by Steph Nuss
“My publicist and I have been talking about my upcoming schedule for the next year, and while I’m traveling the world promoting the next Secret Warriors movie, I’ll also be stopping at local hospitals and homeless shelters in the cities on our press junket to give back to those communities. So, if there are any places you know of that are in need of more volunteers, please visit my website and click on the volunteer tab at the top to submit your request. I will try my best to stop by as many as I can while I’m traveling.”
“We’ll also be posting Max’s link to his volunteer request on our website, so be sure to check it out and put in your requests,” Cash added. “That’s all the time we have today with Max Waters. From everyone here at WLVE, thank you so much, Max, for taking the time to come hang out with us.”
“I had a blast,” I said. “Thanks for having me.”
“Anytime,” Cash said. “Now, ladies and gents, put away those pictures of Max, get your hands out of your pants, and submit your volunteer requests, because the Sexiest Man Alive is doing good things for good people and you should be too! Help your local hospitals and shelters get the volunteers they need!”
The red light in the booth turned off, indicating we were off the air, and a commercial started playing through the station’s sound system. Cash and I stood from our seats and shook hands.
“Thanks for fitting me in on such short notice,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”
“Hey, you said you’d do an interview,” he stated. “I’ll be here whenever you want to do another.”
The door to the booth flew open, and we both turned to find Paige glaring at Cash.
“What?” he asked obliviously.
“‘Get your hands out of your pants?’” she repeated in a disgusted tone as her nose wrinkled. “How are you even allowed to say that on the air?”
“Have you ever listened to my radio show?” he retorted with a deviant smile. “It’s rated R for raunchy.”
“Jesus,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And you wonder why Lennox hasn’t done an interview with you yet?”
“Oh, come on!” Cash argued. “I’ll be good, I promise!”
I laughed and patted him on the back. “Yeah, come on, Paige. Lennox can handle him.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she muttered, handing a card over to Cash. “Give this to whoever schedules your guests, and Drake will set up a time for her to come on your show.”
“I love you,” Cash announced, giving her a peck on the cheek.
“Don’t make me regret this, Johnny.”
***
After the interview, I found Harper waiting for me in my apartment. She was the only person outside of Whitley and my parents who had a key to my place. She’d been like a mother hen ever since my argument with Whitley. She constantly called or texted to check in on me, but I knew the real reason behind her nagging. She didn’t want me falling into some reclusive black hole like I did after her assault.
“Hey, H,” I said, closing the door behind me.
“Hey!” she exclaimed, smiling. “Your interview sounded great! You did a good job, and no, you didn’t come off as some whiny celebrity.”
“Says another celebrity.” I laughed, walking toward her in the living room. “That’s the last headline I need: Sexiest Man Alive Whines About Popularity.”
I sat down next to her on the couch and kicked off my shoes. Relaxing back into the cushions, I stared ahead at the framed photograph of Whitley and Zane on my mantle above the fireplace. It was a picture I’d taken one evening when they were over here at my place. Instead of smiling at the camera, they’d made funny faces that had made me laugh. It wasn’t a typical posed picture, but a silly, fun one that I’d had framed the very next day so they could have a place on my mantle with the rest of the people I loved.
“How are you doing? Do you need a drink? I always like a drink after doing an interview.”
I shook my head and peered over at her. “I needed her, Harper. Whitley knew how much I feared something like this happening, and she just threw it back in my face and blamed me for it. Even Zane understood that it was an accident. How could an eight-year-old understand that, but she couldn’t?”
Harper curled her legs up underneath her body and rested her elbow on the back of the couch. “Because she’s a mom. One who was blindsided by the fact that her boy was hurt. She’s never had to worry about anyone else but him and her for the past eight years. She’s been a single mom for a long time. Then you come along and not only has she fallen for you but so has her boy. Max, it is so hard being a parent, and—”
“I’m so sick of people telling me I don’t know what it’s like to be a parent!” I snapped in a sharp voice. “I might not have children of my own, but God, H, I love him like he’s mine. Doesn’t that count for something?”
“It does,” she insisted, nodding. “All I’m saying is that even having a partner to parent with me, it’s still really hard. A few months ago, Maverick told me he dropped Seghen, and I just lost it. I yelled at him and asked him a million questions as I checked to make sure she was okay. I didn’t even let him finish telling me how she didn’t cry. She laughed at him while he looked her over to make sure she wasn’t hurt, like she thought it was funny that her dad had freaked out. I felt so bad for getting bitchy with him over a simple mistake. I can’t imagine having to do it all alone and then have a man swoop in, gain the love of my child, and then accidentally land him in the hospital with a broken arm.”
I deadpanned. “You’re supposed to be my friend. Not make me feel worse about the situation.”
She laughed. “Friends are also supposed to point out when you should stop being upset with the woman you love, especially when all she did was freak out because she’s a mom.”
