Finding Forever

by Gael, Christine

  Max nodded, getting caught up in the tale in spite of herself.

  “Anyway,” Ian continued, “I just loved the idea that you could go somewhere, let all the pressures of work and life melt away, and play make believe like that. It’s like living your own adventure, even if it’s just for an hour. I think that’s as important for adults as it is for kids – it’s easy to forget how to have fun. You have to find those moments when you can.” He broke off with a chuckle. Sorry,” he said, sounding a little sheepish. “I’m rambling.”

  “It’s okay,” Max said, and meant it. He was reminding her how she felt when she was talking about the bookstore. It didn’t take a genius to get a sense of the passion he felt for this venture. It was endearing, but also frustrating. It would have been so much better if he was a corporate profiteer, capitalizing on a trend and sinking small businesses like Max’s.

  Maybe then she wouldn’t have such a hard time pulling her eyes away from him.

  “So,” she said, clearing her throat as she tried to parse through her increasingly-jumbled thoughts, “what’s the theme of this room?”

  “Why don’t you see for yourself?” Ian asked, grinning, and stepped aside to reveal the title on this last door: Through the Looking Glass.

  He pushed the door open and she stepped inside to find herself in a sea of bright colors; oversized, distorted furniture filled the room, which was painted in a red and white tile pattern. Clocks showing different times decorated the walls, each one of a different size, and the forced perspective gave the whole place the illusion of being bigger than it was. Technicolor mushrooms dotted the perimeter of the space, and an image of a caterpillar smoking a hookah was splashed across the ceiling. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that it felt like being plunged directly into Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

  “Wow,” Max breathed. She couldn’t help it.

  Ian smiled at her. “As you move through the different rooms, you’ll be following Alice on her adventures.”

  “And I have to solve puzzles to move forward in the story?”

  “Right,” Ian said, nodding, and pointed to a table in the far corner. On it was a bottle labeled DRINK ME. “For example, there’s a key in that bottle, but it isn’t the door key. There are five locked chests and things to open in this room alone, before you get through the next door.”

  “And you really expect people to do this in under an hour?” Max asked incredulously.

  “Well,” Ian said, quirking an eyebrow at her, “that’s the idea, yes. Usually, it takes four people or more. And the game master would be able to give you clues if you get stuck.”

  Max followed him as he led her from room to room, marveling at the size of the place. It was like a labyrinth, and the idea that each of the other rooms in the hallway led somewhere equally complex was almost mind-boggling.

  If this was just one of the games, no wonder he wanted a whole strip mall, she thought.

  They moved through scenes of the caterpillar’s forest, the mad tea party, and finally, the queen’s castle. Each one was equally-intricately crafted, with tapestries illustrating the classic tale scattered throughout. Each room had some sort of trick to opening the door, which, according to Ian, could only be discovered by following the clues in the rooms. It was astounding how much time, effort, and care had obviously been put into designing it.

  “This is amazing,” Max said, turning in a circle to drink in the castle in which they now stood. “You must have hired some great people to come up with this design.”

  “Yeah?” Ian ran a hand through his dark waves. “You think so?”

  “I mean, yeah.” She gestured around the room. “The craftsmanship of the sets is fantastic, but that’s not it. The story is immersive, and the idea that you’re working it into these puzzles is… amazingly creative. Did you hire locally or?”

  “Actually, I guess I did, since I’m a local now.”

  “Wait…what?” Max’s jaw might as well have been on the floor. “You did all this…yourself?”

  He shrugged, a boyish grin on his face that was enough to make her insides turn to mush – as much as she fought the sensation.

  “Yep,” he said, touching one of the chairs against the far wall. “That was the easier part, though – coming up with the puzzles is hard, and making them all fit with the story is… Well… let’s just say it’s time-consuming and my golf game is in the crapper.”

