Amanda came to an abrupt halt on the sidewalk. “Oh my God. You’ll have to come out, Harper. The night of the dance. Will you help me get ready?”
I didn’t know what to say. I concentrated on trying not to look too shocked. I really liked Amanda and at every turn, Max kept surprising me. I wanted to encroach on their world a little longer, but I knew it was entirely inappropriate.
Max cocked his head, indicating she needed to keep walking. “Amanda. That’s enough. You can’t just assume people want to be monopolized by you.”
We resumed walking north towards Sixtieth. “Why not? Grandma says that I get all my charm from her and that God skipped a generation with you.”
I laughed and Max rolled his eyes.
Thankfully, Amanda’s attention had been diverted away from me. “Oh, I meant to say that I’ve decided I want to enter that piano competition next semester,” she said.
“I thought we checked a few months ago and you have gymnastics the night of the practice, or will the schedule change next semester?” Max asked.
He seemed to have an intricate knowledge of his daughter’s schedule, which if someone had told me yesterday, I would have thought it impossible. But as the day wore on, it was clear he was more involved in his daughter’s life than I’d given him credit for.
“Well, gymnastics is at six and then piano is at eight. So I think I can do both if we can get Marion to drive me.”
This was such a different version of Max King—warm, open, and relaxed. So far removed from the impatient, ruthless man who’d founded King & Associates, to the demanding, sexy man who worked my body as if it belonged to him. This Max King was a father and a family man.
Thunder cracked above us. “I told you it was going to rain,” Max said. “Come on.” He held his hand out for me and then, as if he remembered who we were to each other, withdrew it and nodded up Third Avenue as if we were nearly there instead of two blocks away.
We weren’t going to make it. Generous dots of rain began to color the ground.
“Come on, Harper,” Amanda called as she and Max started to run.
Amanda pointed at a flash of light above us and began to count, “One banana, two banana, three banana, four banana.” Thunder ended her countdown and Amanda squealed. “Quick, it’s nearly here.”
I ran behind them as we wove in between tourists and underneath umbrellas. As we arrived at Serendipity, the lightning flashed again and the rain began to fall more heavily. “Let’s get inside,” I said, and we piled into an already crowded entrance and waited to be seated.
“Do I look like a drowned rat, Dad?” Amanda asked, beaming up at her father. She was a beautiful girl who had inherited the large green eyes, olive skin, and near-black hair from her father.
Max chuckled. “A little bit.”
I wiped my under eyes, trying to remove the inevitable mascara leak. “I’m sure I look like Alice Cooper,” I said.
“You look very pretty, like from a movie or something,” Amanda said. “Doesn’t she, Dad?”
I shook my head and a soaked strand of hair plastered itself against my cheek. To my surprise, Max reached out and tucked it around my ear. Heat coursed through me and I wanted to reach for his hand, push my fingers through his. But instead I concentrated on the waitress behind Max, worried I’d lose control if I looked at him, maybe pull him into a kiss as I did that first night we were together.
He quickly turned back to Amanda and took her face in her hands. “Not as pretty as my drowned rat,” he replied.
“Gah. That’s why I’m never going to get a baby sister.” She twisted away from him. “You need to learn to give ladies compliments, or you’ll never get married.”
Married? I kept my eyes firmly on the restaurant, hoping my makeup hid the red in my cheeks. For the first time since leaving the dress store, I felt as if I shouldn’t be here. Our conversation in the laundry room came back to me. She wanted her dad to find someone. Was Amanda trying to set us up? She had to know that Max and I were . . . We weren’t involved like that, weren’t ever going to be involved like that.
Chapter 10
Max
The day with Harper and Amanda had been far . . . easier than I expected. After finally getting on the train back to Connecticut, Amanda couldn’t stop talking about her dress and Harper and how much she liked her. And I hadn’t stopped her.
“We could invite Harper to dinner,” Amanda said as she set out the knives and forks on the counter in the kitchen.
“Maybe . . . at some point.” Would she like it here? Would she like me here? I wasn’t sure.
“Well it will be the dance soon anyway. Harper will come then for sure.”
I wasn’t sure Harper had actually accepted that invitation. But Amanda was happy and that was all I could wish for. The fact Harper had picked out a perfect dress didn’t hurt. I’d wondered if she’d secretly try something trashy, just to mess with me, get her own back for me being an asshole. I wouldn’t have blamed her but she hadn’t. She’d been bright and beautiful and all about Amanda. And I’d found myself wanting to extend our time together, keep her for a little bit longer.
“Who’s Harper,” my sister, Violet, asked. I smelled an interrogation brewing, and my instinct was to press pause on this situation and escape.
“I told you, the girl that works with dad who helped me pick out the dress.”
“I thought a friend of yours had gone shopping with you,” Violet said to Amanda, trying to catch my eye, but I deliberately busied myself with the salad.
“She is a friend of mine,” Amanda replied. “She lives in the same building in the city as dad.”
“And she works with your father?” Violet asked as she reached over the counter and took a chunk of cucumber and popped it in her mouth. I glanced at Amanda, who was nodding. “That seems like a strange coincidence.” She lowered her voice. “You see a pretty girl in the corridor of your building and offer her a job sharpening your pencils?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I replied and handed her the salad to put on the counter.
A bang on the door caused Amanda to squeal. “Scarlett!” My sisters were determined to overrun me tonight. Violet lived in Brooklyn, so we didn’t see her as often as Scarlett, but she still made an effort to come over once a month. I liked my sisters, but the fewer there were of them in a room at any one time, the better. I grabbed a bottle of Pinot Noir from the counter and uncorked it.
“Hey, asshole,” Scarlett said as she entered the family room.
“Nice to see you, too.” I handed her a glass of wine and kissed her on the cheek.
“I’m serious. Why didn’t you call me back?” Scarlett asked.
“When?” I asked. I didn’t remember getting a message.
“I left you a voicemail telling you about my friend April,” Scarlett said as she dropped her purse on the counter and took a stool. “She asked me to fix you two up, although God knows why.”
“I didn’t get the message.” Or maybe I’d only listened halfway through and deleted it before she could get to the bit about April. “Sorry.”