“It’s not that easy.”
“No, it’s an easy enough thing to figure out. It’s you who brings the difficulty into the equation.” Kate gave a name to the hostess, who searched her book before leading us into the restaurant.
“I don’t know,” I hissed at Kate when she threw me a look over her shoulder.
“No, you know. You just think you don’t. Either you know you don’t love him and are afraid to tell him. Or you know you do love him and are afraid to tell him. Of those two possibilities, which is the most likely?” Kate spun around, tapping her chin, as we moved through the restaurant. “It’s obvious to me.”
Ignoring her comment, I waved her into the booth the hostess stopped at. I wanted an outside seat for a quick escape.
“You should sit on the other side,” she said.
“I will not sit on the other side.” I slid in beside her, and my leg started to bounce as I stared at the empty booth seat across from us.
“Come on. Relax. It’s just a double date, not a bikini wax.” Kate nudged me. “This will help, trust me.”
“How’s this supposed to help me again?” As I took a sip of the water, my gaze moved toward the entrance. I needed to know my escape route.
“Dean is a totally great guy. He works at the same firm as Carter, went to a good school, has his own place, and volunteers every other weekend at a soup kitchen. He’s date potential gold.”
My brow lifted at her. “And you know this because you’ve been dating his friend for all of three and a half weeks?”
She gave me a tight smile. “I know this because I have a keen sense for these kinds of things.”
“And how is Date Potential Gold supposed to help me decide how I feel about Max?”
“Because if you can’t feel anything for Dean the stud, that tells us something.”
“What does it tell us?” I grumbled.
“You can’t move on from Max.”
I blinked at her. “And this tells me what?”
She scooted down so she’d put some space between us. “That you love him.” She was just bracing for my punch when she locked on something at the restaurant entrance. “And how’s that for good timing?” Shooting her arm up, she hailed the two guys hovering there over.
My throat turned into a tube of sandpaper. This was not what I needed right now, no matter what Kate’s reasons were. Some other guy wasn’t going to help me figure out how I felt about Max.
“You’ve still got your engagement ring on,” Kate hissed when I reached for my water glass.
“I can’t get it off,” I whispered.
“Can’t? Or won’t?” As the two approached, she smiled like we weren’t talking about anything more serious than what appetizer to order.
“I’ve tried butter, ice water, everything. It won’t come off.” I glanced at the ring still on my hand. It was like my hands had decided to swell ever since the wedding day. Short of yanking off my finger or having the ring cut, I’d tried everything to remove it. The darn thing was stuck.
“Just keep your hand under the table then.” Kate grabbed my hand and stuffed it into my lap right as the guys stopped at the table. She leaned over the table to give Carter a kiss as he slid into the booth.
Dean hovered beside me, shifting like he might have been as uncomfortable as I was. “This is my first one of these and I’m probably going to mess something up, so you have my permission to just splash your drink in my face when I do, ‘kay?”
Whether it was the self-depreciation or the discomfort he was smothering under, I found myself relaxing. A little. “I’ll probably do the same, so that permission thing goes both ways.”
Dean smiled as he slid into the seat across from me, nodding hello at Kate. He was cute—I guessed that was the word for it—and dressed more like a college kid than the lawyer he was, but I couldn’t help comparing him to Max. From the drink he ordered when the waiter came to the table, to the way his laugh was loud, like it was for everyone to hear instead of just the person he meant it for. He was shorter, slouched his shoulders a little, hands weren’t as big—not one thing I observed about Dean didn’t make me think of Max. If Kate’s plan had been to fuck with my head, she’d nailed it.
“So what do you do, Nina?” Dean leaned into the table, putting his elbows on it. Max never put his elbows on the table.
My jaw ground. Enough Max for one night.
“I actually just enrolled at PCC for summer quarter to get some basic classes out of the way before I transfer to a four-year. But to pay the bills in the mean time, I work a few nights at a coffee stand across the river and walk dogs during the day.”
“Nice. I got my AA at PCC. It’s a great school. What do you want to do after?” Dean took a sip of his beer, looking genuinely interested, but I couldn’t help thinking about how Max had been appalled when he found out where I worked late at night, instead of replying with a Nice.
“I don’t know yet. We’ll see when I get there. One step at a time.” My eyes wandered the restaurant, searching. I wasn’t sure for what.
“Kate told me you got out of a serious relationship pretty recently. How are you doing?”
Kate had started swiping her hand across her neck at Dean the second “serious” came out of his mouth, but he missed it. He didn’t seem to realize his question was hitting sensitive ground until he took a good look at me.
Dean set down his beer as Carter shook his head. “And this is why I’m single. I have no filter for what’s acceptable first date conversation and what isn’t.”
Clearing my throat, I started to slide out of the booth. It wasn’t so much what he’d said that had upset me; it was how being in front of a different man made thinking about him that much more painful.
“Excuse me for a minute.” When Kate started to slide out with me, I shook my head. “I just need to grab a breath of fresh air. I’ll be right back.”
