“She’s my date on Saturday,” he added quietly.
“Saturday?” Derek narrowed his eyes. “You mean this Saturday, the anniversary of your mother’s death, which you’ll be spending in the same room as your father and brother?”
“Yeah, that one,” Max muttered.
“Ah, good choice. You really know how to sweep a woman off her feet.”
“Fuck you,” growled Max. “It was the best option I had. She’ll know what my life is like now. Because it’s only going to get worse.”
Derek clapped him on the back. “Okay, bro. Not sure what the hell you’re thinking here.”
“Fucked if I know.”
His friend was quiet, and his expression softened, the way it did when he talked about his wife, Laurie. “Is it time for us to have a sappy follow-your-heart talk?”
Derek was probably Max’s closest friend—one of the only people he could actually have this conversation with. When Max’s mother’s prognosis had gone from bad to worse, it had been Derek who convinced him to take a few months off and be with her. That asking for such a long stretch of leave wasn’t abusing his privilege and didn’t come from a sense of entitlement. That his love for his mother was worth the same as anyone else’s, that he was doing it for his mother as much as he was for himself.
If anyone understood why this was making him crazy, it was Derek.
“Christ, Derek,” he grumbled. “It’s notmyheart that I’m thinking about. I don’t want to break her heart, and I’m not sure I can be the person she wants to fall in love with.”
“Why don’t you let her make her own decision about whether or not you’ll make her happy?”
“I think she already did,” he said flatly. “She ran in the other direction. Literally.”
“But she’s going to your mother’s event.”
“As far as I know,” Max said, frowning. “I just can’t bring myself to tell her that the pressure is only going to get worse. The fact that I didn’t tell her shows how low I’ll stoop just to see her again.”
Derek chuckled. “Sounds like you could be falling in love, my friend. Welcome to the club.”
