Night and Day

by ANDIE J. CHRISTOPHER

  “Her boss realized that he couldn’t use her to get to her parents, so he fired her.”

  “No. That’s not why.” The possibility that Letty would have lied to him hadn’t occurred to him since the first day she’d walked into his studio. She was bright and good, and she was completely honest. She couldn’t have been manipulating him from the start. She wasn’t capable of it. “She got fired because she was fucking her boss and couldn’t accept he was done with her.”

  His mother gasped.

  “He also couldn’t do his job, and he didn’t want the board to find out that he’s a total incompetent.”

  “That’s what that manipulative slut wants you to believe.” Max felt like he’d been punched. “I’ve worked with her father. He’s embarrassed by her. You have to get rid of her for the family’s sake.”

  Until Max’s father blindsided him with the sale of his studio that morning, Max had never jettisoned his own dreams for his family—his family had never given him a reason to sacrifice for them. His father knew that, which made his statement curious.

  He looked over at his mother. “Has he hit his head tonight?”

  Alejandro continued, “You honestly can’t tell us that you’re proud to have her on your arm.”

  But, given that he’d just realized now that he had more than feelings for Letty, that he actually loved her, he didn’t know how to articulate that in a way his asshole of a father would understand.

  Max just grunted at his father, knowing that anything that came out his mouth at that moment would be entirely too profane to be overheard. Only the possibility that Letty could come looking for him and that his mother would side with his father kept him from slamming Alejandro against the wall and head-butting him.

  “Or, is that how you’re hoping to save the building. Maybe her father will bail you out? It won’t happen. I’ll see to it.”

  That’s exactly what he would do if he was like his father, but in that moment, he realized he wasn’t. His father wouldn’t ever give up control over Sylvie when he was literally killing her. He wouldn’t give up his control over his children even if they hated him. And Max hadn’t even wanted Letty to think he was using her.

  He gritted his teeth to remain silent, but he knew that was the wrong choice it as soon as he heard Letty gasp behind him. As soon as he felt her grab his arm and then flinch away from him in an instant and when he saw tears form in her eyes. Knew it even more when he didn’t reach her before she ran even further into the cavernous hallway. Knew it in his bones that she wouldn’t listen to him when she wrapped her arms around her waist and slid back from him when he reached for her. “It’s not true.”

  “What?” She looked up at him teary-eyed, but defiant. “That I’m a slut or that you’re using me for my family’s money?”

  “I—I don’t know what to say.” He hadn’t defended her to his father, and he didn’t have anything to offer her anyway. Whether he wanted to hurt her or not, whether he wanted to become his father or not, he’d hurt Letty. And, if she stayed with him through this, he would only hurt her again.

  “You could have defended me.” Disdain dripped off of her words, and shame shuttled its way through his body. The way the smile had disappeared off of her face told him that he was going to lose her. There was nothing he could do about it. She wasn’t going to be his, and he wouldn’t belong to her. He might not be his father, but he hadn’t stood up for her, and she was hurt. “You could have just asked for a check. You didn’t have to sleep with me to get ahead.”

  He never would have asked her for money. He knew how much that would hurt her, but he’d found a way to fuck it up and hurt her anyway. As soon as they’d met, he’d known that he would hurt her eventually. Seeing her there, dejected when he’d never seen her that way, couldn’t bear it, was just his worst nightmare coming to life. No matter what he did or how he changed, he wasn’t going to be good enough for her.

  * * * *

  Letty should have known that the only reason someone like Max would be interested in her in the long term was her family’s money. The only difference between him and Simon was that he was more convincing. Her family’s money was the only reason she’d ever gotten a job or a boyfriend. To think that she could break away from being the Gonzalez sister that nobody wanted to look at or think about to being adored by a man like Max—a gorgeous, virile, talented artist—was insane.

  To think that a man who made beautiful things for a living would find her beautiful was crazy. And her breaking heart didn’t care how outlandish the two of them together had seemed. She bent over in half, desperately wanting to reach out to Max for support. All the training at never letting anyone see her real emotions, all of the keeping a good face on in public disappeared.

  “This wasn’t about you wanting me at all, was it?”

  Max reached for her, and she recoiled. “I always wanted you.”

  When he’d been inside her, over and over again, it had certainly seemed liked he had wanted her. But hadn’t she believed the same thing about Simon once?

  She wasn’t going to believe him now, only to be set up for a fall. Her first instinct was to run as far and as fast as she could, but she wouldn’t do that either. Her whole life, she’d trained not to show her emotions and make a scene, and now would be no different. Not when her heart was breaking into a thousand pieces and her confidence was terminally wounded.

  Max walked closer to her and she did her best to shove his parents and the other bystanders out of her mind. Spine straight as steel, she met Max’s gaze, yearning for him at the same time as wanting to beat him with her spiked heel until he bled like she did. “I don’t want to see you again. Ever again.”

  “Can you just listen to me for a minute?”

