Max

by Sawyer Bennett

  I'm thinking not, because he knows Stevie and knows he's like one of the girls.

  At any rate, twenty minutes into the massage and Stevie had managed to pull out my entire story. I told him and Olivia all about Melody and how close we were, and how horrible it was to watch her die. Stevie started crying, and he then went off on a tangent--a very important tangent--and told me about Olivia's cancer. I knew a little bit about it from Max, but I got the full story. Then Stevie pointed me back in the direction of what he called "the really juice stuff" and had me spilling my guts about how Max and I met, and with no shame I admitted to him and Olivia how hard I was falling for him.

  After the massage, the conversation was halted somewhat as we got facials, but then resumed again once we started in on the manis and pedis. And now we're finishing up and I feel happy and refreshed.

  "So, seriously," Stevie says as his nails get painted a bold neon yellow. "You and Max have got to figure a way to have some more quality time together. While I'm sure your niece and nephews are adorable beyond measure, you and Max need more alone time."

  "Totally agree," I say wistfully, thinking back to the last time we were together intimately. One week ago to be exact when he fucked me so hard over the back of his couch, only to take me into his bedroom and fuck me slowly and tenderly.

  I still can't decide which one I like better.

  "If you need help with the kids, you only need to ask," Olivia says. "Garrett and I will watch them."

  "Me too," Stevie says. "I am an absolute child whisperer and I am way more fun than Olivia and Garrett."

  Olivia snorts but doesn't contradict him.

  I huff out a frustrated breath. "It's not just finding time away from the kids. It's finding time period. I've got to make a certain amount of money to give them what they need and pay my bills, and that means work, work, work."

  "Max told Garrett how worried he is about you," Olivia murmurs.

  "He did?" I ask curiously. Because I didn't really think men talked about stuff like that.

  Olivia nods. "He cares about you a great deal, Jules. Even if he hadn't told Garrett, who told me, it's plain to see."

  "I care about him too," I say softly, my heart squeezing in absolute abandon when I think about Max and how much he's come to mean to me.

  "You should just marry him," Stevie quips. "He's rich as all get out and you wouldn't have to work."

  I snort, as does Olivia, and I don't take him seriously. I think Stevie and Olivia have figured out I'm not a gold digger since part of my story to Stevie earlier included telling them about the loan Max gave me and how I insisted on paying him back from each painting.

  "I just wish I could give him more of myself," I say glumly. My true fear is that Max will get tired of waiting for me to give him more.

  "Well, if your paintings keep selling the way they are, you could potentially give up your other job and that would free up time," Stevie says.

  And he's not lying about that. He quickly sold the ones that Max originally brought him and I've been working my ass off over the last four weeks and my art has been selling as fast as I'm producing it. Stevie had reached out to some other trendy business shops in the area and three of them are also stocking my work.

  On top of that, Stevie told me today that a friend of his that's a gallery owner wants to talk to me about putting together a collection to possibly show next spring, which means more painting.

  But even if I could make enough to get by just on my artwork alone, I'm not sure I would do that. I mean, I love my job. I love working with the elderly. I think it's my calling.

  So if I keep my job at Sweetbrier, and I keep painting, and the kids keep being my first priority, where exactly does that put Max?

  Once again at the bottom, and that weighs heavily on me, because not only is that not fair to him, but damn it...it's not fair to me either. I think I deserve something too, right?

  "I don't know how to make it all work," I say with a voice heavy with sadness. Or is that self-pity?

  "Look," Olivia says from her pedi chair beside me, and I crane my neck to look at her. "Maybe you find the compromise in there. Your art is selling well and you're making good money now. Maybe you could go part-time at Sweetbrier to free up your schedule."

  I blink at her, but then my lips curl upward. That's not a bad idea at all. I could totally cut my hours back at Sweetbrier, as long as I was secure enough in myself that I could keep selling my art. That way I could continue to do a job I love, continue my art, and then have more time for Max and the kids.

