by Ali Parker
“What do you like to do for fun?”
For fun? I never had much time for fun when I was at home. It was school or work and only those two things. If I was lucky, I’d have some free evenings to spend with Janie. Thinking about my friend made me smile.
“My favorite thing to do is spend time with my best friend, Janie. We like to watch movies and order food from new places in the city all the time to find out what’s good. And, well, what else?” I thought of the time I’d spent with the other men. I couldn’t very well tell him the things I’d liked doing with them.
Like logging and marking logs and learning about the industry.
Or ranching. Mucking stalls, breaking horses, rebuilding broken fences, tending to farm animals.
Or going to rock shows.
He’d see right through me.
“What about you?” I asked, turning the tables on him.
“I’m afraid my work takes up most of my time. I don’t want to bore you with specifics, but I’d be lying if I said I’ve done much of anything over the last few years other than work.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Really. Being CEO has its perks, but it also has some pretty steep downsides.”
I took another sip of wine and resisted the urge to wash the dryness from my tongue with my water. “What do you wish you could do?”
He shrugged. His blue eyes glittered in the dim lighting. “I haven’t given it much thought, to be honest. Travel? Explore?”
“Sounds nice.”
He nodded. “It does, doesn’t it?”
Both of us sipped our wine. Silence hung heavily between us as the conversation came to an awkward stall. I couldn’t think of a single thing to say to break the silence. It seemed like neither of us was all that comfortable, and we were both itching for this night to be over.
When our food arrived—much to my surprise, seeing as how we’d never ordered—we finally had something else to talk about. The server set a plate of white pasta in front of us, along with a filet of salmon. It was pretty plain looking, but it smelled good, and I was starving.
We both dug in, and I ate as delicately as I could.
The food was good. Not great but not bad. Had I had a choice, I would have opted for something else, but apparently in a place as fancy as this, choice was not an option and you ate what was served.
We hardly said a word while we ate, and what was said was vague commentary about the meal itself. Once our plates were empty, we ran out of things to say to each other.
“You know, Max, if things aren’t jiving between us, we can always—I don’t know—hang out as friends for the month?”
He studied me over the rim of his wine glass.
Suddenly, I worried that I might have misread things. Maybe a guy like Max was just reserved because he had no separation between his work and personal life. Maybe this was just how he was.
He set his glass down. “Whatever suits you, suits me.”
Even his answer felt off to me.
I pursed my lips in a tight smile. “Okay.”
The rest of dinner was a struggle. I suffered through dessert, which was a creamy lightly flavored mousse of some sort, and then we met Jonathan outside at nine-thirty, as agreed. Neither of us said a word in the backseat, and Jonathan made up for our lack of conversation with his own snippets about businesses and restaurants we passed.
I was grateful for it.
When we got home, Max opened the door for me. I took my shoes off in the foyer and held them with my fingers hooked in the heels as Max locked up.
He turned toward me. “Thank you for coming to dinner with me.”
“Thank you for taking me. I had a nice time. I’ve never been to a restaurant like that before.”
He nodded almost like it was required of him. “One of the hottest spots in the city.”
How that was possible, I had no idea.
“Would you care for a cup of tea or another drink?” Max offered.
“I think I’m actually going to call it an early night tonight. Flying takes it out of me, and I’d like to get a good night’s sleep. Is that all right?”
“Of course,” Max said. He gestured toward the stairs. “Have a good sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
And that was that. He left me to go upstairs alone, where so many of the other men would have walked me there themselves. As I scrubbed my face and washed off my makeup, I thought of said other men and how much I missed the intimacy we shared.
Then again, I was relieved not to feel it tonight. Not to feel anything, to be specific. Sure, the month might pass slowly with us tiptoeing around each other, but at least there wouldn’t be another painful goodbye at the end and more heartache.
At least I wouldn’t be hurting another man come January when I made my decision.
The blankets on the bed were silky smooth, and I drew them up around my chin as I got comfortable on my side. As I closed my eyes, my mind wandered to Levi and then through the others. I smiled as I thought of the futures I could see with all of them. The bright, sunny, warm, real futures.
The futures I couldn’t have.
My future was in New York City. With my family. Sure, the pressure of the restaurant was off my plate now, and I didn’t have to worry about inheriting that sinking ship, but I didn’t feel as relieved over the whole thing as I thought I would. If anything, I felt even more trapped than I did before.
As I lay in Max’s guest room, I knew the night of good sleep I needed would not come.
Chapter 6
Max
By the time Monday rolled around, I felt like Piper and I were both grateful that I had to go to work.
The weekend in the house together had been awkward. After our train wreck of a dinner, where Piper suggested we just be friends rather than try to make this thing work, I had no idea where I stood with her or what she expected of me.
“Being friends” was clear enough, but we hadn’t agreed to it. Hadn’t drawn a concrete line in the sand and decided on which side of it we both stood. Everything was left unsaid. So now, neither of us seemed to really know how to be around the other person.
