by Marni Mann
Was that where our relationship was headed?
If only one of us was willing to meet in the middle, what other choice did we have?
But that would mean not having Max in my life.
A man I didn’t want to live without.
A man I knew I loved.
Maybe I’d rather have a part of him than nothing at all.
Sixteen
Max
Me: You free later? I’m going to video-chat you when I get home.
Eve: I’ll be with a client until pretty late. You’ll probably be asleep by the time I get out.
Me: I fucking miss you.
Eve: Me, too.
I stared at Eve’s last message for a few extra seconds, and then I dropped my phone onto my desk.
This week was supposed to be an easy one for her. So easy that she’d called a few days ago and asked if she could come to Miami tonight and tomorrow night to visit. While I had been on the phone with her, I’d checked my schedule and agreed.
But, when I had gotten to the office the next morning, my calendar had synced with the one my assistant maintained for me, and I had seen that both days and nights were filled.
I’d had to call Eve and tell her it wouldn’t work, that I had too much going on with work and that it wouldn’t be fair to bring her all the way here and not spend any time with her.
Since I’d canceled her trip, we’d only video-chatted once.
Suddenly, she was too goddamn busy.
I shook my head and got up from my desk, moving over to the closet that was in the back of my office. I took one of the suit jackets off the hanger and slipped an arm through each hole. I straightened my tie before I went into my private restroom.
It had been a stressful fucking day.
My beard was a mess. Most of the gel had worn out of my hair.
I dampened my hands under the faucet and rubbed them over my face, combing my whiskers before I worked them over my head, and then I came out of the restroom and saw Brett standing in my office.
“What are you doing for dinner tonight?” he asked, leaning on the edge of my desk. “You want to grab something to eat with James and me?”
I went over to the other side of it, grabbed my phone, and tucked it into the inside pocket of my jacket. “I’m meeting up with Kristin.”
He turned around to face me. “Wait, you mean, Kristin Evans?”
I nodded. “Whom else would I be talking about?”
“Shit, I know we discussed her before, but I didn’t think you two would actually meet up again.”
“Why?”
“Dude, you know why.”
“Jesus Christ,” I groaned. “Don’t start with me. It’s fucking dinner. Nothing else.” I took my keys out of my desk, and he followed me to the door. Just as I closed it behind us, I said, “We’ve got a meeting tomorrow morning with Scarlett. Do you know what it’s about?”
“I’ve tried to get her to tell me, but she won’t budge. It’s been on our calendar for weeks, so something must be up.” He stopped in the doorway when we reached his office. “I asked Jack, and he doesn’t know anything either.”
“I’m sure it’s something to do with LA.”
“I don’t know, man. She’s been texting us most of that info.”
I shrugged. “I’ll see you in the morning,” I said.
Then, I walked down the rest of the hallway and cut out the back door. There, I took the service elevator to the garage where I slipped into the driver’s seat of my car, and then I headed toward South Beach.
Kristin had picked the restaurant we were meeting at.
She was more of a foodie than me, so I’d wanted her to decide.
She’d chosen a good one; I’d been there many times.
One of those times was with Eve.
When I pulled up to the front of the restaurant, I handed the keys to the valet attendant, and I went inside to notify the hostess of the reservation.
Once I gave her my name, she looked up from her tablet and said, “The other member of your party is already here. Please follow me.”
As she led me through the dining room and toward a window that overlooked Collins Avenue, my eyes locked with Kristin’s. And hers didn’t let go of me until I kissed her on the cheek.
“Always late.”
I laughed and took the seat across from hers. “Always so goddamn punctual.”
I could smell her scent in the air. It hadn’t changed. All these years later, and it still reminded me of a fucking sugar cookie.
I didn’t miss it.
And I hated those goddamn cookies.
Still, it felt good to be in this place with her. It was so much healthier than the fighting and yelling and tears that had been shed the night before I moved to Florida.
“Enjoying Miami?” I asked her.
“Very much so.”
Before she could say another word, the waiter came up to our table, holding a bottle of cabernet sauvignon. It was a brand that I knew extremely well because it was one of my favorites.
Kristin had remembered.
“I was told the two of you would be sharing this bottle,” the waiter said to me.
I nodded, and again, he held the wine in my direction to show me a close-up of the label.
I glanced at Kristin. “You don’t forget any details, do you?”
“Not usually.”
The wine was uncorked, and the waiter poured me a tasting. I swallowed, approved the bottle, and waited until he filled both glasses before I said, “How long are you in town for?”
I was sure she’d told me at some point.
But I hadn’t listened.
“A lot longer than I originally planned.” She lifted her glass and held it in the air for a cheers. “To the both of us living in Miami.”
What the fuck did she just say?
“You’re moving here?”
She clanked her glass against mine. “I am indeed.”