  No. No, she couldn’t. If she listened to him, he’d have an excuse, and she’d been starved of love for so long that she would believe anything he told her. “No. I’m done listening to you.”

  She tipped up her chin, trying to channel her sister as she walked out.

  Chapter 18

  Max looked around his studio at four the next morning, contemplating which thing that reminded him of Letty he should destroy first. Problem was that he had too many options. She’d touched every bit of his space, every inch of his body. She’d invaded his mind, colonized his heart, and then ripped that previously dead organ out and held it up like a trophy in front of his parents.

  Humiliation ripped through his raw insides, turning his stomach. He wasn’t good enough for Letty, could never be good enough. He was too weak to defend her against his father. He loved her, but she thought he was only with her because of her family’s money because he had too much pride to tell her the truth. Everything they’d shared together—how well they fit as a pair—none of that mattered. Only the cold, hard fact that he could never be who she needed him to be—she needed to be with someone who could support her, not someone who would let someone else make her feel worthless.

  The worst thing about it was that his feelings of embarrassment couldn’t cover up the emptiness she’d left in the middle of his chest. It had only happened last night, and he hadn’t been able to sleep. When he’d tried, Letty’s laughter had seemed to echo off the concrete walls and floors. During the fitful half-hour nap he’d managed, he’d dreamed about the scent of her hair and the strands tickling his face as she rode him.

  Instead of the blank, cold look she’d leveled at him while accusing him of only wanting her for her family’s money, his subconscious had served up her passion. His mind was simply taunting him with what he would never have again.

  His fists bunched, he moved toward a copper-wire sculpture he’d been working on—of the aborted drawings he’d made of her, this was the first piece he’d made. He’d chosen the copper because it was sturdy; there was a reason people wanted copper pipes in their homes. Copper endured. Letty had endured. As soon as she’
d darkened his door, he could see that about her. Maybe that’s why she had called to him so. As he ran his hand over the piece, gathering his will to destroy it so he wouldn’t have to look at it anymore, wouldn’t have to talk to gallery patrons about his inspiration for the piece, he thought of all the things that he and Letty had never talked about.

  At all the things they would never get to talk about.

  Anger raced through his veins. At her for not being willing to listen. At himself for not giving her any reason to give him the benefit of the doubt. He’d known that Simon had only wanted her for her family’s money, but he should have treated them with the same care that he’d treated her issues with her body. No matter that he’d gotten her to open up physically, he’d never been inside her heart. She took care of him because that was just what he did. He hadn’t earned his way into getting her to trust that he could take care of himself and her.

  That’s what finally got him to bend the copper wires in half. That move should have satisfied him, but it hadn’t.

  He turned and walked into the small kitchen to make coffee. Even there, she’d made her mark. Her favorite brew in place of his own.

  Once the coffee was made, he went back up to the loft and sat in his makeshift bed. He stared into space for what must have been hours because, the next thing he knew, someone entered the warehouse downstairs. Hoping it would be someone who would just steal everything so he didn’t have to sort through it and figure out what he could live with, he stayed put until his brother bellowed, “The fuck happened to you last night?”

  Max ambled down the stairs, acutely aware that his brother wasn’t going to stand for any of his emo bullshit. “I left.”

  “Yeah, I’m aware.” Joaquin looked nearly as rough as he must.

  “What the fuck are you doing up this early?”

  “Making sure you haven’t killed yourself.”

  Hadn’t he? He sure as shit felt pretty dead on the inside right now. “I’m alive. You can go home and go to bed.”

  “Seriously.” His brother sat at one of the tables, signaling that he wasn’t going to leave until he was assured of Max’s mental stability. “What happened last night? I finally get there, and Mom is crying all over Laura, our dad is pissed as hell, and you and your woman are gone.”

  “She’s not my woman.”

  “And how did that happen?”

  “She thought I only wanted her because of her family’s money.”

  “Why would she think that?”

  “That’s why her fuck face ex was with her, and Dad told her that he’d cut me off.” Max shrugged and sat down across from his brother. “And then my father told her that I was only into her because of her family money. She was sensitive enough about it that she believed him.”

  “She’s seen your books, right?” Joaquin leaned forward, resting the weight of his upper body on his forearms. “She knows you’re about to break out.”

  “I don’t even know that, brother.”

  “I do.”

  Max’s head snapped back up. His brother didn’t give a lot of compliments, which was probably why he went through a sous chef on a monthly basis. Max wasn’t even certain his brother had ever noticed his work. Even though he was an artist in his own right, Joaquin had always been so focused on his own work to the exclusion of everything else that Max wouldn’t have been surprised if he failed to know what was going on in Max’s life.

  “You do?”

  Joaquin gave him a look that told him his modesty was not welcome in this space. “Of course, I do.”

  “That makes one of us.”

  “Letty knows it, too.”

  “You’ve never even met her.”

  “Laura did.”

