I ran my index fingers gently under both of my eyes in an attempt to wipe away the dark smudging from my mascara and eyeliner alike. It hardly helped at all. It merely pushed the inky stains outward, where they remained in two circular smudges at the corner of each eye.
“I look like an oversized inkblot.”
I felt like one too.
All my insides had melted together into a mixing pot of hurt and pity. I felt sorry for me, but even more sorry for Max, and I worried about the baby coming into the world in a storm of confusion.
After wiping furiously at my eyes some more and only managing to make things slightly better, I pulled the blinds back up and gazed out at the sunny afternoon. The world still carried on all around me. It had a funny way of doing that.
When Piper left for the year to spend each month with one of her Casanova bachelors, time had slowed down a bit. My days still looked relatively the same, except for when I came home to no Piper. But I settled into that because for some innocent reason I believed it was temporary, and when her twelve months were up, she’d come back to New York with her new beau on her arm, and we’d make things work, just like we always did.
I hadn’t expected her to move to another state.
After she’d moved in with Wyatt and gotten married, time continued hurtling by. It reminded me that even though I was longing for what had been, there was no way for me to stop it.
This felt like that but on steroids.
The news from Max about the baby had paralyzed me. I was the sword in the stone, stuck, trapped, and as I stood there cold and alone, everyone else’s life continued inching forward to new ends—ends I no longer had a place in.
“He’s going to be a father,” I said to the glass where I could no longer see my reflection clearly. “And you’re going to have to accept that one way or another.”
But I don’t want to.
“You have to,” I insisted.
What would Max say if he knew I was having this conversation with myself? Would he swoop in to help me like he had when I called him drunk from my bathtub back in my New York apartment? Would he drop everything for me?
Could I still let him do that when he had so much more on his plate?
I shook my head and let my gaze fall to the floor. “You can’t be the damsel. Not anymore.”
Tears threatened to blur my vision once more.
With a sharp intake of breath, I lifted my head, smoothed out my blouse, and gathered my resolve around me like a second layer of skin. Right now was the time to be strong. I had to get the hell out of this office. I had to find a quiet, safe place to process all of this.
There were worse things than people seeing my tear-stained cheeks.
I collected my purse, turned off my computer, and hurried out of my office. Nobody out in the hall or office lobby paid me much mind as I walked briskly past my office window and Max’s door.
His voice carried out of his office. His door was open half an inch, not enough for me to see him moving around in there, but just enough for me to hear his sharp, frustrated tone.
He’d never spoken to me like that.
Sure, I’d heard him get frustrated. And on more than one occasion, that frustration had been directed at me. It wasn’t uncommon for us to argue at the end of our relationship. But I’d never heard the edge his voice held now. His tone was as sharp as a knife and hollow at the same time.
I lingered at the door and listened.
“You’re not making any sense,” Max grated. “You asked for support. This is what support looks like, Sienna. What do you want me to do, sit back and wait for you to keep me in the loop? This is important. This is—”
She cut him off.
I bit my bottom lip and looked around. Nobody was paying any attention to me. The receptionist was on the phone behind the front desk and clicking away on her computer, most likely making appointments and updating Max’s calendar. Shawn was nowhere in sight luckily, because he’d most definitely have tapped me on the shoulder and gently suggested I give the boss man some privacy. Everyone else was hurrying to and fro across the office, going about their business.
I was the only one who heard Max beg Sienna to see him tomorrow.
“Please,” he said. “I need to see you for myself. I need to know you and the baby are okay. How am I supposed to do that from here?”
Whatever she said, he didn’t like it.
“I hardly see how those two things are the same,” he said.
The conversation escalated. Max barked into the line that she could do whatever she damn well pleased before he slammed the office phone down. I heard his chair creak and assumed he’d fallen into it.
Unable to help myself, I nudged the door open a crack and popped my head in. “Max?”
He was slumped in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. His eyes were closed, and when I spoke his name, he didn’t open them.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
How many times would I have to ask him this over the coming months? Weekly? Daily? How many times would he lie?
How many times would I do the same?
“She doesn’t make any damn sense,” he said.
I let myself into his office and closed the door behind me. “What did she say?”
He let his hand fall to the armrest of the chair and gazed tiredly up at me. “She has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow and I asked if I could drive her and be there with her so I know what’s going on. So I could support her. But she said no. She would rather go alone. She did ask, however, if I could send her some money so she could go pamper herself at the spa afterward and manage her stress.”
I blinked.
Max chuckled, but there was no humor in the sound. It was bitter and cold, like an unfinished love song. “I don’t know why I expected anything different from her.”
“Maybe she feels like she has to do this alone?” I didn’t know Sienna, but I knew Max, and I wanted to offer him something supportive and comforting rather than speaking my mind.
It seemed weird to me. Why wouldn’t Sienna want Max Fisher, the most glorious man on the entire planet, to accompany her to a doctor’s appointment? If I were in her shoes, I’d want him stuck to my side like glue. Screw the spa. Just give me Max.
“Maybe,” he sighed.
I moved across the office and around his desk so I could lean against it and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m here for you, even if it hurts.”
Max tilted his head back and gazed up at me.
I forced myself to smile and knew he saw right through me. Nevertheless, he reached out too and gently rested his hand on my hip.
I swallowed.
Max got slowly to his feet. We were inches apart, the toes of our shoes practically touching, and his hand was still on my hip. My heart did a little hop-step in my chest like it was trying to play hopscotch all by itself. My fingers trembled and I pulled away from his shoulder.
He caught my wrist in his hand. “I hope you know I wish I could have protected you from this.”
“From what?” I asked lamely. I knew what he meant. The truth.
“All of it.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
Was I glad? Not really. Was this worse than New York? Also not really. No matter where I was right now, I was empty. Maybe this was the closure I needed but didn’t want. Maybe the knowledge of Max’s future unfolding right in front of me would be enough of a kick in the ass for me to finally get my shit together and move on.