Playboy Ever After

by Chance Carter

  I didn’t answer, too blindsided by the depth of the feeling in his words. That and I didn’t think I could even speak without immediately bursting into tears.

  Max let out a frustrated growl, my only warning before he swept down and pressed his lips to mine. I curled up against him out of instinct, just like I always did. Chest to chest, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. There was a little nook in his body that I fit perfectly into, and settling back in after a couple days of barely talking was like coming home.

  Max kissed me feverishly, pulling me tight to him with one hand on the back of my head and the other on my waist. My own hands clutched pathetically at the front of his shirt when they should have been pushing him away. I couldn’t help it. Kissing him was my personal addiction, something I was going to have to quit cold turkey if I wanted to fix this. Right now, I didn’t want to fix it. I would stay under his thrall forever if it meant I got to feel like this. Cared for. Cherished.

  His mouth trailed eagerly down my jaw, gliding along my throat and making me gasp. He tightened his fist in my hair and pulled my head back, exposing more of my neck for him to hungrily devour. I was weak with lust. My knees trembled, struggling to hold me upright. If I didn’t have Max’s arm supporting me, I probably would have slumped into a pile of nothing on the floor.

  Max’s teeth scraped along the delicate flesh where my shoulder met my neck. This time, my gasp was more of a moan. His hardness ground against my stomach and my mouth watered as I thought about how sexy it would be to have one last office tryst. We could do it over his desk. We could do it under his desk. Fuck, I didn’t care where we did it, as long as I got his cock in me. I wouldn’t feel right until I was full of him, surrounded by him.

  Him. Him. Him.

  “Stop!” I jammed my hands against his chest and sent him teetering backward.

  He was panting. We both were.

  “That’s exactly the problem, Max,” I said to the unspoken question in his eyes. “I get so wrapped up in you that I forget about me, about what I want. But I know what I don’t want, and that is letting you lead me around behind you for the rest of my life because I’m too weak to go out there and seek what I want on my own. I’m sorry.”

  The hurt in his eyes nearly killed me. I could tell he was searching for the right words, but if he hadn’t found them by now, I doubted he was ever going to. And that was just something I’d have to live with.

  I loved Max Westfield. Max Westfield didn’t love me. He felt all sorts of things for me, sure, but love wasn’t one of them.

  A muffled ringing cut through the tense silence of the office. It was my desk phone.

  Max anticipated my action. “Leave it,” he said. “Please… leave it.”

  The word ‘please’ coming from his lips sounded almost as sinful as when he whispered naughty things to me while we made love. But no amount of ‘pleases’ in the world could have stopped me from taking the opportunity to get out of that explosive situation.

  I gave a tiny shake of my head, rearranged my clothes and hair, and strode out of Max’s office.

  Chapter 30

  Max

  It was sometimes nice to work late, because the office became peacefully quiet after everyone left. There were always a few stragglers, burning the midnight oil to make whatever deadline they had on their plates, but for the most part I had the place to myself. Emma had gone home at the proper time, and every time I walked past her empty desk I was reminded of what it was going to be like in a couple of weeks when she was gone for good.

  Well, not quite like this. Her desk was empty, and in two weeks it likely wouldn’t be. There would be another person waiting outside my office in case I needed anything, but that person might as well be a mannequin compared to Emma.

  I came back from the kitchen with a steaming mug of black coffee and passed Emma’s desk again, frowning the whole while. I was feeling sick and unhappy about things, but I didn’t know what to do about it.

  Why couldn’t I just tell her that I loved her? I’d tried to, but the words came out all wrong. I’d never told anyone I loved them before. I was hardly accustomed to the idea that I was in love with someone in the first place, and telling her how I felt seemed like a step further than I was prepared to go.

  Maybe we just needed some time. Maybe she just needed some time. Maybe this would all work out in the end.

