by Len Webster
“Have you spoken to her about this?”
“Yeah. It’s actually what we fight about.”
“You guys are fighting over money? Do you need some help … financially?”
His best friend sighed again. “No, that’s not why I called or sent that text. Honestly, we’re good. I don’t make a lawyer’s salary each year, but I make enough where we’re both comfortable. We fight because I know she’s delaying her dreams. She’s scared of another setback like at the last restaurant where she worked. The head chef really destroyed her confidence.”
Max pressed on the brakes and came to a slow stop behind traffic. “Clara’s not happy?”
“No,” Noel confirmed in a sad tone. “It doesn’t help that she knows Andrea is coming back from the Florida office soon.”
Andrea.
Max’s heart stalled at the sound of her name.
The woman he’d kissed under a tree in New York.
The woman he dared.
The woman who had left him scorned with her confusing emails demanding space.
“Max? Max, are you still there?”
He swallowed hard. The pain in his chest radiated, but he was fine. Two days ago, he thought he had let her go. But hearing Noel say her name was the latch breaking. The hurt she inflicted came back to him, stronger than ever, repeating its assault on his heart.
“Still here.”
Noel went silent.
Max continued to drive as he waited for Noel to speak again.
“I know what I have to do, but she won’t like it.”
“What are you thinking?” Max asked, curious.
“I’ve got to get in touch with a few of the restaurants back in Melbourne to see if they’d still be open to having her work there.”
Max turned onto Josie’s street and parked his car outside her apartment. He cut the ignition and stared at his phone in the slot next to the brake handle. “How is that going to work?”
“It’s not,” Noel stated. “We’re not working right now, Max. She keeps hiding her true feelings because she feels like she owes it to me to be in Boston. But she matters more than my job does. And she shouldn’t have to sacrifice her dreams after she’s worked so hard for them. I’ve still gotta work out how to do this without it affecting our marriage. She needs kitchen experience and a confidence boost. She doesn’t need to be stressed over management statistic assignments and all that.”
“I agree,” Max found himself saying. He knew how hard Josie was working for her bachelor and for her dream career. It was only fair that Max encouraged Noel to support Clara achieving hers. “Look at Rob; he’s now the world champion. Clara worked hard to become a chef. She already went to culinary school. Whatever you think is right, encourage her not to give up.”
“Thanks, Max. I knew you’d understand.”
He grinned as he removed his belt, reached over, and picked up the soup he had ordered. Then he picked up his phone and disconnected the Bluetooth so that the call went back through his phone. When it successfully disconnected from the car’s speakers, he pulled the key from the ignition and got out of the car.
“Hey, Noel, I’ve gotta run. Anything else you want to discuss?”
Noel hummed. “Oh, it was nothing important. Just wanted to see if you wanted to do some pro bono work here in Boston—off the record, you’ll be receiving a gratitude package, and it’ll be all expenses paid.”
Max closed his car door and blinked at Josie’s apartment building, surprised at the offer his best friend was expressing. “What?”
“As I said before, Andrea’s coming back to Boston soon after she took over the Florida office for eight months. She finally got the senior lawyer position, and she’s coming back with a lot of work. Gregson asked me if I knew any corporate lawyers willing to help out for a month or two. And well, besides Andrea, you’re the only other lawyer I know. Thought since the whole Sarah thing and your dad’s firm pressuring you, you might want to get away. You’re welcome to stay with us if you’d like. I ran it past Clara, and she insists.”
Boston.
Working with Andrea.
Seeing Andrea.
“Noel …”
“I know, but maybe you being here and Clara cooking for you can boost her confidence, too—”
“Noel.”
“And I’d like seeing you around more often. We could make weekend trips to see Alex, Keira, and Will. It’d be nice to have you in the US, Max.”
He let out a bothered sigh as he made his way towards the gate of Josie’s apartment. Typing in the security code, he let himself in. As Max made it into the elevator and up to Josie’s floor and then apartment, he listened to Noel discuss how good of an idea it was to have Max in Boston working pro bono. The money wasn’t the problem.
It was seeing Andrea.
She had humiliated him with her silence.
With her short messages.
With her need for space.
When he reached Josie’s front door, Noel had suggested, “At least think about it?”
“I’ll think about it,” he promised as he said goodbye and hung up on his best friend. Juggling everything in his right hand, he balled his left into a fist and tapped his knuckles against the door.
His answer was silence.
He knew she was home.
She had texted him two hours ago to say she had seen her doctor.
Max knocked once again.
He finally heard footsteps and Josie saying, “Hang on a sec!” before her door opened and he was presented with a pale, sweaty version of her.
“Max?” She squinted at him. “What are you doing here?”
He lifted his right hand higher, and her eyes darted to the plastic bag.
“What is that?”
“Soup,” he stated.
The annoyance didn’t leave her face, but he noticed her sway and the increase of sweat that dotted her forehead. “Why did you bring soup to my door?”
His lips curved into a smile. “Because you’re sick.”