  “I’m impressed,” Max told him sincerely. She couldn’t think of anything else to say. It would have been astonishing even if he’d had a whole team helping him, but having come up with this all by himself. She had just assumed he’d used his silver spoon to stir this magic into existence. The truth was sobering, to say the least.

  This had been a painstaking labor of love. Just like the bookstore had been for her.

  Max wandered the room for a moment, still drinking in the decor in amazement, but paused when she arrived at a particular ornate table. Squinting for a moment, she thought she recognized the style – the baroque curls and intricately carved designs.

  No way.

  She turned back to him. “D-did you also make that chair in your office?” Biting her lip, she added, “The one I banged my knee on the other day.”

  “I did, yes,” Ian replied, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

  “You are a special talent, Ian.” She wasn’t sure when he’d stopped being Mr. Thackery, but it had definitely happened somewhere along the line. “And you’re planning on recreating this in the strip-mall?”

  “That’s the plan,” he replied, nodding. “And then I want to install all the rest. I’d been looking for the right location for months, with no luck. I had bought this space a few years back and hadn’t done anything with it yet. I figured rather than keep putting the project off, I could start building out the prototypes here so that, when I did find the right space, I’d be ready.”

  She had to ask.

  “And this isn’t a good place for the business because…?”

  He sent her an apologetic smile. “It’s only large enough for the Alice rooms. The other spaces are basically the size of large storage closets, and won’t work.” He was gesturing as he explained the layout, and if there had been any doubt left in Max’s mind about his commitment to seeing this through, it vanished. “Anyway, I’m talking your ear off now,” Ian said, crossing his arms. “Want to solve one of the puzzles?”

  Max raised her eyebrows. “That depends. Will I be able to?”

  He chuckled. “Here, I’ll give you a hint: the combination is somewhere in here.” He gestured to a large, desk , letting her take a step forward and examine the contents.

  It was a mess of clutter – keys, rubber bands, teacups – and that was before she opened the drawers. “You’re kidding me,” Max said. “How would I know which thing is a clue?”

  “Just think about the story,” Ian insisted. “You remember how it ends, right? How Alice gets out of Wonderland?” He came up behind her and took a look over her shoulder. Max was very aware of how close he was to her, so much so that she could feel the heat coming off of his body. This wasn’t doing great things for her focus.

  Stifling a shiver, she began to rummage in the drawer. How did the story end? She hadn’t read it since she was in high school, but the ending… Suddenly, she grinned, withdrawing a pack of Bicycle playing cards. As soon as she had taken them out of the box, she caught a glimpse of a four-number combination, which she rushed to punch into the keypad on the door. There was a tense moment of expectation, and then the light turned green and there was the sound of the lock clicking open.

  Max turned back around and put her hands on her hips, a triumphant smile on her face. “‘You’re nothing but a deck of playing cards’,” she quoted.

  Ian grinned. “You did it!”

  “Thank you,” Max said. “I mean it, Ian. I… Thank you for showing me this.”

  “It was my pleasure,” he replied, and led her back through the ma
ze of rooms and into the entryway. Max realized that her shoulders were more relaxed now, the tension in her stomach having unwound at some point during the tour. She felt like she got him better now. That had made the anger subside, but in truth, that only made her situation more difficult.

  Now that she had seen how hard he’d worked to achieve his dream, was she willing to keep fighting him to keep her own? Was she more deserving than he was, for some reason?

  She shook her head, not wanting to go there now. At least she could enjoy this for what it had been – not a date, but an experience in getting to know a man she, up until very recently, would’ve happily teleported off the face of the earth.

  “Well,” she said, putting her hands in her pockets, suddenly feeling awkward. “I guess I’d better get out of your hair.”

  “Do you have to go right now?” Ian asked. When he saw her questioning look, he said, “I don’t want to be presumptuous, but I was kind of hoping you would let me feed you.”

