The scent of coffee filled the room. But it couldn’t distract from the way I felt, staring at Fiona’s careful goals. I knew this shit was important to her. It was why I’d made sure we were on the same page before, well, before everything that had happened between us.
Even if she was just now figuring some details out, at the end of the day, Fiona still wanted a husband. She’d relaxed enough to accept me as I was, as long as I was honest and committed to try.
And I needed to remember she was counting on that honesty.
I walked back to the kitchen and filled two mugs with steaming coffee. Leaned back against the wall and listened to my instincts for a second, eyes closed.
When I was younger, I used to take my motorcycle out for winding rides without a map or sense of direction. It was an easy way to get to know a new place, get a lay of the land, a sense for where things were. Getting lost was kind of the point, and at every intersection, I’d just listen to my gut.
That instinct had been pushing me towards Fiona this whole damn time. Even though seeing those words made me jumpy, it seemed like this whole dating thing made everyone nervous.
I walked back into the sunny bedroom. Fiona was sitting up in bed, laptop on top of the covers. When she saw me, she beamed a big smile my way. “Guess what?”
I passed her a mug. “You’re going to play hooky from work so we can fuck all day in this bed.”
She paused, brows raised. “Not a bad idea, although it pains me to say I can’t play hooky today. But I just got a notification that we sold out of tickets.”
“What?”
She tackled me in a hug. “That’s $35,000 for your dad, Max. I think we’re going to do it. I think we’re going to save The Red Room.”
“You’re serious?” I asked, astonished.
“I really am.” She pulled back, grabbed her phone. “I need to talk with Edward, see how the sponsorship deal is going. Maybe you could ask some of the bands if they want to donate to the cause, just in case? All of that could take us right over the goal.”
“Of course, yeah.” I let out a sigh of relief. “I need to call Pop. He’s going to be so happy.”
“You think he spent the night at his place or…” Fiona asked.
“I’m sure he stayed at his place,” I said. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if he was taking Angela out to breakfast. Which I would love to do for you too.”
She groaned, falling back onto the bed. “Clients need me. I’ve got two massive deadlines over the next five days.” She bit her lip, held my hand. “I won’t be around very much.”
I kissed her palm. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll work on final details for the show. And will stay available for late-night sex.”
She kissed the top of my head before heading toward her shower. I reached for her hand, caught it. “Fiona.”
When she turned, I could tell she sensed my serious tone. “I leave for L.A. right after the concert. Like the night after.”
I saw her deflate and try to cover it up. I tugged her until she fell into my lap. “This job, it’s the kind that doesn’t come around often. It’s a big deal, and I don’t say that casually or anything. I mean it. And most jobs to me aren’t that big of a deal.”
“I understand jobs being a big deal.” She indicated the framed accomplishments on her bedroom wall. “And I really am happy that you got this one. You’re really talented, Max. You deserve to have something like this in your life.”
But what if I want you in my life more?
That was—technically—the truth. I just didn’t know how I did both. How was I suddenly in this position to care about a relationship and a job at the same time?
“I think… I mean, I need to go. To California,” I said.
Her smile looked fixed. “I know.”
“But the first thirty days are a trial period. For them and for me. Who knows if I’ll like it or like the city. That’s up in the air.”
“You’ll like it,” she said, sounding sad.
I thought she was probably right. It was likely I’d love this job. But I listened to my gut and tried to be as brave as she’d been.
“You ever keep dating someone when they live far away?”
“Not yet.” She bit her lip. “Are you trying to have Skype sex with me, Max Devlin?”
I wrapped my arms around her more tightly. “I’m trying to have sex with you in all the ways. I think I’ve made that clear.” I ran my nose along her jaw. I’d been right. Fiona was sweet and cuddly and gorgeous in the morning. “But if we’re taking this thing one day at a time… would you do that with me over the phone?”
I watched the battle on her face. If this was out of control, long-distance dating was probably on another level for Fiona. Future husbands usually lived close to their future wives.
So I was a little surprised when she said, “I’d like that.”
My eyebrows shot up. She kissed my forehead. “One day at a time.”
“I want to keep trying with you,” I whispered.
“Okay,” she said slowly. Firmly. “Then let’s do it.” She stood up, still holding my hand. “And I’ve got twenty uninterrupted minutes in the shower. If you’d like a quickie before I leave for work.”
I was naked and following her before the words left her mouth.
35
Max
An hour later, I was still whistling—with slightly wet hair—when I pulled up on my bike outside of Pop’s place. What Fiona and I had talked about wasn’t going to be some perfect solution. But I felt a little better at least.
Even if thinking about riding on out of New York City wasn’t feeling as good or as easy as it would have a week ago.
I tugged off my helmet and caught sight of a familiar figure I hadn’t seen in a year.
“Hiya, Max.”
My mother was standing outside our apartment building—leather jacket, long gray hair, looking much older than the last time I’d ever seen her here in the city. Which was probably ten years ago at least.
“Mom?” I stepped off the bike, shocked. “What… what are you doin’ here?”
She shrugged and grinned—the charming, charismatic grin that probably got her into as much trouble as it did me. She walked right up and hugged me hard, rocking back and forth. “Oh, it’s good to see ya. Have you gotten taller?”
“I haven’t had a growth spurt since I was teenager.”
“Ah.” She stepped back, patted my arms. “Well, you look different.”
My eyebrow arched. “Well, I haven’t seen you in more than a year. Where…” I stalled, realized I was about to sound like Mateo when I’d strolled into his art gallery like an asshole. Where the hell have you been?
On the road, I’d been without the community I’d re-found here. But after a week of Fiona and Pop and Mateo and the Quinns, her devil-may-care attitude about parenting seemed flimsy when it used to seem normal. It was who she was.
But she looked so happy to see me, and it was my mom, and I was always yearning for more time with her, truthfully. So I ignored my irritation and hugged her again. “Sorry, I meant to ask where you’ve been staying?”