For the most part, we kept to ourselves. Piper seemed content to sit with her book. I could either find her on her private balcony, sitting by the pool, or in the living room, where she spent both Saturday and Sunday morning as promised. She wanted to see the rainbows of light I’d told her about.
Watching her as the sun came up and painted the living room in shades of blue, red, yellow, orange, and green had been enjoyable. But I wished there was something between us to take it to that next step.
It just all felt so forced.
The office would be a nice reprieve from walking on eggshells in my own house all weekend.
I poured myself a cup of coffee into one of my travel mugs. As I was screwing the lid on, footsteps sounded on the stairs, and moments later, Piper rounded the corner of the kitchen in a pair of loose gray sweats and a white tank top.
She stopped when she saw me at the coffee machine. “Oh. Good morning. I didn’t know you were up already.”
I lifted the coffee as if in a toast. “Workdays start earlier than weekends.”
“Of course.” She smiled. It was a rehearsed smile, one that didn’t touch her eyes. “Are you leaving now?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
Her eyes flicked downward, and I got the sense she was considering my clothing choices. Holly would tell me to put something nicer on, but I was comfortable going to the office in my jeans and T-shirt. I’d throw on a light jacket and be good to go. Nobody in the building cared.
And if they did, they could take a hike, seeing as how I was CEO and all.
Clothes were just that. Clothes. They didn’t dictate what a person was capable of in the workplace or their work ethic. I refused to meet societal expectations and go into my place of work feeling constrained in an expensive suit.
Piper’s smile never faltered. “All right.
Well. Have a good day.”
“You too.”
Leaving her in the kitchen didn’t sit right, but I stepped out the front door anyway, locked up behind me, and strode across the driveway to my daily driver: a slate-blue McLaren. It was without a doubt my favorite car in my collection, and it turned heads everywhere I went. I wasn’t in it for the attention, but every now and then, it was nice to have people look when you drove by.
This morning was one of those days.
Piper’s silent criticism of my clothes might have been the catalyst for my self-indulgent decision.
By the time I arrived at the office, my coffee had sloshed out the opening of my lid and spilled in the cupholders, an excuse to get my baby detailed. I left the cup in the car after I parked in my designated CEO spot and strode across the Apple Park Headquarters grounds to the business sector where tourists and visitors did not have access.
People passing me on the grass-lined sidewalks smiled and waved, and I returned their greetings, feeling like I was coming home after being away for too long. I rode the elevator up to my office floor and found myself bombarded with the chaos that was the executive level.
People were rushing in all directions. Some spoke into small headsets. Others chatted animatedly with each other as they walked and reviewed business plans and proposals and stock levels.
The receptionist, a new hire who we had promoted from within, called a cheerful greeting after me when I took a right turn toward my office. I waved at her over my shoulder as my assistant came hurtling around a corner up ahead.
Shawn Bowen was a rather frantic young man who had no off button. He was like a relentless energizer bunny as he hurried to my side and flipped through my day’s list of events while rattling them off to me one after another.
“You have a presentation outside at the amphitheater at noon. All employees will be in attendance with their lunches, so I advise you try to eat beforehand. You’ll have a two-hour window this morning to respond to emails. This evening, you have a meeting with—”
“I won’t be here this evening, Shawn.”
Shawn did a little hop-step to keep pace with my long strides. “All right, but sir, if there’s any way you could make an appearance, that would be ideal.”
“Not tonight, Shawn. Sorry. You’ll have to shuffle some things around. No night shifts for me this month. Remember?”
“I didn’t think you were serious about that, sir.”
“Dead serious.”
Shawn nodded and scribbled a few things off his list. “All right. You’re the boss.”
We arrived at my office. I turned toward Shawn. “The conference meeting begins when?”
“Nine o’clock.”
That gave me about fifteen minutes of peace and quiet in the solitude of my office before the day really got going. “All right. I’ll meet you in there.”
“We still have to review—”
“Shawn,” I said sternly, lifting an eyebrow.
He laughed nervously. “Yes. Sorry, sir. As you were.”
“Stop calling me sir.”
“Yes, sir—I mean Mr. Fisher.”
“Max.”
Shawn rubbed the back of his neck. “It sounds so informal calling you Max. I mean, you’re the CEO. Mr. Fisher feels appropriate.”
“Mr. Fisher makes me feel old. And like a tyrant. Am I either of those things?”
“Well, no, but—”
“So then call me Max. It’s all good, Shawn.” I clapped him on the shoulder.
He wheezed out a shaky laugh. “Okay. Thank you, Max.”
“Better.” I stepped into my office and closed the door behind me. I had a very important scheduled call I had to get to. I went to my desk, dropped into my chair, picked up my phone, and hit speed dial number one. The phone rang. And rang.
Then a young woman’s voice spoke into the line. “Thank you for calling Central City Assisted Living. This is Amy. How can I help you?”
