Page 19 of Lovesick

Chapter 7

Flagging a cab, Max realized he was hungry because they’d never gone to dinner. He called his sitter. She was fine and of course told him to take his time.

“Even older people deserve to stay out and have fun sometimes,” she said.

“You’re right.” He’d had more than his share of fun for the night, but he realized the last thing he wanted to do was go home to bed by himself right now. He was too wired. So he called his friend Nick.

“Where are you?” Nick said.

“On my way home. I’m starved. Meet me at the Grill.”

“Wait a sec, didn’t you go out to dinner—”

“Never mind.” Max realized too late how it sounded, like he’d skipped dinner to . . . do exactly what he did. The whistle Nick let out on the other end would have pierced his eardrums if he hadn’t moved the phone from his ear.

“I gotta hear about this one. I’ll be at the Grill in five.” Max shoved his phone into his pocket and got out of the taxi as it pulled to the curb. He handed the driver a ten-dollar bill through the front window. The fare was only four dollars, but he was in a generous mood, enjoying a sense of well-being from his night’s activities, even as muffled as they were by the disquiet that rumbled through him each and every time he thought of Lou. In bed. Stepping inside his all-night neighborhood haunt, he shoved aside the trouble, ready for a beer, if not a meal.

Before Max had a chance to take his first sip, Nick walked through the door with a grin too wide to trust.

Sliding onto the stool next to him at the bar, Nick clapped him on the back hard enough to spill some beer over the edge of his glass.

“How’s my latent Lothario doing? I thought you were hungry? Where’s the food? Or did having the dessert before the main course—”

“Watch it, Nick. We’re talking about a lovely lady, not a stranger.”

“So tell me? What’s the deal? Since when have you been a ladies’ man?”

Taking a long slug of beer, he considered his friend and what the hell he wanted to tell him, because he had wanted to talk to him, to dissolve the disquiet, unravel his dilemma and make the confusion about this crazy lust and possible affair more clear. He put his mug down with a thunk and felt like they were twenty-two again, in college together, trading stories of girl trouble and triumphs. Mostly trouble.

Turning to Nick’s curious grin, he said, “She’s all wrong for me—not my type at all. She has Maker’s Mark in her minibar and I have Jack Daniels.”

Nick laughed. “At least you both like whiskey.”

Max gave his friend a withering smile and his middle finger.

“Hey, you’re just having a fling, so who cares? It’s not like you’re marrying her.” Nick stopped, his grin fading. “Or are you?”

Max raised his middle finger again and his insides twisted. He had no plans to marry anyone, possibly ever again. And his friend knew this. And yet, Max wasn’t a fling kind of guy. Or maybe Lou wasn’t a fling kind of woman. She was too . . . special. Deserved better.

“I’m barely recovered from my last stab at marriage.”

“Then it’s a fling. A well-deserved, hot affair.” Nick drank down the rest of his beer and ordered them up another round.

“Sounds like it should work, doesn’t it?” Max shook his head. “But there are too many complications. You know I don’t want to subject Tim to the instability of women coming in and out of his life.”

“Tim never has to know. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“She’s out of my league. She owns the company I work for. That makes an affair tricky, don’t you think?”

“The solution to that problem is simple. Quit the job.”

“I can’t. They’re counting on me. Louise is counting on me to help them win the vote to keep Regal’s a family company.”

“Sounds crazy to me.” Nick shook his head. “Then hold off until after the vote. When is it? A couple of weeks? You can keep her at arm’s length for a couple lousy weeks, right? You’re the man when it comes to self-discipline. At least that’s the way I remember it before I dropped out of med school and you left me in the dust.”

“Sounds simple. But you’re talking about a guy who couldn’t even wait until after dinner to . . . ravage this woman. I honestly don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Nick laughed. “Lovesick. No known cure.”