“We need to get our coffee to go,” Asher said flatly. “The girls will be finishing their horseback riding lessons shortly.
Paloma’s jaw clenched, then loosened. “That’s great that Lilith gets to meet your daughter.”
“Our daughters are best friends.” Asher rubbed the back of his neck, looking toward the door. He was probably debating if he should turn around and leave. Max couldn’t blame him.
Another tense silence fell between them. Lilith broke it, saying, “We should go. The girls…”
“See you around,” Asher muttered.
They left, but the awkwardness lingered like a storm cloud. A tangle of emotions Max couldn’t quite unravel twisted around him.
After the door shut behind them, Paloma mimicked in a deep voice, “My neighbor, Lilith.” Then said in her normal tone, “Asshole.”
A flare of irritation bloomed in Max, not only at Paloma’s spite but at himself for caring. Why did it bother him that she was still hung up on Asher? It’s not like they were a couple. And yet, the thought of being nothing more than a placeholder twisted his insides.
“They are neighbors,” he snapped, immediately regretting his sharp tone but too annoyed to apologize.
“That’s not all they are,” she clapped back.
Asher wasn’t the kind of man to fool around on someone, even in a casual relationship. If he was interested in another, even slightly, he’d have broken things off first. “Then it’s good he ended it with you,” Max reasoned, hating how his voice caught on the words.
“Sure, fine. Defend him. Them.”
“He’s my friend.” And what exactly was Paloma to him? More than a friend, less than a lover, and apparently still into someone else. Did all their shared moments mean nothing to her beyond convenient comfort?
“And I’m not your friend?” she retorted.
“You are,” he said with false ease. And she’d stay in that lane, pining after Asher, while Max played the role of supportive friend, swallowing wants he couldn’t voice. “Who he’s dating isn’t our business.” Needing to focus on something besides his disappointment, besides the ache of being second choice, he pointed to the work proposal on the table. “What is, is our clients.” The familiar territory beckoned like a sanctuary. At least there, he knew exactly where he stood.
There was a quick flash of pain in her eyes before she shuddered her expression. “Good point. Work is all that matters to me.”
They sat. “So, uh, where were we before . . . all that?” he asked, waving at the scattered papers on the table.
Paloma blinked as if coming out of a daze. “Right. The Sterling account.”
“Yes, the Sterling account,” Max echoed, staring blankly at the documents. His thoughts were an untethered boat, drifting to his other accounts to Paloma’s unresolved feelings for Asher.
“Okay, let’s go over their changes,” he said with forced enthusiasm.
“Changes?” Paloma frowned, then nodded. “Oh, yes. Roy wanted minimalist. And Linda wants a beach vibe. I was thinking of a few tweaks in the conservatory.”
Max leaned forward, willing himself to focus. “And?”
“And, um.” Her gaze drifted to the door Asher and Lilith had exited through.
Max sighed. “Paloma, if you’re not up for this right now—”
“No, no,” she said quickly, snapping her attention back to him. “I’m here. I’m focused.”
She took a deep breath. “Okay, so the idea was to use contrasting imagery. Something that juxtaposes edgy elements with softer, more approachable ones.”
Max nodded slowly, attempting to be engaged. “That could work. Like, darker, sharper furniture with more flowering plants.”
“Exactly!” Paloma said, a hint of her usual enthusiasm returning. “Or we could—”
His phone buzzed, cutting her off. He glanced at it and sighed. Asher was a good guy, but right about now, a little distance would be nice.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