Talk about fucking irony.
I couldn’t get her to leave LA and move to Miami when we opened The Agency. Instead, she’d ended our engagement and stuck around California for several years before she went to Brazil. Now, after being gone for three years, she suddenly wants to move to Florida?
“What made you change your mind?” I asked.
She wrapped her small fingers around the stem of the glass, turning it so that the wine swished up the sides. “There are two things. First, I checked out all the restaurants in LA that wanted to hire me, and none of them were good enough.” She took a sip, staring at the rim of her glass, her eyes gradually lifting to meet mine. “I don’t want what everyone expects out of me. I want to do something different.”
“LA is expected. Miami isn’t.”
“Exactly.” Her thumb ran over the section of glass she’d been staring at. “I’m tired of being only an employee. This time, I want a stake in the business. I want to be proud of something besides just the menu.”
“I can understand that.”
“There’s one other reason I’m moving here.”
“And that is?”
She paused, dropping her hand from the glass and resting both of them over the table, which she used to lean her body against, moving even closer to me. “You.”
Seventeen
Eve
“Hey,” James said as I answered her call, her voice sounding slightly manic. “What are you doing right now?”
Using my shoulder to hold the phone, I got the front door open and walked inside my house, flipping on the lights. “I just got home. Why?”
“Are you alone?”
I laughed. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I just meant, do you have any friends over, or is it just you?”
I dropped my bag on the couch and went into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine. “I’m alone. What’s up, girl? You sound a little nutty.”
“I have something to tell you, and I don’t want it to freak you out.”
I opened th
e fridge and took out one of the bottles of white. “Well, that’s one way to get my attention.”
“God, I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what, James? You’re starting to worry me.”
I poured the wine into a stemless glass and brought it into my bedroom where I kicked off my shoes and took a seat on my bed. After a sip, I pushed my back against the headboard and stretched my legs over the mattress.
“I promised Brett I wasn’t going to tell you this. I’m literally hiding in the guest bathroom right now, so he doesn’t hear me on the phone with you.”
My feet dropped off the bed. “What the fuck? Are you okay? Did something happen?”
“It has nothing to do with me. I’m fine.”
Relief washed over me, and I was able to relax again. “Then, what is this about?”
“You.”
Me?
“Please start talking, James, before I really do freak out.”
I heard her take a deep breath, and then she started with, “Brett and I were out to dinner tonight. We went to this little place on South Beach that we’ve gone to before. Anyway, we’re sitting at our table in the corner, and guess who walks in?”
“I don’t know.”
And I didn’t.
This conversation could go in so many directions; I had no idea who I should be thinking of.
“Max.” She took another breath. “Picture this, okay? Max walks into the restaurant, and Brett’s back is to him. So, I tell Brett that Max is here, and we should invite him to eat with us. But, as Brett turns around to look at Max, he tells me that’s not a good idea. I couldn’t imagine why Brett would say that until I watched Max move across the dining room and sit at a table with some chick.”
“Okay.” It was the wrong word. I just didn’t know what else to say, but I knew something had to come out, so she’d know I was still on the line.
“Wait, has Max called you to tell you this already?”
“No.” I took a breath, and it stung. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Listen, the guys eat with women all the time—clients, associates, other agents. I think nothing of it, and I would never make a big deal about it. But I didn’t like the way this chick was looking at Max or how she was smiling at him, and I didn’t like the way she had the waiter take a picture of them. Something just felt really off.”
I didn’t like the feeling in my stomach.
I didn’t like the way my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. How I was no longer resting across the bed but pacing my bedroom.
“I didn’t ask Brett who she was at the restaurant because I didn’t want to make a big deal about it there,” she continued. “But, during the drive home, I did some digging. Wouldn’t you know that the bitch had posted the picture on social media, tagged Max, and put the caption, Him, with a heart next to it?”
My throat felt so tight. “James—”
“When I saw that post, I lost my damn mind. I showed Brett and asked him who the hell she was. Girl, I was not at all prepared for the answer he gave me.”
I stopped at the foot of my bed.
It felt like my heart was pounding out of my chest. My stomach was queasy.
Nothing felt right, and I could tell by the sound of her voice that the story was only going to get worse.
“What did Brett say?” I asked her.
She sighed, the noise sounding as sick as I felt. “That the woman is Kristin Evans.”
“Max’s ex-fiancée,” we both said at the same time.
I knew who she was.
Max and I had briefly spoken about her in the past. He’d told me they dated through college, and they’d mostly lived together up until he moved to Florida. That was when she had ended things between them.
I didn’t know why.
I just assumed she hadn’t loved him enough to go.
When I’d first learned about her, I’d looked her up on social media. I had seen that she was a chef and was working at a place in South America. But that had been a while ago, so maybe she had moved back.