  “So you and Laura have been gossiping about me?”

  “I don’t gossip.” His brother’s brow furrowed, and frisson of amusement broke through Max’s self-pity. “We’re concerned about you.”

  Amusement murdered in its crib. “I’m going to be fine.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “You seem to be the expert on my career and my needs today. I was going to offer you a cup of coffee, but you can leave anytime.”

  Joaquin cocked a brow in a way that reminded Max of The Rock. He’d done it for years when they had to be around their parents. It had always amused Laura and him, but right now it was just irritating. “Your coffee is shit anyways.”

  “It’s Letty’s coffee.” The words slipped out, even though the last thing he wanted to talk about was Letty. Didn’t want to say or think her name.

  “So, then it’s probably good.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “You look like shit without her.”

  “She’s been gone for twelve hours.”

  “At this rate, you’ll be dead by lunch.” Joaquin moved toward the kitchen. No fucking intention of leaving.

  Max followed him, needing more coffee to continue this discussion. “Since when are you a goddamned romantic?”

  “I don’t share my romantic business with you.”

  “You don’t have any romantic business.” Max grabbed his brother a mug. “One time, you told me that you liked to fuck, not talk, and that’s why you only went to really loud clubs.”

  “That was a decade ago.”

  True. Joaquin didn’t talk about sex or dating with Max. One thing they had in common is that they better expressed themselves through what they did. Growing up in a house that carefully cultivated loaded silences had made them sublimate everything.

  The way Letty was so upfront and honest about what she was feeling—her immediacy—had been so different to him, so comforting. Coming from his brother, though, it was jarring. “What do you think I should do?”

  In order to run his restaurants in the militaristically precise way that he did, Joaquin always had to have a plan. “I think you should get her back.”

  “That’s helpful.” Sort of like taking him to the base of Everest with no equipment or training and telling him to “climb” would be.

  The sound of Joaquin’s teeth grinding together and the coffee brewing were the only sounds in the room, telling him how frustrating this was for his brother. Trying to talk his brother through a romantic problem. It was as though their parents finally breaking their silence—breaking apart, coming back together—had broken the silence on the whole family. Laura had a husband who loved her. Joaquin and Max were talking about feelings. What was next?

  “What does Letty need?”

  If the words “in bed” had ended his brother’s question, Max would have had a list a mile long. Off the top of his head, he could have named every place on her body that made her sigh when touched the right way. He could tell Joaquin that he had to kiss her for exactly ten seconds before he could tell that she knew that he really wanted to be kissing her.

  He could tell his brother that no other woman would do for him. Not now. Not a week from now. Not ever.

  Instead, he had to think about it. And wasn’t that a motherfucker? He claimed to love a woman but hadn’t the faintest clue what she needed that he could offer her. He almost sat back on his heels with that realization. He wanted this woman, adored her and the way she surrendered to him willingly and easily, but he couldn’t spout off with what she really needed when asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  “Who the fuck are you today, Yoda?”

  “Wise I am.” His brother even did the voice. Something had changed about him, a thing he should probably investigate, but he was feeling self-absorbed. “Listen to me, you should.”

  “How am I supposed to know what she needs?” His brother just looked at him, his familiar grim expression back in place. “It’s not like we spent a lot of time talking. It was mostly work and sex.”

  “
Why did she really dump your ass?”

  “I told you.” Max stood up, frustrated. “She thought I was after her money.”

  “Then how can you prove that you aren’t?”

  “I’m not going to him and begging. I refuse to pretend.” He refused to fake caring about his father. Nothing was worth faking it anymore. And yet, the promise that he could have kept Letty if only she believed that he wanted her for her beautiful, funny self, taunted him. Her teasing smiles and the easy way she’d invaded his whole life and made everything better.

  Even though he was still just getting to know her, he knew that he loved the way she made him feel. And he would do anything to make her feel the same way. That was something, right?

  He knew for sure that he couldn’t live with the anger spoiling in his gut anymore. “You always look like you’re going to break something when we talk about him. Or her, for that matter.”

  “And you don’t?” Max failed to understand why his older brother was so much less angry at their father. Joaquin was the one who had borne the brunt of their father’s homophobia-tinged rage. He was the one who had taken the majority of hits—both physical and emotional.

  But Joaquin just shrugged. “I have better things to be angry about than him. Or her.”

  “I’m worried about her.” He wasn’t sure if he would have been able to admit that out loud to anyone else. Last night, he’d had what would look like a tantrum to outside observers. Hell, maybe that’s what it was. Still, his overriding fear had been that his mother would allow herself to be hurt again. He didn’t see the point in trying to reconnect or picking her up from rehab if she was just going to slip back into old habits. “I don’t know if she’s going to stay sober.”

  “Will you feel better if she relapses?”

  Maybe. That would be more familiar at least. “I don’t want that to happen.”

  “Do you think that maybe you could let her earn back your trust?”

  “I thought we were talking about Letty.”