Dean turned in his seat as I left, regret creasing his forehead, but thankfully he stayed at the table. I needed to be alone. Just long enough to catch my breath and reconnect with reality.
The lobby was busy with people, but I kept my head down and focused on making it to the doors. Fresh air was less than twenty feet away. I’d just made it to the door I was about to pull open when someone else opened it from outside.
He didn’t notice me at first; he was holding the door open for someone who I thought was me at first. But then I realized he wasn’t looking at me—he was looking at someone else.
As the woman passed Max, she gave him a smile that looked like it wasn’t meant to be seen by anyone else. She passed me in a swirl of silk and skin. She was the female version of Max—commanding, confident, and striking.
Trying to duck my head and turn so I could save us both this awkward run-in, I didn’t make it a step.
“Nina?” Max’s voice rolled over me, making me feel a hundred things all at once.
Lifting my shoulders, I turned back around. “Max.”
“What are you doing here?” He stepped in front of me, looking like the man I remembered but a roughed-up version. His eyes looked duller and his suit didn’t look so pristine, but that might have had to do with the way he was holding himself—less like he was unbreakable and more like he’d tried to restack the pieces after crumbling.
“Eating dinner.” My thumb went over my shoulder toward the restaurant. I tried to ignore the woman I could feel lingering behind me, waiting for him. “What about you?”
“Dropping someone off,” he said, still looking at me like he couldn’t quite decide if it was really me standing in front of him.
“Oh, well, since you’re coming in and I’m going out”—my hand flashed between us—“I’ll let you go. Good seeing you.”
God, Nina. Could you sound any less moronic?
“You haven’t cashed the check yet.” He slid a hand into his pocket and shrugged. “Why?”
A one-million-dollar check had been sitting in a blank envelope on my dining r
oom table the morning after the wedding disaster. No note. No explanation. Just a check with a hell of a lot of zeros.
It was still tucked in the cupboard above the fridge. I had no plans of ever cashing it, so I didn’t know why I hadn’t ripped it up or burned it already.
“Because we had a deal and that deal fell through.”
“Because of me. You would have held up your end of the agreement if it wasn’t for what I did that day. You deserve that money, Nina. I insist you cash it.”
Having him close like this was dangerous. I could smell the spicy hints of his aftershave, see the flecks of silver in his light eyes; I could almost feel the warmth of his hands on my body. That pull toward him was just as strong as ever, weeks later, even after what he’d done.
“Your stuff. You know you can swing by and get it whenever you want.” I stepped back to give myself a cushion of space.
Max erased that cushion. “You mean you haven’t thrown it out in the street yet?”
When he tried to smile, I tried with him. “Not yet.”
“Surely the pool table’s been hacked into pieces though?”
When I shook my head, Max’s brows rose.
“Good memories, I guess,” I said right before I remembered one of the creative ways we’d found to use a pool table. “You know, good memories playing pool. Playing with sticks . . . balls . . .”—just shut up already—“scoring.” When Max’s mouth twitched in amusement, I groaned. “And shutting up now. I need to go. Before I say anything else stupid.”
Max moved with me when I started to leave. “I miss you, Nina.”
“Max—” I warned, shaking my head. I couldn’t do this. Even though I missed him and this awkward conversation was the height of my month, I couldn’t. He knew how he felt, or at least how he had. I didn’t know. I wouldn’t put either of us through more pain until I knew for sure.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed, his forehead creasing when he saw the look on my face. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”
Before I could say anything, Max’s eyes locked onto something on my hand. My left hand. His brow furrowed.
Curling my hand around the door handle, I started to shove it open, not missing the woman still hovering in the lobby. “See you around.”
“She’s my cousin,” Max said suddenly as I stepped outside. His gaze flickered to the girl hovering in the lobby, waiting for him. “She wanted to come visit the States, and I told my aunt and uncle I’d look after her. She’s my cousin.”
My chest shouldn’t have felt like a boulder had just been lifted off it, but it did. “Oh.” I was chalking up the brilliant responses one after one.
“Yeah, I just didn’t want you to think I was that guy who was on the rebound that soon after . . . you know.” He swallowed. “I wouldn’t want you to think I could just move on so quickly after everything.” His gaze dropped as something pulled at his face. Looked like pain.
Say something, Nina. Something. Anything. Everything.
When his eyes returned to mine, I saw the same question in them I’d heard the day of our wedding that never happened.
Do you love me?
The suddenness of my answer shocked me.
That was when I noticed a familiar face come around Max. Could his timing really be that terrible?
“Hey, Nina, I’m sorry. I feel like an idiot.” Either not acknowledging Max or not noticing we were having a conversation, Dean placed himself between Max and me. “Please come back to dinner. I promise not to say anything unless I run it through a dozen different filters first.”
I wasn’t looking at Dean—I was watching Max. Darkness shadowed his expression, which was replaced by something else a moment later. Something I’d never once seen on Max Sturm’s face—defeat.
“I better move on,” Max said briskly, turning away. “It appears you already have.”
