

### LIKE THE RED SKY AT MORNING

a novel

Brielle Skye

Gypsy Pen

Publishing

Copyright © 2015 by Brielle Skye

Gypsy Pen Publishing

For questions, address:

P.O. Box 1010

New York, NY 10156

Distributed by Smashwords

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

Cover layout and design by Ellie Bockert Augsburger of CreativeDigitalStudios.com

Author photo by George Urbina of Lebeauphotos.tumblr.com

Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

FIRST EDITION

ISBN 978-0-99-16506-2-0

For my sister, Paris, who made it possible for me to

travel all the way to Australia and finish this book.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

#

NOW

Maxie Shannen moved slowly as she untangled herself from the knot of sheets that ensnared her, careful not to disturb the motionless figure snoring lightly at her side. It should have been easy enough. Vince slept on the other side of the large bed, his back to her, his arms tucked under himself. He never rolled over to reach for her in the middle of the night, his hands never found her through the haze of slumber. Yet, when she lowered her feet to the floor, he stirred.

With a groan, he turned over. "You're leaving?"

"Yes," she said, pulling her dress on over her head and frowning at all the tiny wrinkles in the soft fabric.

"You don't have to," he said. "I mean, you can crash here if you want."

"Thanks," she said, though she continued preparing for her departure. He sighed at her reflection; her hair—which had lain in neat, silky strands when she'd arrived at Vince's apartment just an hour prior—now stuck up defiantly, reaching out in every direction.

"I'll take that as a no," he said with a chuckle.

"It's my best friend's birthday," she explained, not bothering to mention that she would have been leaving even if it _weren't_ Van's birthday. "She's throwing a surprise party."

He cocked an eyebrow. "For herself?"

"That's Van for you," Maxie replied with a shrug. "Have you seen my panties?"

He didn't reply. His eyes were on the bare skin of her chest, where the neckline of her dress plummeted nearly to her belly button. "Funny," he said. "Seeing you only _half_ -naked does just as much for me as seeing you buck. Maybe even _more_."

"What does helping me find my panties do for you?" she asked, shaking out the sheet she'd previously discarded.

Pretending to contemplate for a moment, he replied, "Nothing, actually."

"I can't go to the party without my panties," she said. "Get up, see if they're under you."

"Didn't you take them off in the living room?"

"Ah!" she recalled, snapping her fingers. "That's right." In the living room, her panties sat on the arm of the couch, her bra on the floor just below it. Grabbing them both, she went back into the room to apply her makeup. In a room full of Van's friends, makeup was the _least_ she could do for herself.

Vince remained in bed, watching her intently as she colored her full lips a rich, dark red and edged her eyes with sharp, black lines. "I've never seen you in makeup," he said, admiring her.

"Why would you have?"

He shrugged. "You really clean up well, huh?" She didn't reply as she attempted to tame her unruly mane. The roots were starting to frizz, the ends beginning to curl. Suddenly he was behind her. His hands trailed up her thighs, bringing her dress up with them. He pushed her hair forward and dropped a moist kiss on her neck. "One more time?" he purred against her ear.

"I'd love to," she said, and she even halfway meant it. "But I really need to go."

She slipped out from under his touch and bent to strap on her shoes.

"Maybe I should take you on a _real_ date sometime," he suggested.

Finally looking at him, she smiled politely. "Isn't this fun? The way it is, I mean."

"The most fun I've had in a while," he admitted.

She nodded and scooped up her purse as she headed for the door. "Great. Me, too. Keep your phone on in case I want to come back later."

"No kiss goodbye?" he called after her, but she shut the front door behind her without a reply.

It was nearly nine o'clock when Maxie stepped into the apartment that she shared with Van. The living room and kitchen were both filled with people, a majority of whom Maxie had only spoken to for the first time when she reached out to them to invite them to the party. There was no mistaking the lot of them for Van's friends, though; tall, fashionable, and a shade or two more attractive than the general population. None more attractive than Van herself, though. Van didn't keep friends more attractive than herself.