  I sat back down at my desk and continued working. Or trying to, at least. Our kiss from earlier kept flashing through my brain, scattering my thoughts each time it popped up. It was a great kiss, but a goodbye kiss. I didn’t want a goodbye kiss.

  We hadn’t talked for the rest of the day, and she didn’t even come to say goodbye when she left. Was this what the next two weeks were going to be like? I wish that I could regret getting myself in this situation in the first place, but I couldn’t. I was hurting now, but every iota of torture was worth it for the time we had spent together.

  And I wasn’t finished fighting for her yet. I didn’t know what my next move was, but I wasn’t finished. Emma wanted to move on, and I wanted to respect that decision because I respected her. The only problem was that I didn’t want her to move on, so at some point our interests were going to collide.

  I heard the sound of my phone vibrating on my desk with a text. It was my mother, asking me why I wasn’t at home. She apparently hadn’t learned her lesson and still favored popping by unannounced.

  I told her I was working late tonight, but that I’d come by and see her afterward if she wanted. It wasn’t like I had anything better to do anyway.

  Twenty minutes later, I was surprised to hear the sound of high heels clacking down the hallway, growing nearer and approaching my door. For a moment, I thought perhaps it was Emma, come back to change her mind. Wishful thinking, it turned out.

  “You mustn’t work yourself so hard, you know,” Mother said, bustling through the door. “You’ll get wrinkles on that handsome face of yours. You’ve got my skin, you know. You do wear sunscreen, don’t you?”

  She was carrying two plastic grocery bags, which she dropped on my desk atop a stack of paperwork. The bags were hot and smelled of peanuts and garlic. My mouth watered.

  I ignored her question about the sunscreen and leaned back in my chair, gesturing toward the bags. “What’s this?”

  “What do you think it is? It’s obviously food, dear.”

  “Yes, but why are you bringing me dinner? That’s not like you.”

  Paulina’s mouth flattened. “Can’t a mother bring her son something to eat?”

  “By all means,” I said, spreading my hands. “I suppose as long as it’s not home cooked I don’t have to worry that you’ve been taken by body snatchers just yet.”

  She scowled, but began unpacking the bags, placing a variety of take-out containers on my desk.

  I couldn’t remember the last time my mother had done something quite so... motherly. It was out of character, but in the end, quite appreciated. My stomach rumbled at the sight of the steaming entrees she arranged in front of me.

  “I couldn’t remember what you liked, so I got a little bit of everything,” she said. “You do like Thai, right?”

  I nodded, already digging into a noodle box of phat khing. “I like everything.”

  It struck me funny that Emma wouldn’t have had to ask. She knew, almost instinctively, all of my likes and dislikes. Nobody liked everything and I was no different, but Paulina would forget by the next time, and I didn’t want to upset her by turning my nose up at her thoughtful present. It was easier just to pretend.

  Paulina settled into the chair across from me, tucking a paper napkin into the collar of her shirt and arranging more onto her lap. When she caught me looking, she winked.

  “It’s a thousand-dollar dress, darling.”

  I chuckled, happily chewing a mouthful of spicy noodles and tofu. “So, what brings you all the way over here?” I asked. “If you’ve come to give me more shit for the Baldric thing, you should know t
hat my capacity for taking shit today is grossly overwhelmed.”

  “That sarcasm,” she mused. “Your father was all about the sarcasm. Sometimes I swear I can hear him when you speak. It is equal parts wonderful and disturbing.”

  Her eyes took on a far-off look and I wasn’t sure whether she expected a response or not. I was hesitant when anyone drew any comparison between my father and I, especially my mother. But this time it seemed she was being nice.

  “To answer your question,” she said, coming back to herself. “I just wanted to come and see how you’ve been doing. We haven’t really talked much recently, except to exchange sharp words. I thought maybe we could put our weapons away and enjoy a nice meal together.”

  “I’d like that,” I said, trying to hide my surprise by dipping my face to slurp up more noodles.

