by Mia Sosa
Rebecca stares at my hand, her brows drawn together. “Not so fast, Lina. We’re not done here. I view this as part of your interview. I said I’d take everything into account when I make my decision, and that’s still the case.” She raises her chin and studies me. “Unless you want to withdraw your name from consideration?”
“Absolutely not,” I say without hesitation. “I’d still like to be considered. Thank you.”
She waves my thanks away. “Tell Max he’s off the hook. For now. As far as anyone’s concerned, I know nothing. I’ll leave it up to you to work things out with him and Andrew.”
I nod. “I appreciate the chance, Rebecca.”
“Frankly, I hope you wow me during the presentation,” she says. “Because this has been . . . a lot.”
I couldn’t agree more. But if Max and I focus on putting together a kick-ass presentation, we just might get what we want after all.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Max
The intercom beeps and Sammy’s voice fills my office. “Max, there’s someone here who claims the two of you are best friends. He also says you’ve been doing a poor job of playing your part in the relationship.”
I shake my head. What a needy bastard. “Tell him to come on back, Sammy.”
Less than ten seconds later, Dean appears in my doorway wearing a cocky grin and a three-piece suit.
“It’s spring, man,” I tell him. “The vest is overkill.”
He glides into my office and plops onto a guest chair. “I didn’t come here for you to pick apart my wardrobe choices.”
I get up and close the door—largely for insurance, because one never knows what’s going to come out of Dean’s mouth. “Why are you here, then?”
Steepling his fingers, he leans his elbows on his thighs and stares at me. “I’ve been trying to figure out why I haven’t heard from you in a week and a half. It’s cool if we don’t see each other every day, of course, but we do have a weekly basketball engagement—which is my only form of exercise, by the way—and for the first time in forever you were a no-show. So I was trying to figure out what might be occupying your time.” He sits up. “And a light bulb went off. He’s spending a lot of time with Lina, working diligently on the Cartwright proposal, I thought. Then I asked myself, ‘Self, if Max is spending a lot of time with Lina, what’s a possible scenario that would lead Max to ignore his best friend?’ And it came to me”—he pretends to crack a whip—“like a bolt of lightning, it came to me: Max and Lina are doing the horizontal samba.”
I sigh. “It’s the horizontal mambo, dipshit.”
He puts up a finger. “First of all, she’s Brazilian American, so we’re going with the samba. I looked that shit up. Second of all, that’s all you have to say?”
I scrub a hand over my face. When God was handing out best friends, I should have asked more questions about this one’s qualifications. Dean consistently offers a baffling mix of sage advice and questionable commentary, the latter always making me question whether I should take the former. In any case, I can’t trade him in. “All right. Here’s the deal. We went on a little trip and things happened.”
“Things happened?” he asks, raising both brows.
“And they’re still happening. That’s really all I can tell you.”
“No, it’s not,” Dean says. “I don’t need a blow-by-blow, but you can tell me what you’re thinking. You know, drop a hint or two about your plans with this woman.”
I can’t help chuckling at the mock indignation in his voice. “Are you asking me if my intentions are honorable?”
He shrugs. “Something like that. And not just for her sake but for your sake, too.”
There’s no question Dean cares. I shouldn’t be so hard on the guy. But this isn’t the place to talk about Lina and me. And besides, I can’t make plans with Lina if she and I don’t make them together. “Man, I don’t have any answers. I just know I like her. Way more than I probably should at this point.”
He nods. “So how does your brother factor into this?”
I swipe up a pen from my desk and twirl it with my fingers. “He hasn’t so far. We don’t talk about him much. When we’re together, it’s just us, no one else. I’m not thinking about Andrew, and neither is she. I mean, depending on how things go, we’ll need to tell Andrew what’s going on. As a courtesy or something. But in the meantime, I’m focused on Lina.”
“Well, what about all the stuff we discussed?” Dean asks. “The reasons you shouldn’t be together. Getting out from your brother’s shadow. Your family. The competition between you and Andrew. Is all that immaterial now?”