  A sudden wave of jubilation sweeps through me and I grin big at Olivia. "You know...that could work. I mean...I'd have to run numbers on what I could make with the paintings, but that could work."

  Of course, I'd want to talk to Max about it and see what he thought. I trust his advice over anyone's and I know he'd never steer me wrong. Most importantly, Max knows how important it is to me to do things on my own without any handouts, so he'll help me analyze the situation.

  I cannot wait to get back to the apartment and talk to him about this.

  --

  I'm practically skipping down the hall to my second-floor apartment. As I pass by Glenda and Bill's, I hear them in there yelling at each other, but even that can't dampen my mood.

  Knowing that Max is just on the other side of my door, and that I'll see his face, and yes...I'll even kiss it and it doesn't matter if the kids see it or not.

  Knowing that perhaps I've found a way to give me more time with that man.

  I turn the knob and push the door open, only to find Max waiting for me just inside the doorway, and the look on his face causes every happy feeling within me to vanish and a pit to form in my stomach.

  "What's wrong?" I whisper, my heart galloping frantically as I brace for bad news. I can see it written all over his face. "Where are the kids?"

  "Their father is here," Max says gravely, and my knees almost buckle.

  "What?" I ask in astonishment, my purse slipping from my shoulder and falling to the floor.

  "He's got them down in the complex playground," he says, and I immediately spin toward the door, for some reason panicked that he's with them and not within my sight.

  "Relax, Jules," Max says softly as his hands come to my shoulders and he turns me around. "I made him give me his car keys and wallet before I let him take them down there. He suggested it to the kids and they were so excited to see him, and I didn't think I had the right to say no."

  I nod in understanding but my head is buzzing from trying to take it all in. And yeah...I could see why Max felt uncomfortable in denying Dwayne's request to take the kids out to play, but am totally impressed with his quick thinking to get his keys and wallet. Not that Dwayne would kidnap the kids. He's not stupid.

  Just completely unreliable and an overall douche for abandoning them and their mother.

  "What does he want?" I whisper fearfully.

  "I don't know," Max says. "Caught me off guard. Was waiting outside your door when I got here. The kids immediately ran to him, but I had him come inside for a while to talk. He seems chill, and says he just wanted to spend some time with them. But I honestly don't know what his agenda is, baby."

  "I need to go talk to him," I murmur, although it's the last thing I want to do.

  "Want me to come with you?" Max asks, his hands skimming up to either side of my neck and his face leaning in to me.

  I nod. "Would you?"

  "Yeah, Jules. Of course I will."

  We head back out of the apartment and down to the complex playground. I immediately see Dwayne pushing Annabelle on a swing, while Rocco and Levy play on the monkey bars.

  Rocco sees me first as we walk up behind Dwayne and he jumps off the equipment, running to me with a big grin on his face. For a moment my heart sinks, thinking that happiness emanating from him has everything to do with his father being here, but then he yells, "Aunt Jules...we had the best time with Max today. We got to see the wolv
es and some bears, and then he took us for ice cream, although we promise we'll eat dinner."

  Rocco slams into me, his arms coming around me and his face pressing into my stomach. My arms immediately wrap around him and I sigh with utter relief that he doesn't seem to be taken in by Dwayne. Annabelle jumps off the swing and also runs to me. She looks up at me with bright shining eyes and says, "And I know a secret that Max told me but I can't tell you."

  "You do, huh?" I ask with a smile as I run my fingers through her curls.

  She nods enthusiastically. Levy jumps down from the equipment and walks over to us, not as enthused, but he gives me a bright smile before turning to look at his dad with a measure of confusion.

  And that's when I turn to Dwayne. I keep my tone light but I get to the point. "What are you doing here?"

  Dwayne reaches a hand up, scratches at the back of his head and shrugs. "Wanted to see the kids."

  "You could have called first," I tell him point-blank.

  "Didn't think you'd let me come if I did that," he snaps, and I immediately turn to look at Max, as I sense this isn't going to be pretty and I don't want the kids to see it.

