Riley had given him permission to want whatever he wanted.
Now all he had to do was figure out what that was.
“So when is this wedding?” Riley asked. “You never said.”
“Couple of weeks,” Max responded, dipping the roller in paint andgetting to work. “You’re getting a hand-written invitation.”
“Ooh, fancy.” Riley grinned over at him. “Well, if you needanything in the meantime…”
“I think we’ll be okay,” Max said.
For the first time, he actuallybelievedthat. This had allstarted to seem impossible, like it was more work than two people alone couldaccomplish, but…
Well, now he was starting to realize they weren’t alone, for astart.
Max’s life was changing fast at the moment, and he didn’t have awhole lot to hang onto, but what hedidhave were the friends he’d made.Friends like Declan and Ash, like Riley--and by extension, Brent…
And like Connor. Who was probably his best friend in the world.
His really hot best friend.
Who he wanted to have sex with again.
He wasn’t exactly sure how to make that happen, but at least he’dgotten as far as admitting it to himself.
Maybe all he had to do next was admit it to Connor.
Chapter Nineteen
Connor hummed as he re-threaded his sewing needle, sitting back torelax as he worked on the personalized bunting he’d stupidly decided was anecessary detail.
The more details, the better chance they had to win, he kept tellinghimself. Max’s future happiness was riding on this, and he didn’t want to screwit up.
He wished now that he’d brought his sewing machine with him, butonce his career had taken off, he’d stopped doing most of his own sewinganyway. He hadn’t really expected to need it again.
Hand sewing was fine. Soothing, even. It just would have been alotfaster to do this by machine.
At least this way he got to sit back and watch mindless TV whilehe worked, which was as close to meditating as he ever got. It wasn’t the worstway to spend a Tuesday afternoon.
He was even expecting Max later, with the guest list he’dpromised.
Just as he was thinking about how nice it’d be to see Max, maybeeven hang out for an hour or so, Connor heard a familiar voice on the TV.
He hadn’t been paying attention to what he was watching, but itturned out to be an afternoon talk show.
With Dominique Heller as the next guest.
Connor’s stomach bottomed out. He wanted to reach for the remote,but he couldn’t stop himself from staring as Dominique walked across the set, afloral sundress swinging around her legs.
He should have looked away. He knew that. But shock kept him gluedto the TV.
He hadn’t actually watched TV in so long that he’d forgottencelebrities tended to show up on it from time to time. Especially rich,powerful women on shows that were aimed largely at other women.
The host introduced her as philanthropic socialite with a heart ofgold.
Connor’s stomach turned. He doubted he was the only person she’dreduced to tears, but money was enough to buy a better reputation than youdeserved, too.
He felt alone in not liking her. And there she was, smilingbrightly with her perfect teeth and beautiful glowing presence, and Connor was…