Or she was visiting.
Or he had asked her to come.
My throat was getting even tighter, making it hard to breathe.
“I didn’t know they were having dinner tonight,” I said. “I didn’t even know they’d been in contact.”
Tonight would have been one of the evenings I spent with Max in Miami had he not canceled my trip. The only reason I had been able to make it work was because the team from Horse Feathers had some flexibility with the date they were arriving, so I’d tried to rearrange things to see him. I’d thought we needed the time together, especially since I’d left Punta Cana so upset. I just wanted to talk to him in person and explain why I was feeling this way.
But he hadn’t given me the chance.
He’d called me the next morning and said the dates wouldn’t work.
He was too busy.
And, now, I knew the reason was because of his ex.
I felt like I was going to be ill.
“You know, I was supposed to be with him tonight,” I whispered.
“I know.”
I dropped my ass onto the edge of the bed and gripped it with one of my hands, squeezing the blanket between my fingers. “Why didn’t he tell me, James? Why did he say nothing about her? All he did was text me earlier and ask if we could video-chat later tonight. You would think he would have at least mentioned he was going to dinner with her.”
“And, with everything he’s said to you lately, and then you add in this…”
“Oh God.”
There were tears. I wasn’t sure where they had come from. If they were out of anger or sadness or fear. I just knew they were streaming down my face, and my body was shaking so hard.
“Eve, listen to me, I don’t want you to call him tonight. You’re upset, clearly. So, I want you to take a minute and think about this, and then talk to him after you’ve had some sleep.”
She didn’t want me to call him, screaming like a lunatic.
I got it.
Because, as much as I wanted to yell, it would only put him on the attack, and it would solve nothing.
But screaming would feel so good right now.
“I’ll wait until tomorrow,” I promised.
“Are you okay?”
I closed my eyes, feeling the wetness mash between my lashes. “No.” I tried to settle the pounding inside my chest. “I’m angry and disappointed and sad and gutted, and I’m really fucking pissed.”
“If you need me, you know to call me anytime. I’ll answer the phone, no matter what time it is.”
I was sure Brett had told James not to tell me and definitely not to get involved in this, so I imagined this was probably going to start a war between them. I was sure Max would say something to Brett about it, too.
But James didn’t care.
She had my back.
She always did.
“Thank you,” I said softly.
“Anything for you.”
I hung up and stared at the blank screen of my phone, the emotions pouring out of me in waves.
Why?
I’d never questioned who he ate with or hung out with or went to the bars with. That was because I trusted him. Enough so that I’d brought other women into our bed. And I’d watched him fuck each one of them.
Never once had I gotten jealous.
It just wasn’t a trait I possessed.
That was why I didn’t understand his reasoning for keeping Kristin a secret.
Why he’d said he had business meetings both nights.
She certainly wasn’t what I would consider work.
What made it even worse was that he had canceled on me to be with her.
God, he was such a dick.
I knew I should put my phone down and not pick it back up. I knew I definitely shouldn’t click the social media app where Kristin had her account. But my hands were moving so fast, and I couldn’t
stop them.
Once the app was open, I clicked on the search bar and typed in her name.
Her profile came right up.
And the picture of her and Max was there.
The shot had been taken at their table. They were sitting on opposite sides and leaning in to get closer. He was smiling at the camera, but she was looking at him with a grin that covered her whole goddamn face.
Him with a heart.
“How could you do this to me?” I gritted between my teeth.
Just as I went to look away, a text came across the screen, and Max’s name was at the top of the alert.
I took a deep breath, willing some of the sickness to go away, and I clicked on the text box.
Max: You free? Let’s video-chat.
The phone fell from my hand, and I hurried into the bathroom, turning on the water to fill the tub. Once it was set to warm, I went to the fridge and grabbed the whole bottle of wine, bringing it back into the bathroom.
I ditched my clothes and slid in.
I could hear my phone beeping from the floor of my room, telling me more messages were coming in.
I didn’t care what any of them said.
None of them could take this feeling away.
Eighteen
Max
Brett, Jack, and I sat around the conference room table, drinking from our coffee mugs and waiting for Scarlett to walk in. We’d stopped by her office on our way here, and she’d told us she was running some numbers and would be down in a few seconds.
That was fifteen minutes ago.
I could tell the guys were getting as restless as me.
“What the fuck?” Jack said as he looked at the time on the wall clock. “This isn’t like Scarlett at all. She’s usually the first one in here.”
“And Max is usually the last,” Brett said.
“Yeah, yeah,” I groaned. “Maybe she’s putting out a fire. I know my department processed a shit-ton of contracts today. Something could have gone wrong.”
“I don’t think so,” Brett responded. “I think she’s still working on whatever she’s presenting to us.”
