Max: It’s cute you think they aren’t texting in front of me right now.
Me: Is this meeting about the secret team I can’t know about?
Max: Affirmative.
Me: Why does he want me there?
Max: Because you’re my wife and theoretically, this move will affect you.
Me: What time and where? Belle’s back in town. I’ll ask her to watch Emma.
Max: He made a reservation for Chandlers at eight.
At seven thirty, Belle’s shooing us out the door so she and Emma can hunker down to watchElfbefore bedtime. It’s already been the longest Monday on record, and now I’mheaded to a dinner that is out of my sweatpants-and-nacho comfort zone, wearing the burgundy dress I wore for the wedding. Even in my NYC art days, I never was into stuffy restaurants with pretentious food offered in tiny portions. Dinner should not cost the same as rent.
Downtown is decked out for the holidays and despite the cold, plenty of people are darting in and out of restaurants and shops. We get stopped on Front Street by the masses heading into a farm league hockey game at the arena that connects to the Grove Hotel. They’re rowdy and excited with their cowbells clanging. They’re going to a night of fun and I’m going to a night of small foods and business talk. I should be excited. It’s as art-world-adjacent as I’ve been in a long time, but I also wish Max and I were headed to the hockey game instead.
Max.
I sigh. He looks stunning wearing his gray suit. Even better than he did eleven days ago, if that’s possible. He’s styled his hair differently, parted and combed on the side and he’s shaved his face. No growth to be found; almost as if he’s attempting to be taken seriously as a professional who’s seen the errors of his ways and changed. He anxiously taps the steering wheel of his Land Cruiser as he waits for his turn to pull up to the valet.
“Are you nervous?” I ask, but he keeps drumming away, ignoring the question. “If you want to tell me how you think your meeting went, I’m all ears, Maxford.”
He stops and looks over. “It went well.”
“Well, Aaron’s asking us to dinner, so I’m going to go out on a limb and say things went more than well.”
Max pulls us up to the valet and signals to the manager waiting to take his car. “I wasn’t totally honest with you.There wasn’t just one meeting—I had two and both team owners and club managers said the same thing: they’re interested in bringing me on, but I need to be the new man I claim I am. No more hotheaded behavior and schoolboy antics. Focused and ready to lead is how they keep spinning it. I’d be one of the older players and am expected to mentor the rookies. Aaron vouched to both teams I’m all that and more since you’ve come into my life.”
His tone hints there’s a catch but all I’m hearing are positives. “That sounds like things are turning out the way you’d hoped.”
“Yeah, except I’m pretty sure Aaron doesn’t believe a word he said and tonight’s a test for us to show him we’re in love and in this for the long haul.”
17
MAXFORD
For the hundredth time, it’s clear to me that Nola’s not like other women I’ve met. Some would be taken aback by my statement. Others would feed me bull to soothe the ego. Worse yet, some would revel at the thought of dabbling in PDA. Nola does none of these, merely replying, “Cool,” before pulling down the vanity mirror and touching up her lipstick. She pops her lips as she twists the tube down. “I’m ready when you are. Why don’t you be a gentleman and get my door?”
With a grin and a shake of my head, I hop out and get her car door, then in a move I hope makes her proud, I get the door into the restaurant without prompting. We are greeted as we enter Chandlers Steakhouse and I check us in. As our host beckons us to follow him, my hand automatically goes to the small of Nola’s back.
There’s a breath of time where she stiffens to the unexpected surprise of me touching her. My first reaction is mortification. I’d never want to make her uncomfortable. I hadn’t even planned to touch her in the first place. I figuredI’d let her take the lead in how we’d play this off for Aaron. Give her an opportunity to decide what kind of PDA she was up for. Leave it to my brain to decide, “She’s your date; be a gentleman,” and my hand obeyed. Before I can apologize, she exhales and relaxes, as if nothing happened.
The place is hopping for a Monday, with a buzzy din heard above the jazz pianist. The bar is busy as drinks are tossed and carried to patrons. For a minute, I’m transported back to my old life in Austin. A good steak dinner with a couple of the guys after a win; dressed up for a romantic third date; Aaron sitting me down to tell me the Armadillos have passed on renewing my contract during my suspension.
I shake it off and pull out Nola’s chair for her as I make introductions.
“Have you been waiting for us long?” I ask.
“Naw. Just got here, man,” he tells me, then turns to Nola. “Hey, my guy Hutch tells me you’re the reason his life is on the up and up. I’m eager to learn more about this tonight.”
Nola tosses her hair in a flirty manner and touches the corner of her mouth. Her arm loops through mine as she squeezes my bicep with her free hand. “Wow, you don’t even let me order a drink first before you start in with work talk, do you?”
He offers a shamed smile. “You’re right, I’m sorry. What can I get for you?”
“A soda water with lime, please.” She carelessly looks around the room and sighs like she’s bored already. The samewhatevervibe she had in the car is carrying over to dinner and I’m here for it. Aaron’s met a few of my loosely described girlfriends in the past and they were the opposite of this. Bright-eyed, giggly, young. Eager to impress and easily swayed. Younger Max was such an idiot.
Aaron looks at her a long second before he stops a server and places drink orders for the table. Then, realizing she’s onto him, he gets down to it. “Hutch, I do have some good news for you. The Swordfish are interested—they’re willing to bonus after the initial year, and the Mountaineers are willing to give you a three-year deal.”