She raised her hand in the air as if she was testifying in Whitley’s defense. “We all freak out now and then. It’s like mom code.”
I shot her a weak smile. “That’s understandable. I’m more worried about Zane’s birthday party. I told him I would be there, but—”
“What if she doesn’t want you there?” she asked.
“Exactly,” I groaned, running a hand through my hair. “What do I do?”
“What would Zane want? It’s his birthday.”
“He’d want me there,” I answered surely.
“So, go,” she stated in a compassionate voice. “And if she asks you about it, you stay firm to your word to him. She’d be more upset with you if you backed out and disappointed Zane because you thought she wouldn’t want you there.”
“Thanks, Harper,” I offered.
“No problem. That’s what friends are for!” She grabbed her purse and then stood up. “Well, since my job here is done, I’m going back home to my little girl. Will you be joining all of us in the Hamptons for the Fourth of July or do you have to work?”
“No, they’ve given us the day off from filming, so I offered to volunteer at the hospital.”
“Look at you … I can’t even get mad at you for bailing on our Fourth of July again!” She offered me a sweet smile before walking out of the living room. “Please work this out with her; she’s good for you!”
Yeah, I thought, thinking back to the previous Fourth of Julys I’d spent drunk and stupid on some beach instead of spending it with people who mattered. She is good for me.
Chapter Fifteen
“I’m sorry I’m late!” I exclaimed, rushing into our office. “Travis’ mom would not stop talking after I dropped off Zane. I just wanted to tell her about Zane’s arm so she made sure they didn’t light his cast on fire with a firecracker or something, but then she went off on some tangent about another mom that has a kid that goes to the boys’ school. I couldn’t get her to shut up. Mom politics are worse than regular politics.”
“Amen to that,” Sophie said, raising her coffee mug at me.
Taking a seat at my desk, I woke up my computer and grabbed a bottled water from our mini fridge. “Did all our volu
nteers show up today? You know how the holidays can be. They say they’ll help, but then they don’t show.”
“Yep! They’re all here and assigned to their patients.”
Sophie turned her attention back to her computer as I grabbed the clipboard with the list of our volunteers for the day. Holidays were always harder at the hospital. Sometimes the patient’s family showed up to spend the day with them, sometimes that was completely impossible given their situation. So, I’d pushed to keep the volunteer services open for holidays that fell on weekdays. Sure, it meant moving my own holiday plans around, but it was worth it if it meant making someone else’s holiday better.
Scanning the list of volunteer names, my eyes stopped on one name in particular. I reread the list to make sure my eyes weren’t playing a trick on me. It’d been weeks since I’d seen him, so to be in the same building as him made me slightly nervous … and excited … all at the same damn time.
Damn, I miss him.
“Max is here today?” I asked curiously, glancing over my shoulder at Sophie for confirmation. “They’ve started filming. Shouldn’t he be at work?”
Sophie shot me a look that told me she was treading carefully as she replied in a calm voice. “They gave them the holiday off. He called last week while you were at lunch to let us know he’d be here to volunteer.”
“Oh …” I said, setting the clipboard down.
“If you were talking to him, you’d know that,” she retorted critically.
I sighed. “We’ve texted.”
“About Zane and his arm,” she said, swiveling her chair around to face me. “Did you catch his interview with Cash Donovan?”
“Yes.” How could I have missed it? Harper, Elly, and Paige all texted, asking me to tune in to Cash’s radio show.
“We’ve been getting calls ever since he mentioned volunteering here. It was a nice promo for the hospital’s volunteer services.”
I looked away from her judgmental stare. “I know.”
“So what is the damn problem?” she demanded, pushing up out of her chair. She leaned against the edge of my desk so I couldn’t avoid her, and continued. “What more does he have to do? He’s given you the space you wanted, only texting occasionally to ask about Zane. He’s promoting the hospital, not just because he loves you but because he actually likes helping out here. When asked if he was single, he said no and respected your privacy when pushed for more details about you. So, what is your deal?”
“I miss him, Sophie,” I admitted, slumping back in my chair. “I miss him in this all-consuming way that not only makes me miss his voice and his touch, but his entire presence in our lives. I miss him at night when I can’t sleep because he’s conditioned me to need him laying next to me. I miss his help around the house that I never knew I really wanted until he offered and followed through. I miss him and Zane together. Zane loves him. He’s finally found someone who understands his love for comic books and baseball, someone who can teach him things the rest of us can’t.
“I tried talking to Zane the other day, to explain why I freaked out and how mothers will forever worry about their children, but all he cared about was whether or not Max was coming to his birthday party this weekend. And I don’t know! I couldn’t give him an answer, so he got upset again.
“We’re a mess without him, and that scares me. I’ve never let a man into our lives like this, especially not a man of Max’s notoriety. What I feel for him … What Zane feels for him … It scares me.”
She gave me a weak smile. “Love is scary no matter who it is. Do you love him?”