  “Tell me then, how are things in your life, Maximilian? How’s Emma?”

  The noodles stuck in my throat, and I had to swallow hard to dislodge them and send them on their way. The last thing I wanted to deal with was my mother’s gloating, but I couldn’t avoid the question without her calling me out for it.

  Ah well. May as well bite the bullet.

  “Emma quit and dumped me,” I said, stabbing my chopsticks into the container.

  “What?”

  The horror in Paulina’s voice caused me to look up at her. Yup, sure enough, there was horror on her face as well. I did not understand this woman. I would’ve thought she’d be celebrating by now, calling up all the women on her Bachelorette shortlist and telling them they had another chance to win a rose.

  “She wants more independence,” I replied. “And we have different ideas about what our future should look like.”

  “Let me guess, you want to be a bachelor forever.” She put down her container on the edge of the desk and grabbed one of the bottled waters, cracking open the lid and shaking her head.

  “It’s not that I want freedom to play the field at will or anything cheap like that,” I defended. “I don’t believe in marriage. Look at you and Dad, for Christ’s sake. You two started out happy and look what happened.”

  Paulina closed her eyes in irritation, like she used to when I was a child and got too annoying. “Maximilian Augustus Westfield, you are a fucking fool.”

  My jaw dropped open. I’d never heard her sound so serious before, and she rarely swore, choosing more dramatic forms of speech. I tried to recall the last time I heard her say a swear word any more brash than shit. This was strange, especially considering she was sober.

  “I think you’re over—” I tried to say, but she held up a hand to silence me.

  “Listen to me, darling. I’ve had my hang ups about your relationship with Emma, and I’ll be the first to admit that perhaps I judged her a bit too soon. That being said, I can see how happy you are with her. You’ve suffered from a few of your father’s faults in your lifetime, but one in particular has been your coldness.”

  “That’s not true,” I said. “I’m not cold. I’m always very friendly.”

  “Ah, but that doesn’t mean you’re warm,” she said. “You’re friendly and polite, sure, but you don’t make connections with people, Maximilian. You’ve got one true friend, and I suspect the only reason you two are friends in the first place is because you grew up around each other and Jeremy annoyed you until you finally gave into him. You’ve never opened yourself up to another person so easily as you did with Emma. Perhaps part of the reason I’ve been so adamantly trying to set you up is because I feared you wouldn’t come across a partner naturally. I won’t always be around, dear, and the thought of you living out the rest of your days as a lonely old man was positively taxing. I was hoping that you’d form the same connection with one of my girls that you eventually went on to form with Emma. And, yes, perhaps I was a teensy bit offended when none of the girls I’d chosen were good enough, but your new assistant was.”

  I stared, trying to think of a response. She was being so open with me that I didn’t quite know how to handle it. I felt like I could ask my mother anything right now and she’d reply honestly and without hesitation. Normally digging deeper than the surface led to a few hasty redirects and a reminder that it wasn’t polite to pry.

  “I didn’t expect that out of you,” I replied. “I appreciate it, though.”

  “Good.” She picked up her food and started eating again. “Now are you going to do something about it, or are you going to continue moping until I start parading women through your office again?”

  I laughed. “Much as I’d love to do something about it, Emma has said her piece. I can’t expect her to change her mind any more than she expects me to change mine.”

  “Just because she doesn’t expect you to change your mind doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.” She pointed her chopsticks at me demonstratively. “You’ve forged this ridiculous anti-marriage attitude based on the farce that was the only marriage you’ve really ever been exposed to. I’ve never bothered to sit down with you and help you understand the way things went with your father and I. I should have, and that is my fault.”

  “He’s dead, Mother. You don’t need to make excuses for him anymore.”

  “I’m not making excuses! Sit back and eat your food.”

  I did as she said, enjoying this more lucid side of my mother very much.

