Oh, God. I slumped in my seat. "You guys are having an affair. You're married," I said to Dave. "And you're engaged," I glared at Phoebe. "Those promises mean nothing to you?"
"Love transcends all that," Dave said.
"Dave! You were just telling me that you and Yvonne were trying to have children! How can you go from that to...this?" I waved my hands, unable to articulate exactly what this was.
"Fortunately, there are no babies on the way. That would be awkward." He squeezed Phoebe's shoulder, and I felt truly sick.
"I can't believe this. You guys are having sex while you're married and engaged to other people."
Phoebe looked offended. "We didn't want to make any major decisions until we were certain it was going to work out." She smiled at Dave so tenderly I wanted to leap across the table and yank them apart, screaming about commitment and honor and marriage vows.
I'd never liked Yvonne, but this was horrible. How could they do this? "I don't understand how this could happen."
"Love happens. You can't always explain it."
I held my hands over my ears. "You're committed to other people. For life!"
Dave's face was tense. "Listen, Shannon, we're not bad people. We didn't intend for this to happen, but it did. You should be happy for us, that we found each other. Some people go their entire lives without finding their true love."
I thought of Yvonne and Zach, still thinking their beloveds were theirs. They had no idea the people they loved were having sex with someone else. And these were my friends. People I loved and relied on. Not some weirdo strangers who had no morals. These were people I trusted. "I have to get out of here."
Phoebe grabbed my hand. "Don't go, Shannon. Please. We need your support on this. It's not going to be easy."
"My support?" My voice sounded like an empty echo. "You want me to support adultery?"
Phoebe glared at my word choice, but Dave patted her hand and kept her silent. That hand had been on Phoebe's naked body, and that hand was married to someone else. I closed my eyes. I couldn't believe this.
Dave nodded. "Since Emma's moving into Blaine's place, I was hoping I could stay at your place for a while. Phoebe and I don't want to move in together until the divorce is final."
I yanked my hand free of Phoebe's grasp. "Since when is Emma moving in with Blaine?"
"She didn't tell you?"
"No." Oh, my God. My head was going to explode.
Dave looked apologetic. "She told us yesterday after we told her about us. She's the one who suggested I move in with you. I won't be able to afford my own place until I clear myself through the divorce."
"You already told Emma?" They'd met Emma through me. And yet I was the last to know? And Emma was moving out?
"Since you two refuse to be in the same place together anymore, we had to do it separately."
"We refuse to be in the same place? Is that what she told you?" I knew we'd barely spoken for the last ten days, and she'd been spending most nights at Blaine's instead of the two of them shacking up at our place, but I'd still been thinking it was temporary. She was my best friend, and we'd work it out, right?
"So, can I move in?" he asked.
I stared at them and envisioned the two of them getting naked on the other side of my bedroom wall. "I have to go."
I grabbed my purse and ran for the exit. I didn't even stop when I heard Van calling my name. My entire world was crumbling under my feet and there was only one person I wanted to see.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I knocked on Max's door at eleven twenty at night, then stepped back and prayed he wasn't with another woman. If he was...that was it. I was unable to cope.
I heard some shuffling inside, and then the door opened. Max was standing there in his boxers, his eyes squinted in sleep, and his hair all messed up. He looked confused. "Shannon?"
The tears started to fall, and I couldn't talk. I just stood there like an idiot.
Max pulled me into his apartment, wrapped his arms around me, and held me while I cried. At some point, he picked me up and carried me to the couch, but I barely noticed. Didn't care. All I wanted was to feel someone's arms around me.
And he was happy to oblige.
After a while, when I couldn't cry anymore, I became aware of the fact that I was on his lap and his forearm was resting on my breasts. I sniffled. "Sorry for crying all over you."
He shook his head and kissed my forehead. "You know I'm always here for you. What's wrong?"