"Max! You're here!" Bea, Maxie's closest friend next to Van, came weaving through the small crowd. Her long, fire-red locks were wrapped up in a beehive-like bun on the crown of her head, and she'd replaced her usual frayed jeans with a knee length skirt, though her old, tattered sneakers were still in place. "Where were you? I thought you would miss the surprise."

"Van would kill me if I missed her surprise. Or maybe she wouldn't even notice," she amended, scanning the room. "Look at all of these people. She'll be so happy."

"I was surprised by the turnout, too. I was _positive_ you were the only one who liked her that much."

_Not the only one_ , Maxie thought, catching Isaac's eye from across the room. He looked even more handsome than usual, clean cut and clean-shaven especially for his girlfriend's birthday.

And he was staring back at Maxie.

She could remember having lived for those very moments. Those short seconds when he'd look at her and everything she felt on the inside was there on his face. She'd wait for his subtle glances, passing grazes, late night visits to steal a few moments alone.

Only when Van was asleep.

The thought made her shudder with shame. Now she barely found reason to meet his eyes. Everything she'd ever looked for in them was gone. Anything that remained she didn't want to see. "Anyway," she said, shifting her attention back to Bea. "You look nice."

With a grin, Bea replied, "I figured I might bag myself a male model tonight."

Frowning, Maxie gave the room another once-over. "I think all of _these_ male models are gay."

"I've done worse," Bea said with a shrug.

Maxie laughed, but just as quickly lost her mirth as Isaac approached. "Where have you been?" he asked. "I expected you hours ago."

"Work," she lied, averting her eyes so as not to meet Bea's.

He studied her briefly, maybe looking for the truth on her face. Thanks to him, she was better than ever at keeping the truth from there. "Alright," he said, after a moment. "Well, Van just called me. She's outside so she'll be up any minute. Maybe we should light the candles?"

"I guess it's showtime," Maxie agreed, clapping her hands together. "Let's get this over with." Bea followed her to the kitchen where they pulled the sheet cake from its large box. Bea nudged her. "Work, huh?"

Maxie bit down on her bottom lip. She could lie, insist that—this time—she actually _was_ at work. But Bea was the one person, the lone soul, who Maxie had _never_ lied to, who she had never _had_ to lie to. "I was with Vince," she admitted at last.

" _Vince_? What about Damien?"

With the wave of a hand, Maxie said, "Damien always wanted to hold hands."

"Oh!" said Bea with false bewilderment. "You mean after sex? How _dare_ he."

Rolling her eyes, Maxie said, "That isn't what I want. I want easy and detached. No kissing, no cuddling. No sleepovers and breakfast in bed—"

"I still cannot believe you stopped seeing Mark because he brought you breakfast in bed. I mean, seriously, Max. I don't even know who you are anymore. You used to live for that romantic shit."

Maxie tried not to look at Isaac. She bit down on her bottom lip to keep from reminding Bea of where her vulnerable heart had gotten her. Tricked. Played. Used. It had turned her against her best friend. Turned her into a girl she didn't recognize, was ashamed of.

"You know," Bea went on, "I _wish_ I had a man who wanted to cuddle until we fell asleep and then bring me breakfast in bed."

Glancing across the room at Bea's date—ten years her senior though his smooth face gave him the appearance of a man much younger—Maxie said, "What? Is he married?"

"Divorced. With two kids that he keeps telling me are his niece and nephew." She rolled her eyes. "That's what _I_ get stuck with. I'll trade the divorcee with secret children for breakfast in bed any day."

Lifting the cake, Maxie shrugged. "Well, Mark is available. Go for it."

She didn't wait for Bea to reply before she made her way to the center of the room in anticipation of Van's arrival. Everyone quieted as the clicking of keys in the lock sounded. When Van pushed the door open, the room erupted. " _Surprise!_ "

Shock seized Van's features and she slapped her hand to her chest. When everyone began to sing _Happy Birthday_ , she pressed her lips together in a modest smile. It was all Maxie could do not to laugh out loud.

