Much in the same way Emma can’t imagine her teachers having a life outside of school, I decide I can’t picture Max calling anywhere besides Garnet Charter School his home. Kind of weird to think we could’ve crossed paths while out on a bike ride in the neighborhood. I wonder if he hikes the foothills or if he’s snowshoed at Bogus Basin. Then I’m curious: does he grocery shop at the local grocery store, Winco, or is he a Costco guy? Is he a night owl or a morning person? Most importantly, is he a guy who remembers to put the toilet seat down? So many things I don’t know about him, and in a few hours he’s moving in.
For Emma’s sense of well-being and for the ease of all my art supplies, I’m glad we decided Max would move in here. The spare bedroom rarely gets used, and he’s a lot less maintenance than the Adler girls. He’s been added to the chore chart and I look forward to getting a break from vacuuming, gathering the garbage, and taking the can to the street. Also, lightbulb duty.
The MLB preseason starts at the end of February, with the preseason games starting in March, so the plan is to hopefully have him signed to a team by then. Meanwhile, to get my name back out there, I’ll be entering something into the Southwest Arts Festival in Indio, California, where Stella used to be on the board, at the end of January. By mid-summer, Max will sell his house here, the two of us will ‘split,’ and I’ll hit up the gallery circuit until I am established fully again.
I shower and am drying my hair when a key jiggles in thefront lock and the door opens. “Honey! I’m home!” His rich voice calls from the front room.“Happy Thanksgiving!”
I find him in the living room, two large suitcases parked by the armchair and a backpack tossed carelessly nearby. “Violation of privacy!”
“What are you talking about?” he rolls his eyes. “You’re the one who gave me a key.”
“Yeah, to use if I’m not home.” I hope he can read theduhon my face.
“You’re funny,” he tells me, grabbing a suitcase and heading toward the hall. “Which one is mine?”
I scoot around him and take him to the first room on the right. “This is your room. I’ve moved Emma’s bathroom stuff into mine and put fresh towels in there.”
“The fluffy ones?” he asks, like they’re a special treat. “From the night of the carnival?”
“Yes.”
“I knew I’d like it here.” He rolls the suitcase into the room and heads back into the living room for the rest of his stuff. “How did Emma take the news?”
Even though Max left way later than I expected him to, I texted Pam as promised and both of the nosy Nellies were still up. I talked to Emma privately first. She looked exhausted, forcing herself to stay awake, so I quickly explained everything to her. She didn’t hesitate a second with the idea of Max moving in and the two of us getting married. I reiterated so many times how it was all for pretend—yes, a lie—and drove home how Max would move on by the summer, but she kept telling me it would be fun. She yawned her happiness and went to bed, while Pam kept me up another hour asking for every last detail, so I told the story again.
“I know someday you’ll fall in love again and move on.Both Bruce and I have said for years we’re surprised you haven’t yet, dear. This seems a very elaborate way to salvage careers when you’re both doing fine, but if this is anything like the movies I love, it’ll end in a real wedding,” she’d told me matter-of-fact. “I only hope that when that day comes, you’ll feel comfortable inviting us.” I promised her they’d be first on the guest list and then lay awake all night, trying to picture a world where Maxford Hutchings would marry me for real.
“You did call Emma back last night, right?” Max checks in.
“Emma is on board,” is all I say.
He passes me in the hall and walks back into his room to drop the remaining suitcase and backpack. “What was your plan for today? Were you going to your sister’s? Your . . . parents’?”
A chuckle escapes me, and he arches an innocent brow. “I’m just thinking how ridiculous this all is. I haven’t even told you my parents are on a cruise around the Panama Canal for three weeks, so they’ll be in for a surprise when they disembark in L.A. and get Wi-Fi again, won’t they?”
“Please let me be present for that conversation.” He sits on the bed with a bounce, checking out the mattress. With my reluctant nod of approval, he says, “And your sister?”
“In Oregon with her new in-laws for the holiday.”
“They all left you alone?”
“Please. I asked them to,” I say with fervor. “Do you know how rare it is I have any extended time alone?”
“Is that a hint?”
I don’t answer with anything more than a coy smile.
He dismisses my sass. “Well, what were you going to do today? I don’t smell a turkey in the oven.”
“Before you hitched your wagon to mine, I’d planned tohike to the top of Table Rock this morning and then grab a prepackaged meal from Whole Foods.”
“Sacrilege.” He’s incredulous.
“Why? How could my holiday plans possibly offend you?”
“They don’t, but I’m afraid to tell you, we’ve been summoned by Stella.”
“This feels like a punishment or a trap.”