  “I know that you think poorly of your father based on his many affairs. I don’t blame you. My opinion of him, which had always been nearly immaculate, took a nose dive the first time I found a pair of panties that weren’t mine under our bed. Our bed, Maximilian. Christ, it tore me to pieces. I agree with you that to vow to be with someone for the rest of your life and then to go off and do something like that is a grievous crime.

  But I also know that you’re not the same man your father was. You share many of the same characteristics, and sometimes yes, it is like looking back on an old photo of him, but there are far more differences than there are similarities. For one thing, your father treated me like a queen. He doted on me hand and foot, buying me little presents and always remembering my birthday and our anniversary. He told me he loved me every day, even long after I had stopped listening.”

  “And you’re saying I’m not like that?” I scowled. “I’m not sure how this is supposed to be inspiring. So far you’ve told me that I give off the impression of a cold fish.”

  She sighed, “Listen, darling, listen. Yes, your father was sweet on me like honey. He was also just as sweet to Ruth, Merida, Brenda, Tiffany...” She trailed off, her lips quirked into an amused smile. “Am I making my point?”

  I nodded, and she continued.

  “And you know, I wouldn’t have had things any other way, as far as your father was concerned. Our marriage was fraught with difficulty, but the one thing I’ll never regret, so long as I live, is having you. Loving someone as wholly as I love you is worth all the complications in the world. It’s worth everything. My only hope is that you get to experience that kind of love in your life, but without all the negativity that came with mine.”

  This was not how I expected this impromptu dinner with my mother to go.

  “Thank you.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “No thanks necessary,” she replied, waving me off with her chopsticks. “It has been my pleasure raising you, even if you are at times an abhorrently rude boy.”

  She smiled mischievously and continued digging into her food.

  For the first time in such a long while, I felt like my mother and I were on the same team. It felt good.

  Mother left just after we’d finished eating. I cleaned up, carrying the garbage over to the kitchen and putting the food we hadn’t touched in the fridge as a free lunch for someone tomorrow.

  Afterward, I finished up my work for the day and left my office. The sun had long since slid below the horizon, and it looked more like the middle of the night than late evening.

  I grabbed some papers I needed Emma to scan on the way out, sliding them atop h
er desk. I noticed her computer was still on, which was unusual for her. She was normally all about saving energy where she could. She must’ve been stressed out from and forgotten.

  Out of curiosity, and because I knew I’d probably never get the opportunity again, I leaned over the back of her chair and clicked to pull the computer out of sleep mode. Then, feeling like a complete creep, I pulled up Pinterest. She was still logged in. Her wedding planning board, her raison d’etre, was mine to browse at my leisure.

  Chapter 31

  Emma

  “This one sounds interesting,” Willow called from the other side of the couch. “Creative individuals wanted for temporary, cash work.” She frowned, mumbling the next part. “Must be comfortable with nudity.”

  “Someone else’s or my own?” I replied.

  She shrugged, “Doesn’t say. Shall I send you the link?”

  I laughed and tossed a pillow at her. Looking at jobs was stressful, but at least with Willow around it wasn’t as bad as it could be. I should have started scouring for any and every job I was qualified for the moment I decided to hand in my notice at Goodman-Westfield, but I’d been dragging my feet. Now I was officially unemployed. Just me, a dwindling lump of savings, and selection of listings to weed through to find ones that didn’t involve nudity. Mine or otherwise.

  “Are you sure you want to leave the business world so soon?” Willow asked. “I’m finding tons of jobs for office admin and that kind of thing.”

  “I’ll go to it as a backup, but I’d rather find something where I can flex my creative muscles a bit. I’ve got some money while I figure things out.”

  Not much, though.

  “As a kindergarten teacher, I completely agree that you should find a job that suits you spiritually as well as financially,” she said, her tone diplomatic. “But I do think you need to take into account the fact that creative jobs usually require some sort of post-secondary degree. Being a self-taught artist isn’t enough.”