  "Will you take the kids back up and maybe get dinner ordered?"

  Max's gaze burns into me and I can see him warring with wanting to stay there to have my back and wanting to protect the kids. Finally he nods, shoots a hard glare at Dwayne that clearly conveys he doesn't like him. He then reaches into his pocket and pulls Dwayne's wallet and keys out, handing them to him. Max turns to the kids and says, "Come on, little minions. Let's go order pizza."

  They all herd around Max and he swings Annabelle up and over his shoulder. She shrieks with delight and for a moment I watch them all walk away before I turn back to Dwayne.

  "Seriously, why now?" I ask him. "You couldn't even bother to come to Melody's funeral. Couldn't even be there for your kids when they were grieving."

  "Did you ever think it was hard on me, Julianne?" he asks, and of course he calls me by my full name because he's never really been a friend of mine in all the years I've known him. He barely tolerated me when he and Melody first got together, and after he started his cheating and abandoning ways, I made no secret that I didn't like him.

  "Not as hard as it was on me, Dwayne," I hiss at him. "I'm the one that held her hand when she took her last breath, you asshole, and you know what really burns me up...she fucking loved you until the end."

  If I thought that might touch him in some way and make him feel guilty, I would have been sadly mistaken. He doesn't seem sorry or apologetic.

  "Look," he says brusquely. "I didn't come here to fight."

  "And we're back to the start," I say sarcastically. "Why are you here?"

  "I'm thinking about taking the kids back," he says without looking me in the eye. "You know...take them off your hands."

  "You cannot be fucking serious," I growl at him, some mama grizzly bear rage filling me up.

  "I met someone," he says, still refusing to look me in the eye. "She wants to get married but she doesn't want that damn child support payment hanging over me. And she wants kids...so you know...I figured I'd take the kids back."

  I swear, for a moment I think I might stroke out as my vision goes dim, and then a red pulse of light obscures his shameful face before me. I'm so angry, I'm seeing fucking red.

  I advance toward him a step and poke him in the chest, "You do not just get to decide you want your kids after years of not being there for them, just because you fucking met a woman that wants kids and you don't want to pay child support. That's not how it works."

  "They're my kids," he snarls at me, pushing his body against my finger and causing me to go back a step. "And if I want to take them, I'll take them."

  "You better be prepared to deal with the law then," I warn him. "Because I have legal custody and you signed off on that, or have you forgotten, Dwayne? Those kids are mine in the eyes of the law and if you take them that's kidnapping."

  "Then I'll fight you for them in court," he says darkly, and my insides turn to Jell-O at the thought.

  Still, I tilt my chin up and tell him, "I'll fight you every step of the way. I'll spend every dime I have fighting it."

  "They're my kids," he says angrily.

  "Come on, Dwayne," I say softly, hoping to appeal to his common sense. "You've been out of their life far more than you've been in it. They're excited to see you when you first get here because you do something fun with them or bring them a toy, but then that wears off. They don't know you. And more importantly, you weren't there when their mother died...when they needed you the most."

  He doesn't say anything for a moment, but just looks at the ground.

  Finally, he looks up to me and says, "That's how it's gonna be?"

  I sigh. "Look, if you want some visitation, we can work things out, but you'll have to catch up on the child support. You know the court requires that, and you'll have to pay it going forward. It's not cheap raising three kids, Dwayne, and I've been busting my ass to give them a good life."

  If I expected that to shame him, I'd be wrong about that too, and instead his eyes shimmer with something I can't quite put my finger on. "I see you're fairly cozy with your man."

  My body stiffens but I don't say a word.

  "Max Fournier," Dwayne taunts, and it's clear to me he knows who Max is. "That guy's rolling in dough. I'm quite sure you're not suffering taking care of the kids."

  "I support those kids on my own," I grit out. "Max doesn't give me any money."

  "Maybe," he concedes and then nods at me before turning toward his car. He calls over his shoulder, "But I wonder if he would."

  Well, fuck...what the hell does that mean?