Just the evening before, Van had spent hours picking out the perfect outfit, one that looked unplanned yet superior, as she'd practiced her shocked face in the mirror; it had to seem natural, while still camera-friendly. Of course, her performance was flawless. Maxie considered recommending her roommate take up acting instead of modeling.

Van made her way across the room, pausing often to hug and kiss, greet and thank her guests for coming. "I had no idea," she said. "Seriously, I had no _idea_!"

Finally, she made it to the cake. She'd chosen it herself and insisted it say, _Happy Birthday, Savannah._ No one but her mother ever called her Savannah, but she thought for the occasion, using her full name was appropriate. Meeting Maxie's eyes over the dancing flames of the candles, she smiled widely. _We did it_ , she was saying.

"Make a wish," said Maxie.

"Well, I already have everything I could possibly ask for," Van replied, "but I _have_ had my eyes on a pair of shoes lately, so..." Everyone laughed as she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and blew out all of the candles.

There were only ten. After all, the candles were just for aesthetics, they didn't _actually_ need to remind people that she was getting older, she'd said. "Don't you think the birthday party itself will remind people?" Maxie had asked, but Van only waved her off. Ten candles it was.

Once they were all blown out, Maxie retreated to the kitchen to cut the cake while Van continued to socialize with her guests. She found Isaac and clung to him, her arm laced through his. They both wore blue—another one of Van's insistences—and Maxie had to admit that she'd been right when she'd said it would make them look more connected, like a unit. They certainly did look like a unit.

Maxie looked away.

With her new view of the couple—an outsider looking in now, rather than a clandestine, devious insider—she could see that they fit together far better than she and Isaac ever had. Both tall and graceful with perfect faces and perfect bodies. Eventually, they would undoubtedly produce angelic-looking children.

"Well, I'm not sure what I want to taste first," came a voice from behind her. She blinked, snapping out of her bitterness-induced daze, and turned to find a grinning Daniel Gnar before her. "The cake, or you."

He looked the same as he had the last time she saw him, six months prior, though maybe even more handsome now than before, with the shadow of a beard canvasing his square jaw.

He was still so tall, so broad, so solid, so plainly comfortable in his own skin. He carried himself with more ease then men half his size, though most men were only half as good looking, half as charming, half as absolutely certain of themselves. Taking his bottom lip in between his teeth, he stared down at her, his eyes dancing over her hair, her face, her bare shoulders and chest. "Look at you," he said at last.

She could smell his cologne; the same one he'd always worn. It wrapped itself around her like a seductive embrace, and she lowered her face so he wouldn't see her grin. "Look at _you_ ," she replied.

"Are you the one to thank for this?" he asked, motioning toward the party.

"Some of it," she said. "The food, mostly. Van pretty much did the rest."

"Van planned her own surprise party." He chuckled at that, and the sound struck Maxie right in the chest. She inhaled deeply to steady herself but his scent was only more dizzying. She wanted to reach up and touch his face; the curve of his cheek, the fullness of his bottom lip. She remembered—quite distinctly, in fact— how his lips had felt on hers, and the memory made her temperature rise a degree.

"How have you been, anyway? It's been a while," he said. His eyebrows went up at that and Maxie's face reddened.

"Yeah," she said, "sorry about that. I've just been working a lot." _Avoiding you._ "You wouldn't believe how insanely busy these last few months have kept me." _Not busy enough to stop thinking about you_. "I meant to call..." _I erased your number. It was the only way I could stop myself from using it._

He nodded. "Sure, I get it. I mean, fitting a phone call into such a small period of time—"

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "Really."

Again, he nodded. "It's fine, Max. I guess I can't say that I'm surprised. I just thought..." His voice trailed off. Then, with a shrug, he said, "Anyway. How's work? Still looking after Charlie?"