I babbled for almost two hours about everything, except for Noah. Didn't think that would be appropriate. Told him about Hildy's offer, about Phoebe and Dave, about Emma and Blaine, about Otto screaming at me. After a while, I realized that it really was quite an extensive list.
No wonder I felt like shit.
I stopped a moment to consider all that I'd just poured out, and that's when Max kissed me. On the lips.
It was so familiar. So safe.
Nothing like when Noah kissed me. None of the excitement. None of the quivering limbs and trembling muscles. And look where that had gotten me? Nowhere. It was time to come home, to Max, to the only place that wanted me.
I kissed him back and thought about work.
He picked me up and carried me to his bedroom while his tongue played with mine. I kissed him back, hung onto his neck.
The comforter puffed around me when he set me onto the bed. "Still using the same detergent, huh?" That same scent. I sighed and relaxed. No more games. I knew what Max was like. No questions, no guilt, just us.
His hand cupped my breast, and his lips found my nipple. I arched under him.
I needed to go find Missy tomorrow. It had been too long since I'd heard from her. I had to find out what was going on. If she was quitting, then so be it. I needed to know, and I needed to do damage control.
Did I want to be a lawyer? It would be cool to be able to walk into M&S and be an equal. And I did know about the law. But I hated everything about lawyers.
Max made a little noise, and I remembered where I was. I dug my fingers into his shoulders and closed my eyes, trying to focus on the moment.
I still couldn't believe Dave and Phoebe were having an affair. Was it my fault for introducing them? I shouldn't let Dave move in. Yvonne would think we were having an affair and probably have me killed.
"Shannon?" Max's voice was quiet, and he stopped kissing me. "What's wrong?"
I blinked, staring at him. This is what I'd been longing for since I'd broken up with him? Kissing Max felt empty. Achingly empty. I thought of Van's comment about the great sex I'd had with Noah. The one redeeming benefit. It had been great because Noah was a great lover…but also because of how I'd felt about him.
I didn't feel that way right now. At all. I wanted what I'd found with Noah. I didn't want this. "Max."
He tried to kiss me again. "Mmm?"
"Get off. You're crushing me."
He rolled to his side. "I missed you."
I wanted a shower. God, what was wrong with me? Wasn't it supposed to feel good to be with Max? He was supposed to be my anchor…and yet it felt wrong. So wrong. I didn't understand. "You did?"
"Yes." He propped himself up on his elbow and cupped my breast with his free hand. "You know we're meant to be together."
I removed his hand and thought of Dave and Phoebe. If they were right, and I'm not saying they were, but if they were right that they were each other's soulmate, then they made a mistake in committing to the wrong person. I looked at Max. Really looked at him. Would I find myself in Phoebe's shoes in three years if I married him, wishing for someone else?
What if Noah decided he loved me?
Or someone else? Someone who made me feel special and wonderful?
Would I want to leave Max? The thought made me feel sick. "I don't want to get divorced, Max. Ever."
He pinched my nipple. "Lighten up, Shannon. Just have some fun and let it go."
I shoved his hand away from me. "Max! Cut it out
. I'm serious."
He sighed and flopped on his back. "Fine. Let's talk."
I propped myself up on my elbow so I could look at his face. "Do you want to marry me?"
He closed his eyes and said nothing.
So I smacked his chest with the flat of my hand. Hard. He jerked up and glared at me. I glared back. "Max, I'm trying to be serious here. Do you want to marry me?"
He frowned. "Are you proposing to me?"
"No!" Heaven help me. I hadn't meant that at all. "You talk all the time about how you love me and how we're meant for each other. But I'm almost twenty-five and you're twenty-nine, and there's been no marriage talk. Why?"
He spun away from me and climbed off the bed. "Shannon, I'm not ready for marriage."
Something moved in me, but I wasn't sure what it was. Relief? Dismay? "Why not?"
"Because..." He ran his hand through his hair. "I guess I don't feel like I know enough to be sure I never want to be with another woman again."