The feeling of knowing you’re in a nightmare but can’t wake up because you’re already awake—that’s been my existence for the past two months. Ever since the day I told Nina how I really felt. Ever since the day Nina wouldn’t tell me how she really did.
Nothing had gotten easier with time, my feelings hadn’t dimmed from separation, and my life hadn’t gotten back to normal. I still felt a crater had been carved out of me and I no idea how to fill it back in.
Staring into my untouched drink, twisting the glass around in my hands, I ran through the maze of what-ifs like I did every day. What if I’d told her sooner and given her time to think about it? What if I hadn’t told her at all and she’d figured it out on her own instead? What if we’d kept to the deal, despite my confession? What if extra time was all Nina needed to realize she felt the same way?
What I’d come to accept from making frequent visits to the realm of what-if was that I’d done what I had for Nina, not for me.
It was the least selfish thing I’d ever done. It was also the hardest. Because I’d lost her.
But I’d also set her free.
I’d given her the freedom I was planning to exchange one million dollars for. She was free to do what she wanted without the worry of financial burdens and without the strain of being tied to a man she didn’t want to be with for the next two years.
I’d done the right thing.
I’d never felt so wrong.
Time to take that first drink. Before my thoughts became any darker. My face puckered when I took a sip. The finest scotch in this kind of place was a little different than the best scotch in the places I was used to ordering a drink at. I didn’t even know why I’d stepped into this sports bar. It was loud and swarmed by young kids drinking beer and cheering the mix of games playing on the dozen televisions staggered around. I looked to be the only person in a suit, and certainly the only one in a foul mood.
Sitting at a tall table positioned into the back of the place, my jaw ground when another group of rowdy college-types shoved through the front door, laughing and behaving like life was one big party. Bracing myself for the taste, I drained another sip of the “scotch.”
I needed to get out of there. The whole reason I’d stepped inside was because I’d hoped all of the noise would help drown out the noise in my head. For whatever reason, it only made it worse. With the increase in volume outside, the volume inside dialed up too. This had been a bad idea.
Nothing could drown out the regret and heartache. Nothing other than her, but since I hadn’t heard from Nina once in two months’ time, and the one time we had run into each other had been when she’d been with someone else, the chances of Nina coming back into my life were slim to non-existent.
The rowdy newcomers found a table more toward the front of the bar, but their noise still echoed around the big space. Happy people pissed me off. It didn’t used to be that way—it never had—but now when I saw someone who appeared happy, I fought the urge to flip them my middle finger.
The booze must have been working, because where my conscience usually reined in my impulse, this time, it fell short. Lifting my arm, I raised my middle finger and waved it at the loud group just getting their drinks.
At the same moment, I felt it. That feeling of someone whispering my name in a packed room of people. The shock of electricity that felt as though it were coiling around my spine.
Nina.
My gaze had just found her when she saw me—her face that same screen of shocked I imagined mine was. That was when she noticed my finger. Shock faded to ire.
Dammit, Max. Now you’re going to have to go over there and apologize and try to explain yourself. Glaring into my drink, I was just shoving out of my stool when she stopped at my table.
“What was that for?” Nina’s hands were on her hips, her eyes glazed over from what I guessed was, in her case, one sip too many. Besides appearing tipsy, she looked beautiful. The kind that made breathing difficult.
“It wasn’t you I was flipping off—”
“Yes, it was. You were looking right at me.” She tapped the table with her
palms. “And I wasn’t the one who called off the wedding. That merit badge belongs to you.”
“Nina—”
She waved me off, her hand flying back to her hip. “You know, you want to flip me off for trying to hold up my end of our agreement? Fine. Go ahead.” She held out her arms, swaying enough I knew she was likely more than just tipsy. “I’ll flip you off for not holding up your end of our agreement.” Lifting her arm between us, she waved her middle finger in my face.
I shouldn’t have smiled, but I did. I didn’t have a choice. Having her close, acknowledging me—garnering some kind of feeling from her—was the best moment I’d had in two months. And my happiness was thanks to the girl I still loved holding her middle finger two feet from my face in some crappy bar where she was drunk enough she probably wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning.
Without another word or gesture, she marched back to the group she’d arrived with. The shadow of a smile stayed on my face as I watched her walk away. Nothing had changed between us, but I’d gotten to see her and exchange a clipped conversation—these days, that was a win.
I’d been planning on leaving once I’d forced down the last of my drink, but now that she was here, I wasn’t going anywhere. Being in the same space with her, loud and packed as it was, was infinitely better than anything else I had to look forward to tonight.
Watching her made me happy. Happy to see her out with other people, talking and enjoying herself. I’d been worried about her living alone in that house with no one other than Kate checking in on her. But there she was, out on a Friday night, with a group of friends, drinking and laughing.
Nina was resilient. She’d be okay.
At least one of us would be.
The guy I’d seen her with in the hotel that night wasn’t there—that might have been the first thing I’d checked after the shock of seeing her had worn off. I didn’t know who he was or how serious Nina was about him or if they were even still together—it didn’t matter. If I’d seen him beside her tonight, I would have said or done something I’d regret.