With a deep sigh, I stepped back in through the doorway and started spilling my guts.
In a moment of vulnerability, I found myself divulging my tangled thoughts to Max. The safe space of the club’s back office became the confessional for my insecurities and doubts, a rare moment of raw honesty in my carefully curated world.
As I unraveled my story, revealing the depth of my self-doubt and the shadows of a relationship that had once seemed my compass, Max’s simple interjection, “So what?” struck a chord. His challenge to the societal script I felt pressured to follow sparked a glimmer of defiance within me.
His empathy and understanding, paired with his refusal to see me as anything less than capable, offered a moment of clarity amidst the chaos. In Max’s eyes, I was not a woman out of time or options, but someone on the precipice of discovering her true desires and potential.
I had only planned on glossing over the details of Nikos, just enough to explain the impact of the text tonight, but I found myself going through every messy aspect of our relationship. I walked him through all our petty fights and Nikos’s reason for ending things. I walked Max through all my insecurities and lack of direction and confusion about what I was supposed to do in life.
“Oh, and don’t worry,” I said, “I also still live at my parents’ house. I mean, what thirty-five-year-old still lives in their childhood home? My room isn’t even still there! I’m in a freaking guestroom and I?—”
“So what?” Max’s voice cut through my rambling.
“What do you mean ‘so what’?” I asked. “I’m thirty-five without a solid career, relationship, home, or anything else for that matter.”
“And what, you’re supposed to? Says who?” Max asked.
I sighed. “It’s different for us, you know. Women? Guys can spend all their twenties and thirties dicking around, having fun, trying new things, and by the time they’re ready to settle down, they’re still handsome and can bag some hot, young chick who’s ready to pop out babies. We have to lock that down early.”
As I ranted, Max listened intently. He let me ramble and pace and talk over myself. He kept his eyes on me as I paced the floor and nodded and furrowed his eyebrows as I walked through all my anxieties.
“So at this point,” I continued, “I’ve missed the boat on being the young, hot chick for some guy and I don’t have anything in my own life figured out.” I didn’t expect Max, or any guy for that matter, to understand my position. It was different for them. It always would be. But, god, even spelling it out like this made it all feel worse somehow.
“I didn’t picture you as ‘some guy’ material,” Max said, “I’ve kind of always thought of you as the girl. The one the right guy would be lucky to have. Just because you’ve kept company with guys who didn’t get that doesn’t change the fact.”
“And what? You think you’re that guy?” I asked before I could stop myself. I wanted to take it all back and swallow the words. That’s not what I meant. I was under no delusion that Max thought of me in any sort of future way at all.
“Isabella. Sit down.” Max’s voice was firm and left no room for question.
I stopped my pacing. My mouth was slightly open as I locked eyes with Max. He was sitting in the desk chair, leaned back, knees spread out wide. He was taking up the space he knew he could.
God, this man was gorgeous. I let myself take in all of him. His dark navy slacks were raised to show his striped socks, his long legs were bulky in the thighs, and I wondered for a brief moment what they would feel like for me to sit on them.
My eyes made their way up the rest of his body. Cataloging the shiny cuff links at his wrists, the large watch on his left arm, and the way his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows. I found his face again.
“Isabella, let me take your mind off things. Sit down,” Max said, his voice clear and calm as he inclined his chin toward the sofa.
A million things were buzzing through my mind right now. But they all quieted as I slowly backed up against the small sofa. I didn’t quite understand why my body wanted to immediately listen to him, but I let it guide me. My body sank into the cushion and as I lifted my gaze back up to meet Max’s all of the overthinking and the criticizing chatter in my mind disappeared.
FIFTEEN
MAX
I heard the sternness in my voice, and I almost apologized for it. That was until I saw something flash across her face. It was like something clicked in her mind and settled into place. She was taken aback, but not by what I’d said. She was taken aback by how it made her want to listen.
Isabella didn’t take her wide eyes off mine as she lowered to sit on the couch. I loved what she looked like from this angle. Chin tilted up, throat exposed, brown eyes wide, full mouth parted.
It was a delicious sight.
I wish someone would just tell me what to do.
I’d heard her say it plenty of times, and I’d wondered if it would work in a different context. Isabella wasn’t someone who actually wanted to be told what to do with her life, but in this way . . . maybe. I shouldn’t be surprised. It was always girls like Isabella who liked to be told what to do in the bedroom. And the truth was, I thought it might help her let go and stop overthinking.
When she’d come into the club tonight, I’d immediately known something was off. The normally confident and carefree Isabella was anxious and annoyed. Something had rattled her. And now I knew. She’d spilled out her anxieties and fears as she’d paced the office floor, and I’d soaked up every word.
It was funny how we both felt inadequate. Her, a trust fund girl with every resource at her disposal, and me, a kid of working-class parents who had no clue about the world I was in every day. I had wondered if I could help her. I wanted to shut off her brain so she could just be for a bit.
And so I would play that part.