I frowned. "Is that why you were flirting with that woman at the bar a few weeks ago?" The one that had caused me to break up with him.
He shrugged. "I don't know."
"If I hadn't come in that night, would you have gone home with her?"
Max was silent, and my stomach dropped.
"I take it your silence means you would have at least considered it."
He sat back on the bed and took my hand. "Shannon, I love you. I do. But I'm not ready for marriage. Let's go back to what we had. Dating. Eventually we'll know whether marriage is the right next step for us."
I stared at his hands wrapped around mine. Then I looked at him. "I don't want to do what Dave and Phoebe are doing."
He looked shocked. "I don't either."
"If we were meant to be, we'd know it by now." I pulled my hand away. "I don't want to stay together because it's easy and safe. That's why I came back here tonight. Because I was scared and alone, and I needed familiar ground."
"That's why we're great for each other. I'm here for you."
I shook my head. "Max, that's not a reason to get married or even stay with someone. Because something is familiar."
"So, that's why we date and don't get engaged. Let's take the time to figure it out."
I didn't need to think anymore. "I already know. I've been hanging onto you for the wrong reasons."
He said nothing, but he didn't stop me when I stood up. "Maybe you're right."
I stopped and looked at him. "What?"
"Maybe you're right." He rubbed his jaw. "I don't know. Maybe we should really try out some other people. Do some comparison shopping."
Comparison shopping? "Yes, go do some shopping, Max."
He nodded. "I think that's a good idea." He looked at me. "And if we both decide there's nothing better out there, then we'll get married."
Yes, that was my dream proposal. There's nothing better available, darlin', so what the hell? Wanna go for it? I picked up my blazer and slung it over my arm. "I'll always love you but..." What was there to say? I love you, but I don't want you?
He stood up. "I love you too, Shannon. Let's keep in touch, okay?"
"Sure." It was weird. I didn't feel as empty as when I'd arrived at his doorstep, yet technically, I was walking away with one more loss than I'd arrived with.
But I'd gained too. Knowledge. Power. Freedom. Answers. I finally knew for absolute certain that Max was not the man for me. No more second guessing myself. It was over, and I was free.
I felt the best I'd felt in a long time.
My good mood lasted long enough for me to schedule the baby shower and make cute little invitations with babies on them. Of course, that was because I'd cloistered myself away for the weekend. Emma stayed away from the apartment, and I didn't answer the phone. Didn't think about Missy, Hildy, or work.
I just enjoyed being finally free of Max, and wondering when I'd have Noah-sex again. Not specifically with Noah, but now that I'd been at that level, I wanted nothing less.
I decided I needed some new friends. Someone to go out with and be single. Pick up some guys in bars.
Unfortunately, I didn't have any single friends.
Then I thought of Van and his crew at the bar the other night. Van had friends. He was my age, and a self-proclaimed single guy. And there'd been more guys than girls at his table. Always a good ratio.
Of course, I did owe him a couple apologies. For blowing him off for the last couple weeks, and for ditching him at the bar. I could maybe bring him a six-pack like Max had, then beg him to let me be his friend?
I almost laughed. How pathetic is that? Please be my friend.
Okay, so I was pathetic. The first step was admitting it. The second step was doing something to remedy it.
I looked at the construction paper and other creative supplies I'd spread out on my floor to make the baby shower invitations, and I decided to make Van a card. One that would apologize and make him smile.
I needed his smile.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
On Monday, Van's card was sitting on my desk in its homemade tissue paper envelope, but I couldn't give it to him until tonight when he came on duty. I didn't know his phone number or where he went during the day.
So I passed the day by calling Missy. Surprisingly enough, she answered. "Hello?"
"Missy. Shannon McCormick. What's up?"
Silence.
"If you don't talk to me, I'll come over there and harass you in person."
"My dad didn't call yet?"
I frowned. "Why would your dad call me?" Missy's dad was managing partner of one of the other very prestigious firms in the city.