  “Feed me?” Max asked. Ian didn’t reply, instead pulling open another door to reveal a room that was unfurnished except for a low table surrounded by cushions. The ceiling was painted to look like outer space, with glow in the dark stars, galaxies, and planets in different colors.

  She sniffed the air and realized the paint was fresh.

  “Did you—did you just do this?” she asked, shooting him a suspicious glance.

  A slightly-chagrined look appeared on Ian’s face, and he held his hands out; for the first time, Max noticed that one hand was spattered with paint.

  “I just finished this afternoon,” he confessed.

  “Well,” Max said, “how am I supposed to say no now?”

  As if on cue, there was a knock at the main door. Ian retreated for a moment to answer it, leaving Max to gape at his obvious artistic talent. When Ian reappeared, he was carrying two takeout bags. “I hope you like Japanese,” he said.

  Max snorted. “You must have been pretty confident I would say yes.”

  “Well,” he replied, chuckling, “worst case, I figured I would have leftovers for lunch tomorrow. Believe me, Japanese food will never go to waste on my watch.”

  Ian led her into the room, giving her a chance to take a seat on the pillows as he laid out a spread of sushi, noodles, tempura, sake, and hot tea. Then he took a seat across from her. The conversation flowed as easily as the food and drink. They discussed her bookstore some more, and she even found herself talking a bit about her family. The time seemed to melt away under the softly-glowing stars on the ceiling.

  This isn’t a date, Max reminded as she looked into Ian’s dark eyes. Up until today, he had been the enemy.

  Now, though, he was just another person. A man with hopes and dreams that just happened to conflict with her own.

  “So what about your parents?” she asked, shoving her chaotic thoughts away as she picked up a spicy tuna roll smothered in wasabi. “Are they involved in this venture at all?”

  Ian frowned. “No. Not even a little bit.”

  “Really?” Max blinked. “That’s kind of… I mean, I’m just a little surprised. I would have thought they’d help you get on your feet with a startup like this.”

  He shook his head. “The truth is,” he said, “I don’t agree with my parents’ way of doing business. I never have, actually. I’ve worked to support myself ever since I graduated from college. I want to make my own way in life, and I sure as hell don’t want to be stuck under their thumbs.”

  Max could almost feel her admiration for him growing in real time. “What about your siblings?” Max asked. “You mentioned you have a brother and sister, right?”

  Ian nodded, and then sighed, shaking his head. “We’re good,” he said. “I mean, I love them. But I’ve always had the sense that they don’t really get it, you know? They’re happy to stay in the fold under our parents’ wing.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s normal and I’m the weird one.”

  “I don’t think you’re weird, Ian Thackery,” Max replied softly.

  Their gazes locked and a shiver ran over her.

  “Max…I really l--”

  “Can you pass me the noodles?” she blurted all-too breathlessly.

  This was way too much, too fast. She had barely reconciled the fact that he wasn’t a monster out to ruin her. Now, he was staring at her with that soft, sensual look in his eyes.

  Nope. Whatever he’d been about to say, she so wasn’t ready to hear it.

  Ever the gentleman, Ian let her off the hook and turned his attention to the noodles. To her everlasting relief, he kept the conversation light and neutral for the rest of the meal and she found herself relaxing once again.

  By the time the conversation slowed and her bottom started to fall asleep, it was well after nine. Ian walked her to her car, his hands in his pockets.

  “Well,” he said, turning to her as they reached her driver’s side door, “that turned out to be a lot of fun, Max. Thanks for agreeing to come.”

  “Yeah,” Max agreed, smiling. “I had a good time, too. And thank you for the dinner, Ian.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, and then added in a low voice, “I’d do it again, you know. If you wanted to.”

  “Ian, I’m not sure if…”

  She broke off and craned her neck to stare up at him.

  Lord, was he handsome.

  “Max?”

  His low, husky voice sent a thrill rolling through her and, as he shuffled closer, she couldn’t bring herself to move away. He was within inches of touching her, his firm mouth just a breath away.

  “Um, so I’ll call you later. Not later, but like, another day,” she mumbled, reaching behind her to yank open her car door. “S-see ya later, alligator,” she stammered as she climbed into her car.

  His lips twitched as he nodded. “Bye, Max.”

  And then she was off, almost like she was late for a very important date. She couldn’t stop herself from glancing back at him in her rearview mirror. He was watching her go, his expression unreadable, as she sped away.

  It wasn’t until she got to the stoplight that she allowed herself to slump forward and press her forehead against the steering wheel.

  “’See ya later, alligator?’” she groaned with a semi-hysterical laugh. “Oh, Maxy, you are in trouble, aren’t you?”

  13

  Stephanie

  “Are you sure I can’t give you a hand with that?” Ethan asked, sidling up next to Stephanie and putting his chin on her shoulder. A smile stretched her lips as his strong arms encircled her. He drew her flush against his chest as she stirred the sauce that was simmering on the stove.

  “Nah,” she said, hoping she sounded breezy. “It’s just pasta. Easy, peasy.”

  “I just feel bad watching you cook while I’m sitting around doing nothing.”

  Steph gave his arm a little pat. “That’s called being a couple, Ethan. Sometimes you do stuff, sometimes I do stuff.”

  There was a rumble in his chest as he chuckled, nuzzling his face into the back of her neck and giving her a squeeze before letting go.

  “So how was your day?” he asked, moving away from her and dropping into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “I feel like I’ve been going on so much about the Peterson case, I haven’t even asked you how you’ve been doing. Work is good?”

  Stephanie blanched a little at this, and was glad he was no longer close enough to see her expression. Aside from having a panic attack over a noise in the alleyway and her trying not to fall asleep between patients due to nightmare induced exhaustion, sure. Work was just swell.

  “Yeah, same as always,” she said, not turning around.

  “You sure?” Ethan pressed.

  For a brief, panicked moment, Steph wondered if he had caught on to something. She’d been doing her best to come across as normal, and she thought she had been doing a decent job of it so far. Ethan had been assigned as the lead officer in charge of a racketeering investigation, which had left
him with little free time. Between his long hours and overall mental fatigue, he hadn’t seemed to pick up on the fact that she was struggling. If it was up to her, she wanted to keep it that way.

  She glanced over her shoulder to find him studying her intently.

  “I’m good,” she murmured, forcing a smile. His expression was so loving it almost made her want to burst into tears. She took a shaky breath and added, “Don’t worry about me. I’m just distracted with Pop and all. It’s nothing I can’t handle. Focus on your case. You’re in the thick of it.”

  Yeah, piped a tiny voice in her mind. You and him both.

  Ethan leaned back, stretching over the back of the chair with a yawn. “We’re partners, babe. We worry about each other sometimes. But if you say you’re good, I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Yup, doing fine.” She swallowed the rush of guilt and turned her attention back to the bubbling sauce.

  Sometimes she wondered why she was hiding her troubles from this man she had come to love, something she hadn’t thought possible after Paul had died. Things were so good between them. So easy, and comfortable. The last thing she wanted to do was jeopardize that.

  In spite of her efforts to act like nothing was wrong, though, she was definitely fraying at the edges. Her little visit from Anna earlier was a clear indicator she wasn’t fooling everyone.

  Her sister was perceptive, and their history spanned five decades, which was more than could be said for Ethan. But if things were getting to the point that Anna was crawling into bed with her, doing her best to reassure her even though she couldn’t possibly understand what was going on in Steph’s head? Well, it wouldn’t be long before Ethan picked up on it. He was a detective, after all. She needed to get it together, and fast.

  The sound of the timer going off broke through her maudlin thoughts, and she took the pasta off the stove, dumping it into the waiting strainer in the sink before tossing it with the sauce she had heated up. She brought two heaping plates to the table, smiling at the way Ethan’s face lit up when there was food in front of him.