"No, actually. I'm working at a restaurant now. I'm a waitress. Far cry from the New York School of Performing Arts, I know, but I like it. And one day, when I open my own restaurant, this experience will be completely relevant—"

"Whoa," he said, raising his palms to her. "Defense mode is still your default setting, I see. Look, I'm not Kathy, alright? I think it's great that you're working in the restaurant industry. If you're happy. Are you happy?"

She nodded and smiled. "I am." The answer felt like a revelation, even to herself. She _was_ happy. She spent most of her days learning more about the very business she hoped to contribute her own significant piece to one day. She spent her evenings in the arms of men she was in no danger of falling in love with, or being hurt by. Conflict of interest was no longer an issue in her romantic affairs.

Somehow, she learned to tolerate life in the same apartment as Van and Isaac. Accept it. Averted gazes and avoided encounters contributed mostly to her success in distancing herself from the pair. She only cooked dinner a few nights during the week when Isaac was off tending to the gym he owned in Brooklyn, and breakfast on weekends when Van slept into the late morning after long nights at her bar job. In Maxie's spare time, she escaped to Charlie's, to Bea's, to Vince's or Mark's or whoever it was at the moment. All of her efforts culminated into just a few short chance encounters with Van and Isaac together a week.

"Well, that's great then—"

"Excuse me, Maxie? Are you Maxie?"

Both Maxie and Gnar turned to see one of Van's friends standing there. "Van told me to find you for cake."

"Oh, of course," Maxie said, turning back toward the cake. Gnar waited as she sliced the guy a piece of cake, but only after making sure the serving size was to his liking. When the guy walked away with his cake, Gnar said, "Still the dutiful hostess."

Maxie only rolled her eyes in reply. "Anyway—"

"Hey, are you the one serving cake?" Another guy was standing there, this one with a friend. "We'll take two pieces."

Before Maxie could turn away, Gnar took the knife from her hands and placed it on the table. Gently taking her by the arm, he turned to the guy. "Get your own fucking cake," he snapped.

"I would have just cut it," Maxie said as the guy, affronted, took the knife and proceeded to do just as Gnar had said.

Looking down at her, Gnar's eyes softened. "I know you would have," he said. "Hey, do you want to go somewhere?"

She laughed at the question, though from his expression, she knew he was completely serious. "Leave Van's party? Daniel..."

"That's nice," he said.

"What is?"

"You, saying my name. It's been a while." His eyes dimmed slightly and wistfulness shadowed his features. Then he reached out and took her hand. His was big and warm and his eyes lingered on their entwined fingers.

"Don't, Gnar," she choked out.

"Don't what?" he asked.

Suddenly the room grew quiet. For a moment, she thought it was because of her, as if _everyone_ wanted to know the answer to his question. Don't _what_?

Don't get too close.

Don't kiss me.

Don't love me.

Don't leave.

But Maxie said none of those things. Instead, she slipped her hand out of his and turned to Van, who was addressing the room. Her friend was smiling, holding tightly to Isaac's arm. "Thank you all for coming," she said. "I can't even begin to tell you how glad I am to have been able to share my birthday with you. It's truly been a special evening, which is why Isaac and I can't think of a better time than now to share our wonderful news."

From across the room, Bea caught Maxie's eye and raised an inquiring brow. Maxie shrugged. "What news?" Gnar whispered.

Maxie shrugged again, stepping forward to listen more closely.

Gazing at Isaac, Van said, "We're getting _married_!"

The room erupted. Big eyes and wide smiles seized every face, congratulations rang out from every corner. It seemed as if everyone in the room rushed to the center and engulfed Van and Isaac. Swallowed them whole.

Everyone but Maxie.

She swayed slightly, stumbled back into Gnar. His hands went to her arms and he steadied her. If he let her go, she knew, she would collapse. Maybe he knew as well, because he didn't let her go. In fact, his grip tightened until pain fanned out across her skin from beneath his fingertips. She inhaled sharply, suddenly aware that she had been holding her breath.