“So that requires soup delivered to my door?”
He gave her a nod and pushed past her to enter her apartment. “I’m looking after you,” he said once he reached her kitchen bench.
Josie was slow to catch up, and she stood on the other side, glaring at him. “Max, you don’t have to look after me.”
Max untied the plastic bag and pulled out the still hot chicken soup. He pushed aside the wet plastic bag and pulled off the lid.
“Josephine, I’m your friend. Go back to bed, and I’ll bring it to you.”
“No,” she whined.
He stepped around the counter, gently wrapped his fingers around her arm, and ushered her out of the kitchen. “Come on. Bed, please.”
“But … but …” Then she sighed. “Fine, but don’t expect me to be happy.”
Josie grumbled as she made her way to her bedroom while Max laughed at her. He spun back around and went to the top cupboards in search of a bowl. After opening several, he pulled out a black bowl and set it on the counter. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a folded piece of paper with something scribbled on it.
Curious, he set his fingertips on the paper and brought it closer. Then he picked it up and unfolded it to read what was written down.
Josie,
In case you wanted dinner in the meantime.
0423 540 535.
Zac.
Max frowned at the message.
Then he turned the page over to find that the dinner invite and phone number from a man named ‘Zac’ was written on Josie’s medical certificate. The discovery had him frowning as a sense of urgency filled him. He had no right to feel possessive.
She wasn’t his.
He was her friend.
His need to make sure this ‘Zac’ never went to dinner with Josie was unwarranted. If she wanted to date him, Max had to let her. He had no say in her personal life whatsoever.
At the bottom of the medical certificate, just b
elow the signature, he noticed her doctor’s name.
Dr Zachary Ryder.
Zac was her doctor.
She had met him today.
Gotten his number today.
Max folded the certificate and set it back on the bench. He had no right to pry into Josie’s love life. If she wanted to date a doctor, she had his blessing. He wanted what was in her best interests.
And if that was her dating a man in the medical profession, then so be it.
But no doctor could ever understand her future career better than a lawyer.
No.
No one would understand her better than Max did.
He knew the pressure of law school.
Of placement.
And of actually being a practising lawyer.
He decided then to ignore what he saw. Be oblivious to her getting another man’s number. Max picked up the bowl and spun around. He reached over the bench and picked up the takeaway container filled with chicken soup. Carefully, he poured the hot contents into the black bowl and then set the plastic container down. Max took in the kitchen to find the drawer housing the utensils. When he made his way towards the skinny drawer, he pulled it opened. He took out a spoon, closed it, and headed to Josie’s room.
Upon reaching her door, he noticed the yellow sticky note on the door. He squinted at the note and read it.
No, I can’t read your mind.
I just knew you’d ask.
LOVE YOU.
Stella xo.
He found that quirk between Josie and her roommate, Stella, was sweet and sentimental. Knocking lightly on the door, he grasped the handle and twisted it. He peeked into the room to find it dark. The curtains covered the windows, and he could just see Josie lying on her side. He tiptoed towards her and sat on the empty side of her bed.
“Josephine, I have your …” He reached over and set his free hand on her shoulder. He peered over to find her eyes closed. “And you’re asleep.”
Max pulled back and set the bowl of soup on her bedside table. Then he got off the bed and made his way to her. He bent his knees and set his hand on her forehead.
Heat met his palm.
She was burning up.
She wasn’t kidding when she said she was sick.
Josie had a fever, and to ensure that she would get better, he let her sleep.
“You’re okay, Josephine,” a sweet voice whispered. “Sleep. Your fever’s gone down.”
She groaned as something cool touched her forehead.
He let out a deep chuckle. “Stop moving. You’re making the cloth fall off.”
Josie waved her arms to try to swipe away the hands on her. She kept her eyes closed, unable to open them. Her eyelids were still heavy and hot. “Too cold.”
“Too bad.”
She recognised that voice.
Her arms fell to rest on the bed. “Max?”
“Right here,” he confirmed. “I’m just gonna sit down next to you.”
“How long have I been asleep?”
“Soup’s gone cold. It’s just after four. Stella’s home.”
Stella …
Josie jerked up to a sitting position. Her head quickly succumbed to heat, but she pushed through the aches.
Stella was meant to call so she could speak to her mother, but she had fallen asleep. The room was still dark, and she tried to focus on her surroundings. The first thing her eyes landed on was Max staring at her.
“I’ve been asleep for four hours?”
Max nodded. “You have. I stayed for a bit but had to take a phone call, so I let you sleep. Changed the cloth several times when it warmed.”
She glanced down to find the wet cloth next to her on the bed. “I’m so sorry I fell asleep.” She reached over and flicked on the bedside lamp, illuminating his face and her room. The worry on his face mixed with the relieved gleam in his eyes.
Her heart swelled knowing he worried about her health.
That he looked after her.
Whatever spontaneous feelings she had towards the doctor she had met earlier today meant nothing.
