With the First Goodbye (Thirty-Eight Book 5)

by Len Webster

  She had her reasons.

  But she sided with Jess. She just never admitted it to Stella so she could avoid the ‘I told you she has to be with Jess!’ talk.

  Josie smiled when Max let out an ‘ahh’ when Lorelai noticed the ‘R.G.’ sticky note on Rory’s bedroom door. He had made the connection. It had been what sparked Josie and Stella’s sticky note messages. Pushing off the wall, she made her way towards him and smiled when he swung his gaze to her. Josie didn’t say anything as she sat down on the couch next to him. She had made sure to leave space between them, but it seemed Max didn’t want space as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.

  “You sleep okay?” he asked, looking down at her. That softness in his eyes from hours ago was still there.

  Soft and sweet.

  His arm remained wrapped around her, and Josie rested the side of her head on his shoulder.

  There had been a shift in their relationship.

  Honestly could be in the makings.

  It felt as if it were happening right now.

  But then she pulled back. Not because she wanted to, but because she remembered she was still sick. There would be no more bodily contact with him until she was better and had a clearer, non-flu-fogged mind.

  “I slept great,” she confirmed with a small smile.

  “You feeling any better?”

  “A little.”

  “That’s good,” he said, his arm still wrapped around her shoulder.

  Josie glanced over at the screen to see Lorelai telling Rory to do a re-walk-in of her dorm room since she had missed it. “You’re watching Gilmore Girls.”

  Max gently squeezed her arm. “Yeah, I hope you don’t mind. Stella and I were talking, and she noticed that you hadn’t watched it. She asked if she could play the episode where Rory graduates in the background while she made you fresh soup. It’s still on the stove. I can heat you up some if you want?”

  “Hmm, not just yet. I can’t believe Stella made me soup.”

  “I told her about your soup going cold when she came home, and I had walked out of your room ready to throw it. She went down to the shops to get everything.”

  She loved her roommate more than she could possibly love another nonrelated human being. Tomorrow, she’d have to thank her. Josie would write the corniest Gilmore Girls pun note Stella had ever read.

  Josie’s brows furrowed when she realised exactly where Max was at on the Gilmore Girls timeline. “Wait. You’ve watched Rory graduate, right?” She craned her neck to see Max nodding at her. “This is season four.”

  Another nod from Max. “Stella changed it before she went to bed.”

  Josie’s jaw dropped. “And you’ve been watching it since?”

  “I have. You don’t mind that I’m ahead?”

  She laughed as Max removed his arm from around her, and he turned to face her.

  “I’ve seen every episode at least three times,” she explained. “Have you ever seen Gilmore Girls?”

  “Nah. I was too busy chasing girls, which is a shame because I really should have. I cannot take my eyes off Lorelai Gilmore.” He then frowned. “Who is Jess?”

  There was a gasp behind them, and they both noticed Stella in her pjs with her palm to her chest. “You don’t know who Jess is?”

  “He’s going to meet Logan first, Stella,” Josie teased.

  Her best friend shook her head. “No. That cannot happen. You have to watch this from the start, Max.” Then Stella scurried over to the cabinet where all the DVDs called home. She pressed her foot on the switch of the tall lamp next to the cabinet and searched inside. Seconds later, she pulled out handfuls of Gilmore Girls DVDs. “You don’t have plans for this weekend, do you, Max?”

  “Stella,” Josie hissed.

  “What?” her best friend asked as she walked over and set the DVDs on the glass table. “He can’t just ask who Jess is right before he meets Logan. That’s not fair, and you know it.”

  Max chuckled next to her. “I’m guessing she’s a Jess fan?”

  “She is. Now, you have to be prepared if you want to start a Gilmore Girls marathon. Once you start, you can’t stop—especially if Stella is watching, too. And trust me, she hates the first season because it drags and because of Dean.”

  “Dean?”

  And on cue, Stella groaned as she lowered herself onto the other leather couch. “I can’t stand Dean. It’s torture watching the first season.”