She needed to sit. No, walk. No, lie down. No, she needed to hit something, _break_ something. Except everything inside of her was breaking instead. She could barely make out the sound of well wishes over the deafening roar of her emotions colliding under her skin, crashing into one another, ricocheting off the walls of her heart; angry shards ripping holes into her soul. She was bleeding, internally, and no one knew.

No. Gnar knew. Bea, who was all the way across the room but staring Maxie right in the face, knew. She was slowly shaking her head. _Don't fall apart,_ she was saying. _Not here. Not with everyone watching_.

Then Maxie was saying it herself, repeating the words in her mind until they blended together into one _. Don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcry._

And then Van was in front of her, beaming, arms outstretched. "Max, can you believe it?" she gushed. "We're getting married!"

The violent blow of reality hit her with devastating force.

Van and Isaac. Getting _married_.

It was no longer just an idea, no longer just a possibility. It was no longer something that had almost happened, but something that was _happening_.

Maxie blinked. Her mouth twitched against the agony of her forced smile. "Wow, this is...this is... _wow_ ," she stammered, unable to utter a single lie as she hugged her friend. The smell of Van's shampoo was almost nauseating. It was the same smell Isaac had brought with him to Maxie's room on so many nights.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," said Van. "We wanted it to be a surprise." _It was a surprise alright._ Like being woken up by the shattering explosion of a gunshot. Van pulled back. "You know you're going to be my maid of honor, right? I mean, _obviously_."

"Obviously," Maxie agreed. Her face was beginning to hurt. The threat of tears burned her eyes. _Don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcry_.

"Hey, come here," Gnar cut in, reaching for Van. "I need a hug from the bride-to-be!" He pulled Van against his chest and raised his eyes to Maxie over her shoulder. She lowered hers, afraid he would be able to see straight through them, straight into the core of her mangled soul.

"Aren't you going to congratulate me, Maximilienne?" Isaac asked, stopping before her.

"Of course," she said, swallowing the knot of anguish that lodged itself in her throat. "Congratulations."

She held her breath as he embraced her, kept her eyes squeezed shut, tried to ignore the pulsating warmth that surged through her beneath the sensation of his touch. When he finally pulled away, she thought she would collapse into herself.

The urge to weep grew more painfully overwhelming with each passing second. Any moment she would break. She would _crumble_.

As soon as Isaac turned his back, Maxie pivoted, slipping swiftly through the tangle of people and out the front door. She wondered only briefly if anyone had seen her, and what they would think if they had. Of course, her bursting into tears in the middle of her best friend's seemingly good news would probably raise a few more eyebrows than a discreet departure.

She jabbed at the elevator button until the doors slid open. In the confines of the tiny space, she could feel her heart begin to slow. When the doors shut again, when she was completely alone, she fell to her knees.

The night seemed far too beautiful for such unhappiness to be possible. The stars seemed brighter than usual, more vast. The cool breeze was like a comforting caress against the still heat. But Maxie felt cold.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed since she'd retreated to the roof; the minutes seemed to have melted into one another. She felt as if she'd been alone for hours before the door open and someone stepped through. "Max?" a familiar voice called.

She inhaled sharply. Was she mistaken? She _must_ have been. Her grief-induced headache was simply taking advantage of her. But then he said her name again, and a moment later he was standing over her.

"Alex?" She got to her feet, dusting off the back of her dress as she did so.

Her ex—... Ex _what_? Boyfriend? Not technically. Ex-distraction, maybe. That's all Alex had ever been. A distraction from Van, and then from Isaac and her own relentless love. A distraction from the throb of her overflowing heart, and then the ache of it breaking.

"I thought I would find you up here," he said.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. He looked different since they'd broken up over a year ago. His hair was shorter, his beard had grown out. Even his eyes seemed older, the corners decorated with a few more lines of wisdom that hadn't been there before. Maxie only wondered if his personality had matured as much as his appearance.

