“You can have that after.”
Scrunching my nose, I helped myself to some of the fresh fruit. “You’re banned from doing the shopping.”
He merely smiled.
From the time we’d come back from Millbrae, Max seemed determined that we eat right. Healthy. I knew why. My diet wasn’t healthy. With Mom’s illness, chances were that Ray or I could also end up being diabetic or having hypertension.
Pushing that troubling thought aside, I ate a piece of melon, then asked him, “Are you going to Carmel for the barbecue?”
“No.” Zero hesitation.
“Why not?”
“My parents aren’t like yours, Logan. My father can’t stand me these days, my mother…much as I loved her, I think she used me in her own way against my father.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. Silence took over, broken by the sounds of cutlery clinking on bowls. I ate more of my fruit.
“You don’t agree.”
I looked up. “What?”
“You think I should go to Carmel?”
A sigh escaped me. Slowly, I set my spoon down. “It’s not about whatIthink, Max. There are some things in life we cannot avoid forever. It was hard for me to go to the fair, knowing I’d have to face my past, but I realized it had to be done. But you were there, and made it easier for me.”
More silence followed.
Maybe because my parents loved me, I wanted that for him, too. More, I saw how much this was destroying him. “Max, if it were me, I’d try.”
He cut me a dark look. “Is that my penalty?”
Confused, I stared at him. “What?”
“At the paintball arena, you asked what the loser penalty was?”
“Max, that was for fun, this is serious.”
“If you’re not using your free pass to get me to do what you want—”
“I’m not going to do that. Max…” I searched his implacable features. “Don’t you want to go?”
He finished his cereal, then eyed me for a long, contemplative moment. “Fine, but you’re coming with me.”
Uh-oh. I eyed him warily. Meet his family—his father? The man who blamed Max for his mother’s death? My first instinct was to say no, but Max had been there for me when I needed him,andhe’d bravedmyDad. “All right.”
He gave a terse nod. “What’s your schedule for today?”
“I’m going to the store for a few hours, then I’ll work at home. Oh, I’ve been meaning to tell you, I have more space in my studio, you can set up your keyboard there.”
“I’ll only be in your way.” A smile. “Then you’ll want to throw me out of the house after hearing the same piece played a million times.”
“You won’t. Besides, I usually work at home in the afternoons, and when I paint alone, I normally have my earphones on. Since I know you work withyourheadphones on, it shouldn’t be a problem, right?”
The smile lingered. His gaze thoughtful. “On one condition. You show me your work, the ones you paint for yourself, and I’ll think about it.”
“I don’t know why you want to see those,” I grumbled. “They aren’t any good. I wasn’t in a good place when I did them—”
“Logan.”