Her heart wanted this man who pressed his palm to her forehead.
Her heart now beat his name.
Max.
Max, Max.
Max.
Doctors were nice, but lawyers, they were her weakness.
Actually, Maxwell Sheridan had become her weakness.
“Yep, the fever’s going down,” he announced with glee tinting his voice.
Josie let out a soft moan once he set the cold, wet cloth back on her forehead. It was relief.
The cold mixing and extinguishing the hot.
Closing her eyes, she melted into his touch the moment he used his free hand to cup her jaw.
He was definitely her saviour in her time of need.
Max.
Max, Max, Max, her heart sang.
A soft moan escaped her lips and boomed loudly in her ears.
But at that moment, she didn’t care.
“I like you, Max,” she whispered.
His thumb pressed just below her bottom lip. Relieved her eyes were closed, she memorised his touch and what it did to her. Tomorrow, she’d blame it on her sickness. Take it back to save her pride and her heart.
“As a friend?”
She felt as if his words caressed her lips with how close she suspected he was. That thumb of his gently moved to the corner of her mouth.
She hummed and shook her head lightly.
“Max,” she breathed as the cloth fell away from her forehead and another hand steadied her jaw.
“Yes, Josephine.”
God, the way he says my name.
“To be very honest and real with you …”
“Yes?”
“I like you …” She lifted her eyelids to find his light brown eyes staring at her. Wide and beautiful. She dragged her teeth on her bottom lip before saying in a low voice, “In whatever way you want me to like you.”
Those beautiful eyes of his softened as he leant forward and pressed his forehead to hers. Just for a moment, he held her there. Then he whispered, “Honestly. Like me honestly, Josephine.”
When he pulled back slightly, she asked, “Will you like me honestly?”
“I will,” he vowed as he brought her closer to him, this time pressing his warm lips against her forehead. The searing heat between her fever and his lips caused the jolt in her chest and the heaviness in her eyelids to take over and forced them to fall closed.
And she didn’t care that she began to hum her mother’s favourite song.
It felt perfect for this moment.
For him.
For them.
La
Vie
En
Rose.
The room was dark when she woke up.
Josie was alone.
Raising her hand up, she grasped the dry cloth and removed it from her forehead. She let it fall to the bed as she sat herself up. The last thing she remembered was humming to Max before her body succumbed to sleep. Josie slowly swung her legs over her bed so that her feet lay flat on the carpet. She was about to get up off the bed when she noticed her phone. She picked it up to find her mother had sent her a message.
Mamma: Josephine, Stella stopped by to visit. She told me you’re sick. Drink plenty of fluids. Take care of yourself. We tried to call, but you must have been resting. I will be out of hospital soon. Dr Frederickson says I’m recovering from the fever, and we can start chemo in a week. I love you, my sweet Josephine.
Tears began to well.
She knew her mother must be feeling a lot better if she was able to send a text message. Josie read the message once more, and those tears that formed slid down her cheeks. She reached up and brushed them away because they were tears of relief. Her mother still had strength in her to continue fighting.
And Josie believed in her.
Just like she had always believed in her mother.
Josie glanced at the time on he
r phone to see that it was 9:26 p.m. She had slept for another five hours. But unlike when she woke up this afternoon, she felt better. Her body didn’t feel as hot. Didn’t feel as heavy or sluggish. She had needed the additional five hours.
Now the only problem she had was that she’d be awake all night, and she was hungry. She knew the chance of Max saving the soup was highly unlikely, but she knew bread and peanut butter were in the kitchen waiting for her. After quickly texting her mother that she was feeling a little better and that she loved her, she got up from the bed and made her way out of her bedroom. Closing the door behind her, she noticed a sticky note next to the one Stella had stuck on her door. The dim light wasn’t enough for her to read it properly. She lifted her phone so that the brightness illuminated the note.
Josie,
Stella said I could join in on the note sharing.
Hope you’re feeling better.
Max.
She couldn’t stop the smile that splayed on her lips. And she couldn’t help the way her heart sped up at the memories of him on her bed, holding her so intimately.
Honestly.
He wanted her to like him honestly.
And he had promised he’d like her honestly, too.
However, that could still mean platonically, and that little reminder brought reality back to sprinkle its “come back to the real world, Josie” dust all over her. But tonight, she would let her foolish heart hope for more.
The sounds of women talking caught her attention. Josie spun around and made her way down the short hallway and into the living room to find the TV on. Then she heard the theme song and noticed Max sitting on the couch. He hadn’t heard her. She leant against the corner of the entryway and watched as he nodded his head along to the Gilmore Girls theme song. She recognised the episode. It was when Rory moved into her Yale dorm to discover that Paris was her roommate. When she had watched that episode with Stella, they would always fight over who was Paris.
To end every Gilmore Girls fight they had, they both conceded that neither were Paris or Rory. And that fight would turn into who Rory should have ended up with.
Jess or Logan.
Stella was Jess all the way.
Josie was still torn between the two.