"Van invited me," he said, and then laughed. "Van invited me to her _own_ surprise party."

"Van did," she said, perplexed.

He raised an eyebrow. "What are the chances, huh? I guess she doesn't hate me anymore."

"No," Maxie said, "I'm pretty sure she still hates you."

"Speaking of Van. Big news, huh?"

"Yeah. Huge."

"She must be ecstatic. She _finally_ tricked him into committing to her."

Rolling her eyes, Maxie crossed her arms over her chest. "What are you _doing_ here?" she asked again, then added, "As in, what do you _want_?"

"Same thing as always, Max. Just to see you." He shook his head. "You don't have to be nice to me. I know I don't deserve it. But I _do_ miss you."

"Thanks," she said, lowering her gaze. Silence fell between them then. Maybe he was waiting for her to say she missed him, too. But she wasn't going to say that. She _couldn't_.

"I saw you in there, you know," he said at last. "I saw your face. I'm sorry."

She straightened her spine, jutted out her chin. "For what?"

"C'mon, Max. You don't have to pretend with me."

She pressed her lips together a moment, took a deep breath. She didn't have to pretend with Alex. She didn't have to, but she would. She would pretend with everyone, and eventually, she would start pretending to herself again, too. "We should probably go back. How long have I been gone?"

He frowned. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about _what_?"

He chuckled quietly. "Fine. We don't have to talk about it. How are _you_? How's work? I hear you're waitressing or something now. What's the deal with that? A degree from New York School of Performing Arts couldn't land you anything better than a waitressing job?"

"I _like_ my job," she said through clenched teeth.

He nodded, his mouth forming a silent _O._ "Great, then. And your love life? How's that?"

"Alex—"

"We're friends, right? Friends talk about these things."

Slowly shaking her head, she quietly said, "We're not friends."

Alex took a step back, nodding. "Oh."

"Let's go back," she suggested. She started past him but he didn't move.

"I saw you down there. I saw your face, I was watching the whole time." Shaking his head, he said, "You never could hide how you really feel. I don't know how Van hasn't figured it out already."

Maxie didn't reply. She didn't even turn back around.

The room had cleared significantly when Maxie returned to the party. Only a few people still remained, and they all stood around the kitchen, listening to Van as she spoke from her seat at the table. "We were thinking June," she said. "Mid-June, when the weather's perfect. Really small, just friends and family. There will only be two bridesmaids and two groomsman, including the maid of honor and best man."

"Who's your best man going to be, Isaac?" someone asked.

He looked at Gnar and shrugged. "Daniel, I guess. Who else could it be?"

"Maxie is my maid-of-honor," said Van. "Funny, huh? To think our best friends will be walking down the aisle together the same day as us!"

Maxie felt another urge to cry tug at her throat, but she swallowed it and went into the kitchen where all eyes fell on her. "Speak of the devil!" Van cried. "Where have you been? You missed the rest of the party!"

"Yeah, I see. Sorry about that, I hadn't realized I'd been gone that long. I was...umm...I ran to the store. Long lines."

She glanced at the faces surrounding her. No one seemed moved by her lie. No one but Bea, whose brows were drawn together and lips pressed shut with pity.

Gnar watched her intently, his eyes darting back and forth across her features as if searching for the truth there.

"We were just talking about you and Gnar walking down the aisle together. How fun will that be?"

"Yeah, Max," he said. "And maybe we can consummate something that night, as well."

Everyone laughed. Isaac glared at him. "Don't be an asshole," he snapped.

" _Anyway_ ," Van went on, "there's so much to plan, I don't even know where to start. Max, I was thinking we can go interview wedding planners next week. You'll come with, right?"

Another tug, this one demanding to be obliged. Clearing her throat, she said, "Yeah, of course. In the meantime, I'm going to turn in for the night."

"So early?" Van whined.

Dropping a kiss on the crown of Van's head, she said, "Happy birthday. And congratulations again."

When she turned to leave, Isaac caught her by the hand. "What about me?" he asked. "Don't I get one last congratulations?"

He didn't bow his head like Van had, for Maxie to kiss the top. He turned his face up to her, stared right into her eyes, as if he, too, expected to be kissed. Of course, that _couldn't_ be what he expected. For a moment, though, a hundred different images of his face turned eagerly to hers, just like it was at that very moment, flashed through her thoughts. Taking a step back, she extended her hand for him to take.

Disappointment flashed in his eyes as they fell on her hand, hanging there in the air between them. Finally, he took it. "Congratulations, Isaac," she said, her fingers limp in his.

#

NOW

Isaac woke to the sound of his name. He'd been dreaming of colors; black and blood red and trembling hands reaching through darkness, reaching for him. Whoever they belonged to called out to him and for a moment, still stuck between consciousness and sleep, he thought he was mistaken. But then he opened his eyes, blinking away twisted remnants of his imagination, and he heard the voice again.

Maxie was calling him.

Van lay beside him, arm thrown over his chest, long, smooth leg wrapped around his thigh, but her slumber was impenetrable. He slid out from under her and stole out of the bedroom toward the sound of Maxie's voice.

"Max?" he called quietly, pushing her bedroom door open. But when he stepped into her room, it was empty. "Maxie?"

She called out to him again and he spun around to the emptiness behind him. Her voice sounded heavy and intoxicated. He rushed down the dark hall and through the living room. When he reached the kitchen, she was there standing motionless in the pitch black, shoulders slumped, head hanging. She clutched a long, wooden spoon in a tight fist. Isaac took a tentative step toward her. "Max?"

She didn't reply. She didn't acknowledge him at all. "Maximilienne," he said more firmly. At last, she said his name again. Some slurred, groggy version of it at least. He stopped just before her and inhaled deeply. She was _asleep_. "Ah, Maximilienne," he breathed, resisting the urge to take her into his arms. She wavered on her feet, groaned, twitched.

"Maxie," he whispered, gently reaching for her. As soon as his fingers met her skin, she sucked in a sharp breath and shuddered violently. She stumbled back, her eyes wide and darting back and forth across the kitchen. When they fell on Isaac, she paled.

"You're alive," she breathed.

He recoiled. "Of course I am." He raised his palms and reached for her again. "Maxie, snap out of it."

She stared at him in wonder—in horror—as his hands went to her face, her hair. Then he gave her a light jolt. She blinked and, slowly, the haze of confusion faded from her eyes, replaced by something else. Warmth. _Relief._

Then the spoon fell from her hands, hitting the floor with a loud _crack_ , and her gaze darkened.

"Isaac," she said, shaking her head as if to shake away any remnants of disorientation. She tensed and stepped out of his clutches. "I'm sorry. I must have been..." Her voice trailed off as she peered around as if seeing the kitchen for the first time. "I was dreaming."

"You were sleepwalking," he said.

"Yeah. I guess I was. Last time, I woke up in the bathroom—"

" _Last_ time? This has happened before?"

"Two or three times."

She kept her gaze averted as she spoke, her body turned slightly away from him. He tried to remember the last time she looked right at him, held his gaze, cracked a joke, smiled, _anything_. He couldn't.

She barely spoke to him anymore. They no longer watched television until the early hours of the morning when Van was working, nor did they share silent exchanges of exasperation when she sat over dinner prattling on about herself and her mundane complaints about her days. _Dinner_? Isaac couldn't recall the last time he'd shared a meal with Maxie. When she was home to cook, she took her own plate into her bedroom, only ever emerging to clean the kitchen before disappearing again.

He missed the sound of her voice, the sound of her laughter. He'd never even realized how much he'd taken to those things until they were no longer a part of his day.