“Hi, Amy. It’s Max.”
“Max.” I could hear her smile. “She’s been waiting eagerly by the phone for five minutes now. Hold on. I’ll patch you through.”
“Thanks.”
The phone beeped and then proceeded to ring again. It only rang two times before a familiar voice, crackly like a wood-burning fire, spoke my name into the line. “Max. You’re late.”
“I know, Nana. I’m sorry. The morning kind of got away from me.”
“Would that happen to have anything to do with the pretty young thing who arrived on Friday?”
“Nana,” I scolded playfully. “No. For your information, it does not. And her name is Piper.”
“Piper. What a cute name. Is she as pretty as you remember?”
I sighed. “Yes. She is. Almost more so.”
“You poor unfortunate soul.”
I chuckled. “Yes. Well. Pretty only goes so far, Nana. I don’t think things are going quite as well as I’d hoped. There’s this weird tension between us. Even though we’re sitting inches apart, it feels like there’s so much distance separating us. And I don’t know how to break that wall down. Or if she wants me to.”
“It’s only been a couple of days, Max. Think what the young girl has been through this year. She’s probably scared. Getting close to someone is hard. Having to do it over and over again? Well, that’s something else entirely. Maybe she’s simply protecting herself.”
“From me? She doesn’t need to.”
“No, you dense boy,” my grandmother scolded. “Not from you. From getting close to you. You know how hard it is to open up and let people in? She’s done it over and over all year long. Think of how guarded you would be in her position.”
I leaned back in my office chair. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”
“It sure is a good thing you have a wise soul like me to keep you on course.”
“I’d be lost at sea without you.”
My grandmother’s crackly laugh filled the line, and I wished I was there in New York with her, sitting across from one of the game tables with her in the lounge, playing chess or cards and drinking coffee and listening to Elvis.
I missed her always.
“Tell me what this Piper is like before our time is cut short,” Nana said.
I rubbed at my jaw. There wasn’t much I could say. Truth be told, I hadn’t really dug deep with Piper or tried to get to know her this weekend. Sure, she’d told me about being raised by her parents in the city with her brother in their family restaurant, but aside from that, I didn’t know much.
My hesitation gave me away.
Nana clicked her tongue. “Max, come now. You must know something about her.”
I grimaced. “I know that she’s kind. And she values family. And she likes to read. A lot.”
“A well-read woman has a lot to offer.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re a bookworm, and you know it.”
She laughed. “Yes. Well, wisdom is wisdom. Don’t argue with it, Max.”
“All right. All right. I should know better by now.”
“Indeed.”
I didn’t want to end the call, but our time was running short, and I had a meeting to get to. Before we said goodbye, my grandmother insisted I try again with Piper.
“Put yourself out there, Max. I never would have ended up with your grandfather if he hadn’t put in the effort to show me he cared enough to earn my love. And I’m grateful for how hard he fought for me every day. All love requires is that you show up. The rest will take care of itself. Can you show up for this girl, Max?”
“I think so.”
My grandmother made an amused sound in the back of her throat. “Your grandfather told me long after we were together how scared he was to put himself out there. It’s not easy. But the reward is so worth it. Trust that. If you think there is even the smallest chance Piper might be your girl, you have to throw everything you have at her. Even if she chooses someone else in the end, at least you won’t have
to wonder if you did enough.” She paused for a moment. “Wondering is worse than all of it. You don’t want to be an old man lying in bed, wondering if he lost out on the best thing because he was afraid to swing. You want to be lying in bed reflecting on the memories you made with that person. Those memories are what will make the days at the end worthwhile. Take it from an old lady.”
Chapter 7
Piper
It was rather hard to find something to do with myself on Monday once Max left for work. I read for about an hour and then aimlessly wandered around the house, pausing to admire the artwork on some of the walls. I stood in the foyer staring up at the stained-glass ceiling for at least fifteen minutes before I decided to make myself some breakfast.
I enjoyed every second of cooking in Max’s kitchen.
The amount of space was luxurious. And everything was sparkly clean. I struggled to keep all the surfaces shiny as I whipped up an omelet and only had a small clean up when I was done. I took my plate and a second cup of coffee to the dining room, which was bathed in sunlight from all the windows. I ate in comfortable silence and thought about things between Max and me.
We’d avoided each other for the most part all weekend long.
It was a strange feeling. I kind of wished I’d never said anything about us “not jiving” and being friends instead for the rest of the month. Maybe I hadn’t given him enough time to warm up to me, and coming out of the gate with a comment like that closed the door on what potential there might have been between us.
But wasn’t that what I wanted? A clear and concise warning that said “please don’t fall in love with me.”
Apparently not, because something in my gut felt wrong about it. It was like I’d sabotaged his shot at love and he had just as much of a right to us becoming a thing as the other men did.
It wasn’t fair of me to take that from him, even though I was sparing us both pain in the end.