  Josie watched as Max nodded along with Stella. “But we like Luke, right?”

  Her heart had all but given up the absurd fight it was having.

  Max had said we.

  Not just her and him.

  But we as in her, him, and Stella.

  And that had her falling for him quicker than Lorelai convincing Luke for a cup of coffee with her wit and charm.

  Stella looked over at Josie and gave her that squinted look. The “he’s too perfect” look. It was the same look she had given her when she had first started dating West and had introduced Josie to him. Josie hoped the expression she was giving back was the “Don’t get any ideas. We’re friends!” look.

  Stella jumped off the couch and nodded as she picked up the first season of Gilmore Girls. “Oh, we are so Luke for Lorelai.”

  Max leant back on the couch. “Good. I like Luke.”

  “Then you’re going to love Jess,” Stella remarked as she opened the DVD and got to work introducing Max to the first season of one of TV’s finest shows.

  It was just after 1:30 a.m. when episode four and the first disc ended.

  Max hadn’t said much during the four episodes they watched with Stella. He had his little remarks. Stella’s favourite had been, “This Dean kid has a hidden agenda. Yeah, I don’t like him.” She had also shot Josie that “you have to be with him” look when he had excused himself to go to the bathroom. Then halfway through the second episode, he had heated Josie and Stella a bowl of Stella’s—but actually Stella’s mother’s—perfect every time chicken soup. Stella had practically forced Max back into the kitchen to make himself a bowl.

  And when she asked him for his opinion, he had told her that the title of “perfect every time” was justified. If he was lying to impress her best friend, Max did so flawlessly.

  “She’s asleep,” Max pointed out.

  Josie glanced over to find Stella sprawled out on the leather couch. She smiled at the peaceful-looking, Jess-loving best friend of hers.

  “Should we wake her up?”

  She got up off the couch, flinching when the aches in her head returned. They weren’t as painful as earlier in the day, but they were still troublesome.

  “You feeling okay?” Max asked.

  She glanced down and gave him a reassuring smile. “I am. I’ll get her a blanket from the linen closet. Helpful hint—never wake up a sleeping Stella Weller.”

  “Wait,” Max said between stifled chuckles. “Stella’s last name is Weller?”

  “Yeah. You didn’t know that?”

  “No.” More laughter from him. “I would have remembered. Julian is going to piss himself. He’s gonna wanna meet her.”

  Josie rolled her eyes. “Of course, he does. Her father was the one to name her Stella. He thought it would be adorable. She got teased a lot, apparently. But it never hurt her because, to this day, she loves that her name rhymes. She’s already vowed never to take West’s name if they ever get married.”

  “I like that,” Max said as he got up off the couch. “I’ll turn this off.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be back in a second. I’ll just grab the blanket.” It took her a matter of minutes to grab the spare fluffy blanket from the linen closet in the hallway. She could have grabbed the thin blanket in the trunk by the window, but the fluffy mink blankets were Stella’s favourite. When she returned, the TV was off, and Max took the blanket from her and gently covered her best friend with it.

  It was sweet and unnecessary of him.

  But she appreciated it who
leheartedly.

  Josie had walked over to the lamp and turned it off before she led Max away from the lounge room and to the dimly lit hallway. Josie had left her phone on the couch she and Max had sat on, but she knew it was too late for him to drive.

  “Do you want to stay the night?” she asked in a soft voice.

  Max’s eyes widened. “Is that okay?”

  She lightly laughed. “We’re adults, Max. If you want, you can sleep in my bed, and I’ll sleep in Stella’s. That way you won’t catch what I’ve got.”

  Max stepped a fraction closer, stealing the little air between them as he set his hands on the nape of her neck, drawing her closer. “I’ve had a flu shot, Josie. I’m okay with sharing a bed with you.”

  “Like with a pillow between us?”

  He nodded in agreement. “If that makes you feel more comfortable.”

  They were going to share a bed.

  Her bed.

  His body covered by the same blanket as hers.

  The thought that his strong arms might wrap around her had her shivering.

  “Josie, you all right?” His hand shot up and pressed against her forehead. “Okay, let’s get you to bed. Your fever’s still there.”

  His touch was soft and calculated.

  Not too much pressure.

  Enough to make tingles flutter over her skin.

  Oh, she most definitely was delirious from him.

  The thought had her correcting her softening posture. When she was sure she wouldn’t fall over, she nodded. She was glad that the dimmed lights hid her heated cheeks.

  Max’s hands left her face, and he turned in the direction of the hallway that led to her bedroom. Taking a small breath of air, Josie began to lead him to her bedroom. It dawned on her that this was the first time a man would ever share her bed. She had a strict no-hookup-sleepover rule. Her apartment was too lavish to trust some of her previous boyfriends or casual flings to be left alone in. It also cheapened her wild persona to have a place bought by her father. Her rebelliousness would be questioned. And she didn’t want Stella to see or have any contact with the men she had slept with. Nor did Josie want her to hear the lacklustre sex she was having.

  When she stopped at her bedroom door, Max reached over and grasped the handle. It took him no trouble at all to open and hold the door for her. Josie stepped inside and stood at the foot of her queen-size bed. A flick of the light switch by Max had the room brightening.

  Then she took in her bed.

  It was a mess.

  The blanket she had laid on top of was all wrinkled.

  And the pillows no longer perfectly aligned.

  “Right or left?” Max asked once he closed the door behind her and stood by her side.

  Josie peeked up to find him staring down at her. “What?”

  “Do you sleep on the left side or the right?”

  Her lips made an ‘O’ as she understood his question. “I sleep in the middle most of the time.”

  “And the other times?”

  “The side closest the window.”

  Max nodded as he walked around her and to the side of the bed she had just slept on. She watched in amazement as he flung the covers back and readjusted the pillow.

  “Are you also gonna tuck me in?” she teased as she made her way to him.

  “If you want me to,” he said in a throaty voice.

  Josie shook her head. “No, I can manage.”

  Max stepped back and gave her space to climb on the bed and lie down. Before she could even reach out for it, Max had covered her with the blanket.

  “Not too warm?”

  She shook her head as her eyes began to droop. “I’m good.”

  A yawn left her as she wiggled in the bed to get comfortable.

  “Can you turn off the light and get in here?”

  A sweet smile spread across his perfect lips. The same lips that had pressed against her forehead. “No pillow between us?”

  “We’re both adults,” she answered softer than she would have liked. Then she rolled onto her left side and tucked her hands under her cheek. Her eyes drifted closed seconds later.

  Josie heard the light flick off and then Max’s tepid footsteps. The bed dipped under his weight, and then he whispered, “Josephine?”

  “Yes, Max?” Eyes still closed, she willed her lungs to commence a normal sequence of breaths.

  “You don’t mind if I take off my shirt, do you? My pants are fine once I take the belt off.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek, hating that she loved the idea of her friend—who had spent the day looking after her—being shirtless as they slept.

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Thanks,” he said, and she heard him begin to undress.

  Josie blinked her eyes open, only seeing the darkness of her room.

  She waited.

  Memorised each breath he took.

  Cherished the way those small sounds made her heart beat his name.

  She knew she was long past the fall.

  She was currently spiralling out of control.

  And there was no way to stop it.

  Josie heard the belt buckle hit the carpet and then another sound. It was softer, and she assumed his shirt had joined the belt on the floor.

  Then the bed dipped once more, and she felt the tug of the blanket.

  She was tempted to see just how he slept. If he faced her or his back was turned to her. The urge to peek made her restless. Josie wiggled once more in the bed and finally found comfort.

  “Josie,” Max said into her dark room.

  Josie had held her breath for a long moment before she released it. “Yes?”

  She waited for him to speak, wondering if he was still awake or if he’d whispered her name in his sleep.

  The covers moved, and she felt him turn next to her. “Can you face me for a second?”

  Exhaling, she readjusted herself so that she now lay facing Max. She couldn’t see the features of his face, but he had reached out and set his fingers on her jaw for a long moment. Josie said nothing, too afraid her voice would betray her and expose her feelings. All she could do was wait and be thankful the darkness around them hid her face.

  Max’s fingertips slowly made their way down her jaw and along her neck. Then his touch disappeared until his palm found her hip.

  “I don’t want to be Max,” he whispered as his thumb circled her hip, causing the almost audible gasp to escape her. “Not to you, Josie. I don’t want to be Max.”

  “What?” she asked once his thumb halted its movements.

  “I watched the start of season four. I don’t want to be the Max to your Lorelai. I want to be Luke,” Max revealed. “Your Luke.”

  After that, Max said nothing more, his revelation met with silence, and his soft inhales.

  And sleep took a long time to find Josie.

  I want to be Luke.

  Your Luke.

  Maxwell Sheridan had said more than he should have last night. Last night, he had confessed his attraction to her, but he wasn’t sure if Josie had heard him. She hadn’t replied, and the room was too dark for him to see.

  He had no reaction from her, and Max presumed she’d fallen asleep.

  That his want for her to be his Lorelai fell on deaf ears.

  And as Max took in the woman sleeping next to him, he realised how correct and true his attraction towards Josie was.

  He would be her Luke.

  And she, his Lorelai.

  He had no idea if Luke and Lorelai ended up together at the end of Gilmore Girls, but they made sense and had a connection that was friendship, mutual respect, and more.

  Just like he and Josie.

  It wasn’t hard to come to terms with the fact that he liked Josie.

  He liked her honestly.

  Completely true without a hint of hesitation.

  Josie’s brows furrowed, and a small groan escaped her lips. “What time is it?” she asked, voice still heavy with sleep.
>
  Max smiled as he watched her eyelids flutter until her bright blue eyes greeted him. That right there. That moment her eyes found his was a moment worth keeping and replaying every day of his life. Josie waking up to him was one of those moments he knew would never leave him.

  He had no idea how it happened.

  How she could captivate him.

  How she was able to soothe every wound others before her had inflicted on him.

  Her lips broke into a beautiful smile. “Morning.”

  Not caring that their friendship and his heart was on the line, he reached up and brushed her brunette hair from her face. Josie wasn’t as pale as she had been when he first appeared at her apartment with soup. Her colour had returned. But he did feel the warmth of her skin.

  “Morning,” he greeted as his fingers traced the side of her face, and her eyes softened.

  She was claiming him without even knowing it.

  And he realised—there lying in her bed with her—that he adored her.

  Maxwell Sheridan adored Josephine Faulkner with a fondness he had never felt for any other woman he’d met, loved, or desired.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  She nodded.

  “Last night …”

  Her eyes widened. “Y-yes?”

  “You sang something to me,” he revealed. It was when Max had come to change the cloth helping with her high fever. She had hummed a sweet melody that was familiar to him. He’d heard some words, but then she hummed the rest.

  It was beautiful.

  He had smiled and taken in every hum and note sung.

  “I did?” she breathed as she sat up. Her cheeks reddened in a shade he loved seeing.

  Max followed and sat up, too. “I think it was French?”

  A sad gleamed consumed her bright blues. “Oh.” The muscles in her neck tightened as she swallowed. “I remember now. I did.”

  “What song was it?”

  Josie brushed her wavy hair behind her ears as she got off her bed. She made her way to a dresser and pulled open a drawer. She returned moments later and sat on the bed with something in her hand. Max glanced down to find a music box in her palms.

  She opened the lid, and a ballerina emerged and began to spin. Then the music followed. Gentle and sweet and so familiar. He had heard it once before. It was enchanting as he watched the ballerina in a pink tutu continue to dance with the music. When the music stopped, so did the ballerina, and Josie closed the square box and set it on the bed.