“Facing reality.”
Max walks into the bedroom. “Um, you’re paying me to assist you in your business, not guide you through an existential crisis.”
I laugh. “Like you’re really invested in matchmaking. You’re just getting a paycheck while you’re having your own crisis, if we’re being honest.”
“No, I really just need to pay the bills, actually. I’ve got everything handled.”
I laugh. His ex-girlfriend just sabotaged his life’s work and now he’s hiding from everything at JP’s house with me. “You’re definitely good at crises. Your methodical, scientific approach is calming.”
“Most of the time, women just like my body.”
“Well, that’s nice too.” Itisa nice body. The man is genetically gifted. As I stare at Max, admiring the muscles outlined under his nerdy T-shirt, I remember that JP is on his way home. In a few hours my life will…be back to normal? Butwhat is normal? I don’t think it’s a relevant concept for me anymore.
I groan like everything hurts and mutter something and make a noise like I might vomit. “Ohmygod, what am I gonna do about that date?” Then I start in with the involuntary groaning again. The waves are pushing me toward failure’s rocky coastline and I’m just about to go down.#TheGoodLifefeels like an ironic statement on my prow.
“You’re set,” he said. “I gotcha covered, babe.”
I love the way he just called me babe, even if he didn’t mean it. I bet it just rolled off his tongue. I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m all heart eyes about it.
“I got a Groupon for the date tonight.”
A Groupon? As if I can send a trendy millionaire to some Groupon date at Dave & Buster’s. No one wants to go to Dave & Buster’s. I might as well send them to Chuck E. Cheese. “Max—” I start to say. It’s like he doesn’t understand anything. “Rich people want exclusivity.”
“I know it’s not ideal, but on short notice with no money? We’ve got limited options.”
“I’m scared to ask what it’s for.”
“I got a $100 voucher at a Brazilian steakhouse for $60, plus a couples massage.” He shrugs. “Sounds like a sweet date to me.”
Max is a simple creature. He sees the world in binaries: true versus false, right versus wrong, black versus white, eating out versus eating in, fine or not fine. He’s adorable and wrong and clearly not qualified to facilitate a romance. I pat his head like he’s a golden retriever.
“I just don’t think there’s any way to use a Groupon. What am I going to do, ask Jules to show it to the waiter so that he gets a discount when he pays? And is the place even Instagrammable?”
He nods. “I was thinking we could just have Crystal do that part. She can be in on it, right? And if we’re lucky, he won’t know what Groupon is.”
“I don’t know, Max. It doesn’t sound like it’ll work.”
Jules is trendy. The only way he’d go for the Groupon is if I said the steakhouse had the best lighting for selfies, or if he was really into irony. Maybe I can make Max’s plan work. Coffee first, though.
We head downstairs and Max passes me a cup of freshly brewed coffee over the large kitchen island. I take a stool across from him.
“You look better today,” he says. “Not that you didn’t look great yesterday. Just more rested.”
“I feel better except for the panic, dread, and anxiety.”
“It’ll be fine.”
They’re just words, but when he says them, I perk up.
“If you don’t like the Groupon idea, I have something else up my sleeve.”
I give him ago onlook while I reach for the box of Sugar in the Raw on the counter and stir some into my coffee.
“So, if you drive down the Pacific Coast Highway past Laguna, there’s this little cove. I went there once and it was filled with these glowing jellyfish. It was incredible.”
My jaw drops. Now that sounds unique and romantic. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”
“I can’t really remember where it is.”