“All of it still matters,” I tell him. “It just doesn’t matter as much as I thought it would. For one, I’m not interested in competing with Andrew anymore. Lina says I need to be in competition with myself, with the best possible version of me out here. And she’s right.”
Dean nods. “I like this woman.”
“Plus, as far as I’m concerned, Andrew’s just a guy she dated a long time ago. Every person has a dating history. Lina’s just happens to include my older brother in the mix.”
“What about your parents?” Dean asks.
“My father won’t care. My mother will adjust. And who knows? Maybe she’ll get to be Lina’s mother-in-law after all.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Is that where this is headed?”
I shake my head. “Not yet, no. Still, who’s to say it can’t happen someday? Look, I’m not going to lie and say none of it matters. But if I want to be in this relationship badly enough, and I do, I’ll figure out how to deal with the issues that can’t be easily set aside.”
I replay my own words in my head: If I want to be in this relationship badly enough, and I do . . .
Why the hell am I sitting here talking to Dean about this? I need to speak with Lina and tell her that I want more than a fling, regardless of the obstacles. There’s no reason we can’t have a future together—if we both want it.
The way Dean’s frowning at me dampens my excitement, though. “What’s that face for? Say what’s on your mind.”
Dean sighs. “I don’t know, Max. That stuff that went down with Emily made you question your own worth. I’m just worried you’re glossing over that and not thinking about how it could mess you up here.”
Emily did mess me up. I mean, it’s not every day someone you’ve dated for a year tells you she wished she’d met your older brother first. But Lina’s over Andrew. It’s not the same situation at all. “Yeah, I hear you. And look, if I had any inkling that Lina’s still interested in Andrew, I might think differently, but she doesn’t seem even remotely interested in rekindling a relationship with him. That’s good enough for me.” I jump up from my chair. “Dean, I need to go.”
I’m at the door, opening it wide, when he asks where the hell I’m going. “If I want to be in this relationship, I need to tell her, don’t you think?”
“Tell whom what?” my mother asks outside my office. “Are you dating someone and didn’t even tell me?”
Shit. I don’t need this right now. I put my hands on her shoulders. “Mom, I love you. And I promise I’ll explain. But I need to do something before I chicken out.”
She cups my chin and grins. “Well, look at you. Someone’s smitten.”
My mother never engages in office displays of affection with Andrew or me. It figures that the prospect of my getting serious with someone would make her break her personal rule.
She raises her chin, pretending to be offended by my silence. “Well, fine. Do what you need to do. But let me ask you this: Have you seen your brother? There are papers for the presentation to the Cartwright strewn around the conference room.”
“Saw him pacing in that same room on my way in,” Dean says.
“No clue where he could be,” I tell my mother. Then I glance at Dean, who’s hunched over in the chair and massaging the back of his neck. “Dean, chill. It’ll all work out. Let’s meet for b-ball later this week.�
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He waves at me dismissively and puts a hand to his forehead. Which I’m going to ignore. Because right now, I’m focused on telling Lina how I feel, and I can’t let Dean’s worries drag me down.
* * *
As I’m climbing into the Lyft, it occurs to me that my plan to lay my heart on the line is flawed for at least two reasons: I’m still waiting to hear the outcome of Lina’s meeting with Rebecca, and I don’t know if Lina’s at work. If the meeting didn’t go well, I won’t be making any grand declarations today. So I send her a carefully worded text to get the information I need while also concealing my intent to surprise her.
Me: Hey, L. Back from your meeting with Rebecca yet?
Lina: Was just going to text you. Great minds . . . Yes, back at the shop. Meeting went well. Want to talk about it over lunch?
Now that she’s extended the invitation, there’s no point in hiding the ball.
Me: Perfect. I can drop by in 20 minutes.
Lina: How? Aren’t you at the office?
Me: I’m in a Lyft. Already on my way.
Lina: Ok. See you soon then.
Me:
