“Dammit.” How could the whole world be connected, and he couldn’t find the only person on earth he cared about finding? His studio apartment felt too small, and the world felt too big.
He closed his laptop and pushed it aside. Leaning his head against the back of his chair, Max let his gaze wander to the bike parked in his entryway. A ride around Central Park would clear his head and help him sort out what to do next. He wasn’t ready to give up on finding Sutton.
Without checking the weather or bothering to change into something better suited to biking than jeans, he slung his bike on his shoulder and headed down the stairs. The lightbulb moment he was hoping for came before he made it out of his building.
Max had one more chance to connect with Sutton in her language: pictures. The wedding app hadn’t closed, and Sutton would eventually see all the photos uploaded to Dahlia’s website, if she hadn’t already. Maybe he could help her get to know him a little better.
If she’d seen the pictures he’d uploaded to the wedding site she knew that he liked chocolate, stars, and fireflies, but not fish. She even knew his phone number.
But she didn’t know him. Not really. He’d seen her in her environment doing what she loved; maybe she needed to see him in his city doing what he loved. Maybe seeing that would make her feel safe enough to call him. Maybe knowing he lived in another city would be enough distance for her to not feel threatened by him. They could get to know each other slowly, long distance . . .
Maybe.
Unless, of course, she was married.
That thought didn’t feel right to him. He might be crazy for not believing Deacon, but Sutton didn’t seem like the kind of girl who’d dance with him all night if she were married. She seemed like the kind of girl who had a reason for not giving out her name or number. And maybe that reason was that she’d been in a bad marriage, not because she was still married. And Hadley definitely didn’t seem like the kind of little girl who had a loving father, not with the way she’d attached herself to him so quickly.
He took a picture outside his apartment building, then pushed his bike a block to the park. His favorite spot in Central Park was on the bridge overlooking the lake, so he headed there first. He handed his iPhone to a tourist to take a shot of him with his bike. When he saw the result, he knew he’d chosen a legit photographer. It was definitely good enough to share with Sutton.
His next shot was with the statue of Hans Christian Anderson. He had another tourist take the picture of him sitting next to Hans on the copper bench and pretended to feed the ugly duckling. Then he moved on to the puppet theater where he took a selfie with the puppets. Hadley would love seeing a show there if Sutton ever brought her to New York.
At the thought of Hadley, he noticed a little girl about her size with dark curly hair. She was too far away to really tell, but she looked so much like Hadley, he almost said her name. But why would Hadley be in New York without her mom? And he didn’t see anyone who looked like Sutton. He’d checked as soon as he’d seen the girl.
Brushing off the thought as wishful thinking, Max moved on to his next shot. He posed and snapped a picture in front of Alexander Hamilton. He was a fan. Sutton needed to know that.
He took a dozen more shots around the park, ignoring thoughts that he might be approaching overkill. Once he got close to the Met, he decided to get a last shot right outside the museum in front of the best hot dog stand in New York. He pedaled to the park exit, then walked his bike across the street and waited in line. Mustard, onions and pickles, just the way he liked his dogs. He took a selfie of his first bite, then had someone take a another shot of him holding the half-eaten dog with one hand and making a thumbs up with the other hand.
Max sat on the museum steps long enough to finish his lunch while the pictures uploaded to the wedding site. If he’d remembered to bring his bike lock, he would have spent some time taking shots next to his favorite paintings in the Met. But that would have to wait for another day.
Clouds that had spent the day threatening to block the sun finally succeeded, and heavy drops of rain left their individual marks on the sidewalk. He pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt and rolled his bike to the curb, watching his phone to make sure the pictures finished uploading. The progress bar hit one hundred percent as he stepped off the curb.
He never saw the taxi skidding through the light, unable to stop on the wet pavement before it hit him.
Chapter Seven
The mild autumn turned into one of the coldest winters on record and blizzard after blizzard kept Sutton and Hadley shut indoors. During one of those blizzards, the city had come to a stop, and Sutton and Hadley were watching TV in front of the fire when Sutton opened her email to find a surprise.
Three months after the fact, Dahlia had finally answered Sutton’s email asking about Max.
Sutton hadn’t forgotten him. The picture she’d printed of him and Hadley was the only one of Dahlia’s wedding pictures she’d done anything with. Camellia had called her a few weeks after the wedding and said she had no interest in seeing any of the pictures she’d paid for. She also had no interest in ever seeing or hearing from Sutton again since Sutton had “taken it upon herself to encourage Dahlia in her half-cocked plan to go to Bali by herself.” That stung, but Sutton had always gotten the feeling Camellia didn’t quite approve of her friendship with Dahlia.
In all honesty, Sutton didn’t have time to edit the pictures even if Camellia had wanted her to. She’d been invited to show her work at a gallery opening that had led to other showings and some commissioned work. Between that and taking care of Hadley, Sutton’s days and nights were booked.
She also didn’t have time to pursue any relationships, particularly not with a stranger who’d made himself impossible to find.
But when she saw Dahlia’s email, her pulse quickened with the thought she might finally have Max’s number. She may not have had time to look for him, but she hadn’t forgotten him. The picture of him and Hadley wouldn’t let her. Neither would Hadley, although her questions about him had slowed to a few dozen per week.
Sutton opened the email and quickly scanned it. When she didn’t see a phone number, she slowed down and read Dahlia’s words more carefully, trying to ignore the tightness in her chest.
Hey Girl!
My yogi says true happiness comes from looking outside of yourself, so I’m giving it a try. You’ve been a good friend, and I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you over the years.
Sutton double-checked the sender before reading on. Dahlia had never apologized to her before.
As I’ve become more enlightened over the past four months, I’ve realized something. You’ve been the one person who’s always stood by me, and I’m hoping I can still count on you, because I need a HUGE favor, and you’re the only person who can do it.
Of course, she wanted something from Sutton. She really wouldn’t be Dahlia if she didn’t.
I made a mistake when I left Deacon. I don’t regret leaving, just the way I did it. I should have told him long before our wedding day we weren’t right for each other. I chickened out and ran. He didn’t deserve that. He deserves to know how loved he is, not just by me, by everyone who stayed the night I left.
Sutton had to give Dahlia credit. She really had gained some enlightenment.
Deacon needs proof of this. Photographic evidence. And you’re the only person who can do it the way it should be done.
Sutton continued reading. Dahlia wanted her to put together a photo book of all the reception pictures. She’d skimmed through them and knew Sutton would do something amazing enough to convince Deacon to forgive her for running away. But Dahlia knew he’d never open anything from her, so it would have to be from Sutton.
Based on her last conversation with Deacon, Sutton wasn’t sure he’d open anything from her either, but she was willing to try. She owed him an apology too. She should have told him where Dahlia went instead of sneaking out of the reception the way she
had to help Dahlia.
I don’t know when I’ll be back, but when I do, I want to be able to face Deacon with no regrets for either of us. I’ve made a lot of mistakes and have a lot of relationships to repair, but this thing with Deacon is the first thing I need to fix.
Love,
Your Dolly
P.S. I don’t have Max’s number, but I think he lives in Chicago. Or maybe Baltimore. And Max is a nickname. His real name is Jacob.
Jacob? Max was a Jacob?
Sutton read Dahlia’s P.S. a second time, then a third. Sure, she still didn’t know Max’s number, but she had learned his real name. Wasn’t that a step forward?
For some reason it didn’t feel like it. Maybe because there were so many more Jacobs than Maxes. His real name only made him harder to find.
Nearly four months had already passed since they’d met. She shouldn’t still be thinking about him as often as she did. Or regretting that she hadn’t asked for his number—or given him hers—every time she did think of him.
But she also hadn’t forgotten his promise to get the wedding guests to upload pictures to Dahlia’s site. If he’d followed through, maybe he’d also taken some selfies and she’d have some more photos of him other than the few she’d taken. She wouldn’t mind a few more reminders of what he looked like.
Sutton logged into the account and opened the file. A feeling of dread spread over her as she scrolled through the thumbnails. There were over a thousand pictures. It would take months to look through and Photoshop them.
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath to keep from cursing Dahlia’s name. When she opened them again she decided the project could be procrastinated for at least a day.
But then a face caught her eye. She enlarged it to make sure she was seeing what she thought she was, then let out a laugh.
It was Max, pointing to the fish on his plate and plugging his nose.
“What’s funny, Mama?” Hadley scooted closer and peeked over Sutton’s shoulder. “That’s Max!”
“Yep. And I don’t think he liked that fish,” Sutton answered, happy to share in Hadley’s excitement over seeing an old friend.
“Because fish is gross.” Hadley stuck out her tongue and made a gagging noise.
“Manners, baby.”
Hadley climbed onto the couch next to Sutton and rested her head on Sutton’s shoulder. “Are there more pictures of him?”
“I don’t know. Let’s see.”
Sutton put the pictures on slideshow, and they weren’t disappointed. There was Max pulling off a duck face like a boss, and then in a selfie with someone she didn’t know. The next picture showed him lying on the grass under the stars, followed by a bunch of shots he’d photobombed.
By the time they got to the picture of Max surrounded by fireflies, Sutton and Hadley were both laughing. Hadley was clearly in love with Max, and Sutton thought she might be a little in love with him too, or at least with his pictures. He had a good eye.
But then she came to the picture that took her breath away.
“I know those numbers, Mama!” Hadley yelled and read off the numbers Max had written on a napkin months before. “What are they?”
“I think it’s his phone number.”
“We can call him? Can we call him right now?”
Hadley bounced on the sofa, but Sutton didn’t answer her. She sat frozen, staring at the man she’d been thinking about for months holding the information she’d been searching for. Just when she’d accepted the idea she’d never find him, she had. And he’d been under her nose the whole time.
Seth walked in the front door then and Hadley hopped up to meet him. “Uncle Seth, we found Max!”
“You found who?” He picked her up and carried her back to the couch.
“No one,” Sutton said.
“Max!” Hadley’s words ran over her mother’s. “My friend from Auntie Dolly’s wedding when she didn’t get married.”
Seth raised an eyebrow and Sutton closed the lap top.
“I think it’s time for you to go to bed.” Sutton stood and took Hadley by the hand. “Kiss your uncle good night.”
Hadley reluctantly followed her mom’s orders. Bedtime was still an hour away, but Sutton wanted to avoid Seth’s questions. Judging by the look he’d given her after kissing the top of Hadley’s head, he knew exactly why she was rushing her daughter to bed.
Half an hour later, Hadley fell asleep, and Sutton couldn’t avoid her brother any longer. She made her way back down the hallway, hoping he’d gone to bed, too. He hadn’t. He sat on the couch going through the pictures Sutton hadn’t closed on her computer.
“Is this him?” Seth held up Sutton’s laptop with the picture of Max and his phone number filling the entire screen.
Sutton nodded. She had told Seth a little bit about Max, but Hadley had told him everything, including how they’d all danced together to a slow song.
“Are you going to call him? He obviously wants you to.” Seth put the computer back on his lap and studied Max.
Sutton wondered if he’d try to stop her like he’d tried to stop her from marrying Brett. “He was so great with Hadley,” she answered, without really answering. “I think he’s a good guy.”
“Maybe.” Seth set the laptop aside and stood. “I’m not going to be able to stop you, am I?”
She considered his question, then shook her head.
“Be careful.” He hugged her tight before walking out of the front room, and down the hall to his bedroom.
Sutton took the fact Seth didn’t freak out as a good sign but still waited twenty minutes. When she heard his first snore, she picked up her phone. Another five minutes passed before she worked up the courage to dial Max’s number.
Two rings and thirty nervous seconds later, a long beep and a robot voice informed her the number had been disconnected.
Sutton hadn’t known how much she wanted Max to answer her call until the moment the line went dead, and she realized the number she’d seen in his picture wasn’t good. He’d obviously wanted her to call him, so why would he give her a bad number? His picture had really only been good for one thing: the area code confirmed he lived in North Carolina.
That should have been enough to convince her to forget about him. For a while, it did.
She threw herself into her work and used her spare time to edit the pictures Dahlia wanted in the book for Deacon. The project took all of January. There were just so many pictures—and a surprising number of them were of Deacon and Lily together. He was even smiling in some of them.
She kept hoping there would be more of Max, but he must have done a good job of convincing people to take a lot of pictures because they’d done exactly that. Other than the dozen selfies he’d taken and another dozen he’d photobombed, he wasn’t in most of the pictures.
Until she got to the last batch. They were all him.
Max with a bike. Max on a bridge with a bike. Max in front of a statue—no, on a statue. Max feeding ducks. Max with a hot dog. She looked at them all, then scrolled through them again more slowly making sure she was seeing what she thought she was seeing.
Max in front of a brownstone similar to the one she lived in. Max on a foot bridge like the one in Central Park. Max sitting next to the Hans Christian Anderson statue in Central Park, feeding the duck in it, and then another of him feeding real ducks on the boat pond. Max watching a puppet show at the little theater Hadley loved. Max eating a hot dog from the stand in front of the Met that was her favorite.
Had Max been visiting New York? Or, did he live here? All the pictures looked like he knew his way around the city. No tourist would know which hot dog stand was the best one. Her heart beat faster as she scrolled through them. He would have had to take them within two weeks of the un-wedding when the app was still open.
She looked at the date of each picture, especially the ones in Central Park. Her breath caught when she saw the numbers. She remembered the date because it was the same day she’d c
alled Deacon looking for Max, and he’d blamed her for Dahlia leaving. The same day she and Hadley had been in Central Park and Sutton had promised her she’d find Max.
And she could have if she’d looked a little closer to home. All she had to do was look up, because she and Hadley had been feeding the same ducks that day.
She had a renewed sense of excitement knowing Max might be somewhere in New York, but also a new sense of dread. Finding Max still meant looking for a needle in a haystack.
She could email Dahlia and ask her about Max again, but Dahlia had taken three months to answer Sutton’s first message. How much longer would she take a second time around? Hopefully not as long because she had to try.
Sutton kept the pictures of Max open and opened another window to email Dahlia.
Dear Dahlia, she typed.
Does Max live in New York? Can you find out?
Namaste
The likelihood Dahlia knew where Max lived was somewhere in the Easter Bunny is Real range, especially considering Dahlia currently lived on an ashram in Bali. But Sutton didn’t have any other ideas.
Her one real hope was her original one: Deacon. She had to finish the book for him and include a note begging for his forgiveness and Max’s contact info.
She took a last look at the pictures of Max, studying the one in front of the brownstone in particular. Could that be where he lived? She could see the number seven on the front, but no street names. Max had basically left her one square of a thousand-piece puzzle.
But she’d always liked puzzles, and she was determined to solve this one. A man who loved Alexander Hamilton and puppet shows was a man worth puzzling over.
With renewed motivation, she finished Deacon’s photo book over the next week and dropped it in the mail in time to arrive by his birthday on February fourteenth. She chose to ignore the irony of the bride who jilted him sending him a present to open on Valentine’s Day. She hoped he’d ignore the irony too and not the package itself. The book was important for healing his relationship with Dahlia, but the note asking for forgiveness and Max’s number was what really mattered to Sutton.
Wedding Belles: A Novel in Four Parts Page 24