"He's going to call Otto and tell him that I'm quitting. But I didn't want to get you in trouble, so he's going to tell Otto it was his fault for being mean. That way Otto will have no one to blame but himself." She sounded petulant and childish, and my heart stopped beating.
If her dad called Otto, I was sunk. Sunk! No way would Otto accept it was his fault. He'd spin that in my direction so fast it would decapitate me. I needed this job if I was going to start going to school at night.
I frowned. But I wasn't going to school. I needed the job because I had rent, food bills, and a life to pay for. Especially since I was no longer dating Max, who would have been happy to hand over some cash to tide me over.
On my own. And I was going to make it.
"Anyway, he's going to call you after he's called Otto and let you know how it went."
"You weren't going to tell me yourself?"
Missy was silent.
I cursed the effort I'd put in over her. Anyone who didn't have the courage to quit her job herself was never going to make it in this business, and it was just as well she was leaving. She was twenty-two and still had her dad call up and quit for her?
It made me glad I'd rejected all my parents' offers to gild my path into the legal world. I'd hate it if I ended up like Missy. "Don't have your dad call Otto."
"But I want to protect you."
The girl was sweet, I'll grant her that. Not lawyer material. "You'll do more damage if you have your dad making phone calls. I'll take care of it."
"Are you sure?"
Disgusted at your wimpiness, but yes, sure. "Yep."
"Um, Shannon?"
"What?"
"My dad's trying to get me another job for the summer, but he said it would be helpful if I had a reference from this job. Can I put you down?"
Interesting question. Seeing as how I'd just concluded that Missy would not succeed at any place like M&S, that request sort of put me in an awkward situation. "What kind of job?"
"Another law firm. In Boston."
I'd never been put in this situation before. One part of me sympathized with Missy, but another part of me was more than a little annoyed for what she had put me through, and what she was going to put me through.
Plus, there was the simple fact that she'd never survive in the big Boston law firm environment, and I wouldn
't be doing her any favors by getting her hooked up with one. The poor girl would probably end up in counseling. I swallowed. "I'm sorry, Missy, but I can't give you a reference for another big firm. I don't think you'll survive those any more than you could handle this one. But if you want to work somewhere else, like at a non-profit or something like that, then that might work. Call me then."
"Thanks for nothing." And then she hung up on me.
"Ditto," I said into the empty phone. I pictured poor Missy huddled under her desk hiding from a partner who wanted to berate her...oh, wait, that was me, the desk-hider-underer. For a moment, I let the guilt of letting down a perfectly nice, albeit wimpy, kid wash over me and settle in my gut.
Then I clamped it down and banished it to the Unacceptable Emotions corner of my soul and started brainstorming on damage control.
Three hours later, I was sitting in front of Otto, my palms sweating, my knees trembling, my memo getting crumbled in my clutching hand. So much for my goal to stay off Otto's radar.
"You have five minutes."
Gee, I feel so welcome. Wouldn't it be nice if we could load him into a straitjacket, pin him to the floor, and then berate him for hours? It could be a tag team affair that would last for weeks until every member of the firm had had their chance.
"Well?"
Right. Time to do my thing. I handed him the memo. "Here is a list of all the interns. I wanted to give you a report on each one. Some insight on who is tracking in what direction." I had created a bar chart and broken it down by attribute: work ethic, connections (including family, friends, and significant others), knowledge, personality fit in the firm, attitude, and overall impression.
It was damn good, and even Otto would have to be impressed with my detailed exposé of our interns' deepest secrets. Nothing could get by me.
He studied it for a moment. "So, this Jessamee is good? That name sounds familiar."
"She's in the office next door."
He frowned, then shook his head. "Nope. Haven't noticed her."
Must be interesting to be so high up on a throne that you don't even notice the little people. "Well, she's tough, and she knows what she has to do to get ahead. And she'll do it."
One More Kiss (A Too Many Men Romantic Comedy / Chick Lit Novel) Page 17
