I slide the phone face down on the tablecloth and look at my sister. She’s grinning, that old spark of mischief back in her eyes. Instead of the usual irritation, I feel a strange sense of ease.
I reach out and take my mom’s hand. “But no confessions today,” I say. “Let’s just be grateful and eat.”
I close my eyes as my mother starts to say grace. For once, I’m not planning the fastest escape route or calculating all the smart comebacks for when Justine says something annoying.
I’m right where I’m supposed to be.
“Amen.”
Beauty and the Bear
Max
It’s Saturday morning, and Eli and I are supposed to meet this afternoon to “talk.” Normally, I’d be pacing the floor, obsessively decoding what that actually means, but I can’t. Thankfully, I have a very loud, very welcome distraction sitting on my sofa.
I sit back down and hand her a coffee just as Eslin stops mid-sentence, her hands still suspended in the air as she describes the new soccer stadium. And the boys.
“And girl! How can that many beautiful, muscular men exist in one single space?”
I laugh, shaking my head at my best friend. Usually, she’s the definition of polished and professional, but the Atlanta Strikers seem to have broken her filter. I’m just grateful I got to see her while she’s in town.
She’s been going on for over an hour about the state-of-the-art medical wing at the new soccer stadium, detailing every second of her final interview to be the team therapist. Usually, I’m theone geeked out over high-end tech and modern infrastructure, but my brain has completely checked out.
“And they have these hydrotherapy pools, Max. Like, actual built-in resistance jets that track muscle fatigue in real-time. It’s insane,” she says, her eyes bright with the kind of professional hunger I used to recognize in my own reflection.
“That’s great, Es. Really,” I mutter, leaning back against my sofa. I try to look impressed, but I'm mostly just looking at the clock.
She pauses, her excitement faltering as she studies my face. “You haven't heard a word about those damn resistance jets, have you?”
“I heard 'jets,'” I offer weakly.
Eslin sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Max, talk to me.”
I let out a long, jagged breath. “Truth?”
She takes a slow sip of her coffee, her eyes narrowing as she tastes it. “Truth. And ew! Is there rum in here? And cocoa?”
I shrug, leaning against the counter. “Once you meet Holly from HollyDates, that drink will make all the sense in the world.”
“I mean, it does grow on you,” she admits, taking another cautious sip. “Now spill.”
“So, Eli wants totalk.”
“Okay. Words are good. Words are progress.”
He texted me he loved me last night but that was it. And it has me freaking out.
“And while I’m hoping he says he wants a long-distance relationship and wants to try to build something with me, part of me doesn’t want to be without him. I don’t want to try something long distance.”
“Wait,” she interrupts, “you want him to stay in Atlanta?”
I frown. “No! I…I want him to ask me to go back with him. To Canada.”
Eslin gasps, nearly sloshing her spiked cocoa onto my rug. “Maxine Palmer. You’re the woman who swore she’d never live with a man before marriage. You were the president of the Destiny’s Child ‘Independent Women’ club! What the actual hell and what have you done with my friend?”
I don’t argue. The fact that she’s saying curse words when she rarely curses says it all. I simply pull out my phone and show her that picture of him in the wild again—the one where he looks like he was carved out of mountain and man meat. Then I tell her about the massages and the way he caters to me.
“Point taken,” she says, eyeing the screen before taking another sip.
