed on. “So you think this is really happening with them?”
Max sighed. “Dad seems pretty determined.”
“Did you try and talk him out of it?”
The temptation to talk him out of it had been strong, but Max couldn’t and wouldn’t tell his father how to live his life. And his father did not ask for his opinion, which spoke volumes, really. His dad always asked for Max’s opinion. But not in this. “I cautioned him, but honestly? He didn’t want to hear it. My dad has been carrying the burden for a long time and he wants to be happy. I want him to be happy. And . . . apparently, your mother makes him happy. He was smiling at me like a little kid, Carly.”
Carly twisted around and fell back against the couch with a groan. “Did he say when they are going to Vegas?”
“He didn’t say and I couldn’t bring myself to ask.” He pushed his arm behind her and pulled her into his side. “The one thing we agreed is that it’s probably time to get Jamie into a living situation where he can have his own space.” That’s how Max knew his dad was serious. He finally agreed that Jamie needed a place of his own.
Hazel and Baxter returned to the living room and lay down together in front of the fireplace. Baxter put his head on top of Hazel’s body and sighed contentedly. That simple canine gesture tugged at Max’s heart. That’s what he wanted—to curl up next to Carly and sigh with contentment. “Maybe we could just . . . continue on. Let what happens with them happen in a world outside of us,” he suggested. Like Hazel and Baxter.
“We’ll be stepsiblings, Max. Isn’t that weird?”
“We’ll be stepsiblings in name only.”
“But in real life,” she said. “I mean, think about it. We go out to family dinners and my mom says, and this is my daughter and her boyfriend, my stepson Max.”
He winced a little. “We’re adults. It’s not like we grew up together. It is completely doable.”
“It’s completely kinky.”
“If we tell people.”
“So we never mention our parents are married?”
He knew what she was saying. It was weird. It wasn’t exactly wrong, but it still left a bad taste in his mouth. “Okay. We just found out about this. Let’s . . . let’s just take it a day at a time for now. Who knows what will happen?”
“So true,” she agreed.
“It may be over as quickly as it started.”
“Or we may be over as quickly as we started,” she murmured.
“Hey,” he said, nudging her. “Be optimistic, for my sake.”
She smiled. “I will try and be optimistic. For your sake. And mine.” She turned in his arms so that she could see him. “What about Jamie? Is he going to be okay with this new reality?”
Max wondered the same. “I don’t know. I hope so.”
“Hey,” she said, brightening a little. “Here’s an idea. What if you told your dad about us?”
“I thought about it. But I know him, and I know what he’d do—he’d end things with Evelyn. He would never stand in the way of my happiness, no matter what sacrifice he has to make in his personal life.” He scratched his chin. “What if we told your mother?”
Carly snorted. “She would think it was just grand. She would not think of it as standing in the way of my happiness, she would think of it as a party.”
Max kissed Carly’s forehead. “It’s been a draining night. Maybe we don’t think about it at all right now.”
“I can’t stop thinking about it. Do you ever feel like the universe is conspiring against you?”
“What happened to your big girl panties?”
“Hazel has them, remember?”
He kissed her lips. “I have an idea how to cheer us up.”
“Really?” She kissed him back. “It better be good. It better involve sex because I don’t think anything else will work.”
“If it will make you stop thinking about it, I am willing to donate my body to the cause.”
“And I am willing to take it. You’re not my stepbrother yet.”
Max didn’t know what was going to happen in this strange weird universe they found themselves in, but suddenly, the only thing he cared about was making l
ove to her. She pushed him down on the couch, and with every stroke of her hands, he floated a little further away from caring and a little closer to the edge of losing control. It was odd how the desire for her blazed in him each time they were together. Every touch of her lips, every caress of her fingers, stoked the flames. He couldn’t think of anything else, and he couldn’t lose this moment, not after tonight, because the little bird of intuition that fluttered around his gut was chirping that this could be the last time.
Carly suddenly gripped his head between her hands. “This is crazy!” she said breathlessly.
“No, no, not yet. It’s not crazy yet.”
“I mean, what are we doing on the couch with an audience of two when I have a perfectly fine bed?” She hopped up, grabbed his hand, and pulled him up off the couch. Both dogs lifted their heads in anticipation.
“Stay,” he said firmly, which, of course, never worked, and in this case, enticed the two lazy hounds to get on their feet, too. With a shriek of delight, Carly ran down the hall, trying to outrun them. Max followed her, looking back as the dogs pursued them, and crashing into the door when he turned to see how close they were. He managed to slam it shut just as the dogs reached them.
Carly pressed her ear to the door. “They’re right there,” she said, panting a little. “I can hear Baxter sniffing.”
Max laughed. He suddenly caught her by the waist and lifted her up off her feet, swinging her around and away from the door, then marching her backward to her bed. They fell together, laughing at their silliness. On the other side of the door, one of the dogs barked.
Max sat up. “Do you have a bone or something I could give them?”
“No! Baxter snacks on carrots—”
“My God, woman, when will you learn? A dog needs his treats.” With a growl, Max launched himself at her.
She pulled his shirt from the waist of his pants, then pushed him and rolled on top of him. From this vantage point, he could see her room—the overstuffed closet. The sheer curtains. The Post-its and pictures taped to her vanity mirror.
