"And if Timothy the Dolphin tries to touch your arm?"
"You intervene," Maxwell says. "With extreme prejudice."
I lean back, considering.
This is a terrible idea. I am going to hate it. It’s going to be stiff, awkward, and full of rich people judging my table manners.
But then I think about Maxwell sitting there alone, being poked and prodded by his mother, looking for a way out.
"Fine," I say.
Maxwell exhales. "Thank you."
"But I have conditions," I add.
"Name them."
"One," I say, holding up a finger. "You buy the dry cleaning. Two, if the food is tiny and weird, we get cheeseburgers afterward. And three..."
I lean forward, mirroring his posture.
"You owe me," I say softly. "A real date. No parents. No fake. Just us."
Maxwell goes still. He stares at me. The air in the room shifts frombusinesstoheatin a heartbeat.
"Is that a condition?" he whispers. "Or a request?"
"It’s a threat, York."
Maxwell swallows. He pushes off the chair, standing up straight. He adjusts his tie, but his hands are shaking just a little.
"Acceptable terms," he says. "I will inform my mother."
"Great." I grab another pretzel. "So, do I need to learn which fork is the salad fork, or are we going for full ‘Raised by Wolves' vibe?"
"Be yourself, Jax," Maxwell says, walking back to his side of the room. He pauses at the tape line. He looks back at me, and for the first time in days, he smiles. A real one. "That will be more than enough to terrify her. We'll still meet later after work to discuss some of the basics, I don't need my soldier bodyguard going into battle without all of the facts."
"You got it, Princess."
He sits down and picks up his phone. He starts typing, tapping the screen with aggressive satisfaction.
I watch him.
I’m going to dinner with the Yorks. I’m going to be his "buffer."
But as I look at the curve of his neck and the way his shoulders have finally relaxed, I realize I’m not just doing this to annoy his mother.
I’m doing it because the idea of anyone else sitting next to him—Timothy, a Cardio colleague, anyone—makes me want to punch a wall.
I check my calendar. December 23rd.
Operation: Human Shield is a go.
Maxwell
Preparation prevents poor performance.
It is the York family motto. It is etched in Latin (Praeparatio Prevenit Defectionem) above the fireplace in my parents' library. It is why I have spent the last hour compiling a dossier on my own parents.