  I stand in Jules' bedroom with her and watch as she stomps back and forth across the carpet. Her hands are balled into fists and her cheeks are bright red with fury.

  "That son of a bitch can't have them," she yells at me, her arms waving wildly to punctuate her resolve.

  "Jules," I say in a lowered voice. "You need to calm down. The kids can hear you."

  She looks chastised and takes three paces to get in my face. She whispers harshly, "He can't do it. That fucking asshole has no right. He can't just waltz back into their lives now that they're settled."

  "Honey..." I try to placate.

  She just hisses at me. "That fucker wants those kids so he doesn't have to pay child support again, and do you think he's going to spend the money on them that they deserve--hell, that they fucking need to survive--if he can't even be bothered to pay a fraction of what they cost in child support?"

  Tears gather in her eyes and she starts shaking. I pull her into me, wrap my arms hard around her as I tell her, "It will be fine. I've got your back. He's not going to do anything."

  She pulls her face back and looks at me, one tear slipping out, and it guts me. "I can't lose them, Max. They're all I have left of Melody. They are Melody. I can't do it."

  She lets a sob out and presses her face into my chest. I hold her there for a minute, and because Jules is one of the strongest women I've ever met, she only submits to her anger and grief for a few moments before she swallows it down and pulls away from me. She rubs her finger under her eyes to wipe away the remaining tears and her voice quavers, "I'm fine."

  "You are not," I mutter and I reach into her back pocket to pull out the phone I know she keeps there. I thrust it into her hands. "Call Tina. Ask if she can watch the kids for an hour. I'm going to take you out to dinner, ply you with a few glasses of wine to relax, and then I'm coming back here with you. I'll sleep on the couch."

  "What?" she says, trying to push the phone back at me. "No. I don't need you to handle me, Max."

  "Yes you fucking do, Jules," I growl at her, refusing to take the phone. "So let me do it. Call Tina. Now."

  I think she might argue but then she just nods at me silently and calls Tina, who fortunately was home. Jules briefly told her about Dwayne's visit and that she needed about an hour to
cool down. Tina gladly agreed and within five minutes she and her son Marshall arrived and I was ushering Jules out the door.

  I take her just about two miles from her apartment complex to a cozy Irish pub that I had spied one evening after I left Jules' apartment and before I hit the I-440 Beltline. It's packed because it's Saturday night but we're able to get a booth in the bar after only about a ten minute wait, and I think it's possibly because I was recognized by the hostess.

  Whatever. I'll gladly take that so I can get Jules settled down.

  A waitress comes quickly and there's no doubt that I've been recognized because she stares at me with wide eyes, gets flustered as she takes our drink orders, and calls me "sir" about twenty times too many.

  Once she leaves, I hold my hand across the table, palm up, and Jules without any further prompting puts her hand in mine.

  I curl my fingers around hers and squeeze gently. "What's your biggest fear?"

  "That the court will give Dwayne the kids," she answers immediately and with no thought.

  "What would he have to do for that to happen?" I ask.

  She shrugs. "Hire a lawyer. File something, I guess. Get it before a judge."

  "And what does he do for a living?"

  "He's a mechanic," she says, her eyebrows knit together. "It's what he did in the Army, but he never holds a job long. He's always off chasing the next piece of tail and he has no qualms with women supporting him."

  "What a loser," I mutter then squeeze her hand again. "Listen...for him to fight for the kids will take money, and he clearly doesn't have it. He can't even pay child support."

  "But maybe that woman he's with will front him the money," she throws out.

  "Um...excuse me, Mr. Fournier," I hear from my right, and my head turns slowly to see a boy of about thirteen sitting there with a pad of paper. A man--I'm guessing his father--stands behind him with his hand on his shoulder. "I'm really sorry to bother you, but do you think I could get your autograph?"

  Inside I'm screaming, No. Fuck off, kid. Can't you see my woman is having a meltdown?

  But there's no way I could ever do that to a fan, much less a nervous-looking kid with stars in his eyes.