“Yeah … I do,” I said, nodding. “I love who I am with him. He reminds me that I’m more than a mom, that I’m a woman with needs just like most of the female population. He understands that the way to my heart isn’t by showering us with expensive gifts or taking us to fancy places, but by simply being there for us. He adds a piece to our puzzle I never knew we were missing until he came along and fit right in.”
“Then you might as well be scared with the man who inspires you to be better.”
“You’re right.” I blinked back the happy tears blurring my vision. “You’re absolutely right.”
“So, go talk to him!” she urged, pointing to our closed door.
I scoffed. “During work hours? Don’t you think that’s unprofessional?”
“Screw professionalism!” She grabbed my hand and pulled me up out of my chair. “You love him. He loves you. It’s unmotherly to not know if he’s coming to Zane’s party. So, just go ask him.”
With a hard shove, she pushed me to the door.
“Go!”
“Fine!” I exclaimed, stumbling slightly in my heels. I wiggled my black pencil skirt down where it had ridden up and smoothed my hands over the fitted material. “I’m going, I’m going. Who was he assigned to today?”
“Harold,” she replied with a mischievous smile, like she’d planned this all along. “So, I’m sure he’d welcome an interruption.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” I quipped, shaking my head as I opened the door to our office. Before I left, I leaned against the doorjamb and smiled gratefully at her. Sophie pushed me to pursue happiness in every aspect of my life, and even in her unprecedented ways, it almost always worked. “Thank you, Sophie.”
“Get out of here, so you can come back and tell me all about it.”
***
Strolling through the halls of the hospital, my heels clacking against the tile flooring, I gave myself a pep talk the entire way to Harold’s room. It’d been weeks since I last saw Max in person, in this very same hospital, before telling him to leave. We’d only spoken via text messaging about Zane, never crossing into the territory of our relationship. Now, it would be different. My heart raced inside my chest with each step I took down the hallway. I mentally reminded myself to just be the woman he fell in love with. Whitley B.M.—before Max—would have appeared strong and unbreakable as if no man could ever affect her, but now, with my emotions wading in a sea of uncertainty and excitement, I didn’t care about masking them in front of him.
I wanted him to see me.
I wanted him to know how bad I felt about what I’d done.
I only cared about getting him back—although according to his radio interview, I still had him. It just didn’t feel like it.
Once I arrived at Harold’s room, I peeked in and found Max and Harold playing Scrabble. Each of them studied their rack of letters and the board in a serious manner, both too competitive to lose.
“Waters, are you going to play a word today?” Harold mocked.
“With the way you’re playing, it doesn’t even have to be a word,” Max replied, shaking his head. “The last word you played isn’t even in the dictionary!”
“Maybe not that dictionary,” he argued, pointing to the thick book in Max’s hand. “That book has been updated so many damn times, the last time I checked it was a word.”
“Whatever,” Max muttered in frustration as he handed the dictionary over to Harold.
“If you can’t make a word—”
“I know how to play.” Max removed the three tiles he wanted to exchange and placed them face down on the table. Then he picked three new tiles and placed them on his rack before throwing the exchanges back into the bag. “Your turn.”
I knocked on the room’s opened door, distracting them from their game. “Hey, guys. How’s it going?”
“Hello, Whitley,” Harold said with a genuine smile. “It’s a good thing Max can get by on his good looks because he’s awful at Scrabble.”
Max stared back at me in surprise, his blue eyes running the length of my body and then searching my face, like he couldn’t believe I was standing in front of him. I thought he’d ignored Harold’s jab until his lopsided smirk spread across his handsome face as he replied, “He’s cheating. What’s new?”
“I’m not cheating!” Harold argued. “You’re just upset because you’re a terrible speller. Jo’s a better Scrabble player tha
n you, and she’s a child.”
“Okay, okay,” I said, mediating the situation. “Captain, do you mind if I steal Max for a second?”
“No, ma’am,” he said, shaking his head. “It’ll give me more time to think of an even better word.”
“Or a word that’s not even a word,” Max muttered, following me out into the hall.
“I heard that!” Harold exclaimed.
“I don’t care.” Max laughed, closing the door behind us.
Once we were alone in the hall, my hands grew sweaty as I stood in front of him and checked him out. God, he looked damn good today. But really, when didn’t he? Khaki cargo shorts hung low on his hips, and his short-sleeved red, white, and blue plaid button-down highlighted the muscles and veins of his arms and showed off some of his dark chest hair. His feet donned a pair of brown sandals, rounding out his casual look. He styled his short, wavy hair in an effortless manner, and the day-old stubble along his jaw made me ache in places that desperately missed him, remembering how wanton its burn felt along my sensitive skin. The warm, musky scent of his cologne wrapped around me, almost making me forget why I’d come to talk to him in the first place.
“Whitley?” Max said, his deep voice knocking me out of my Max-induced trance.