Page 40 of Open for Negotiation
“The rest of the day was all right. Jackson was in, as I’m sure you noticed since he’s a behemoth who is impossible to miss, so I was kept busy. We had a lot to work on, so I didn’t have enough time to stop and dwell too much.”
“And after work?”
“I went to the gym, like I said, ran for a bit on the elevated track then focused on my arms.”
“I do like those strong arms.” I hear her shift a bit more.
“Are you lying in your bed?” I ask with a gruffness to my voice that is generally reserved for the boardroom… and the bedroom.
“I am. Tell me what happened when you got home? What did you do? I want to hear about your day.”
“What are you wearing?”
“Focus, Max,” she giggles.
“I don’t want to talk about what happened when I got home.”
There is silence for a few beats before she asks the question of the night.
“Did something happen with Miranda?”
This woman has crawled into my mind, my body, and nestled herself into me. She is able to read my tone and my mood without even laying eyes on me.
“She was here when I got home,” I admit to her. “She was sitting on my front steps crying.”
“Was she hurt?”
“No, nothing like that. She apologized but it wasn’t meaningful. It was empty. She was empty.”
“How did you leave it? Was there another big argument?”
“No, we were talking, but then she saw your name on my phone when you called and it upset her, so she stormed off.”
“Oh…” she says. “Shit, Max, I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”
“How could you know? This isn’t exactly a normal situation. I’m not going to put unnecessary rules or expectations on you just because of her. That’s unfair.”
“Wow,” she says plainly.
“What?”
“You’re just unlike any other man I’ve ever been with or talked to.”
I scratch the scruff along my jaw and grin. “That’s because you’ve only been with boys, baby. I’m all man.”
I can hear her scoff in faux annoyance but I know that beautiful smile is on her lips. “You’re too much, you know that?” She is silent momentarily then finally speaks up, “Will you ever talk to me about what’s really happening with her? I mean, you had to love her before, right?”
Love is a strong word to describe what Miranda and I had. I don’t think I was ever in love with her, not in the fireworks, romantic comedy, throw away everything for her kind of way. I was infatuated with her. I was so physically attracted to her and to how explosive we were together that I was blinded. Lust? Maybe. Love. I don’t think so.
“One day, Scarlett, I will tell you the very sad story of how I lost a decade of my life to a woman who never really deserved it.”
“Thank you, but I think I owe you a more… vibrant conversation.”
“Now we’re talking.” I relax back into the sofa and slip my hand under my T-shirt to rest on my abdomen with my eyes closed so I can do nothing except focus on her voice.
“Let me tell you about the book I was reading.”
My eyes pop open. “Really? I was hoping for something a little more vibrant than a book discussion.”