"You're wearing yourself out. You've been working too much," he said, then added, "I never even see you anymore."

She shrugged. "Maybe that's something you should get used to."

"Why?"

"You and Van are getting _married_ ," she said. "And Kathy's already dropping hints that she's done all she's going to do for me. I can't live in this apartment forever."

Shaking his head, he said, "Van will never let you go."

"Van won't have a choice."

"We don't _want_ you to go," he insisted.

"You're getting married," she repeated, her voice rising an octave. "What _do_ you want, Isaac? Why are you even worried about me?"

"Tell me, Maximilienne," he said. "When have I _not_ been worried about you?"

She opened her mouth to reply and then shut it again. Her jaw tightened, her brows furrowed. Moving past him, she said, "Well, you should stop now. Worry about your _wife_."

"What's _wrong_ with you?" he demanded, catching her by the arm. "What did I _do_ , Maxie?"

She shrugged out of his grasp. "You didn't do anything."

"If this is about me and Van—"

" _What_?"

"—You said that you and I were _nothing_ ," he said in a hushed whisper.

"This isn't about you and Van. And you and I _were_ nothing," she said. Her own words hurt as they came out, like regurgitating knives. She'd said those very words countless times before, only then she hadn't believed them herself. How excruciating the truth was turning out to be.

"Then why are you so mad at me?" he persisted. "Maxie, I can't—" He stopped short, swallowed his words, but she was staring up at him, her big eyes expectant. Lowering his voice, he said, "I can't even sleep knowing you're upset like this. When you're in the same room as me, trying so hard not to look at me, I can't concentrate on anything but getting your attention. All I ever want to do is come home and tell you about my day. I want to hear about yours. We haven't had a single conversation about your new job. I don't know if you love it or hate it, if you're making new friends. I just... I _miss_ you. That's all."

She didn't reply, just remained there, her lips pressed together, her eyes dark and her hands crossed over her chest. "What?" he said. "You don't believe me?"

"I do," she said at last, taking a step back into the darkness. "That's the problem."

Before he could reply, she turned and disappeared down the shadowy hallway.

THEN

Maxie set her favorite novel down on her nightstand as Van pushed her bedroom door open and stepped inside. "Am I disturbing you?" she asked.

"No," Maxie replied. She hadn't actually been reading, but flipping through the pages instead, searching for the tiny hearts Isaac had drawn in the corners. It'd been over a year since they met. Over a year since he first slept with her best friend, a mistake that sealed their fate. And just about that long since they fell in love, despite it all.

She knew she needed to let him go, for Van's sake, for the sake of their friendship, for the sake of her own sanity. But somehow he'd intertwined himself into her framework, made himself an intrinsic piece of who she was, a piece she wasn't sure she could live without.

Not that it seemed as if he ever intended on letting her find out for sure.

_The only time you aren't thinking about me is when you're reading, and I want to fix that_ , he'd said. And so he did. No matter how swept up in the story she got, once she came upon one of his hearts, her thoughts immediately went to him.

"Come in," she told Van, closing the book and pushing it beneath her pillow. "What's going on?"

Sighing, Van slid under the blankets, snuggling close to her friend. "Am I attractive?" she asked.

Maxie rolled her eyes. "We both know the answer to that, Van."

"Do you think Isaac still finds me attractive?"

Maxie's breath got caught in her throat and she coughed. "Why wouldn't he?" she managed.

"I don't know. I'm starting to think that maybe he doesn't. I mean, is that even _possible_? I know men who have been dating their very average-looking girlfriends for _years_ and still find them attractive. And I'm well above average, so there's no way that after only one year, _my_ boyfriend would stop being attracted to _me_. Right?"

Maxie rolled her eyes again. "Alright. What exactly is it you're wanting to know, Van?"

Another dramatic sigh. "Well. He's asleep."

"...Yeah?"

"Every night, for a week and a half—maybe even longer—he's gone in that room and gone to sleep. No sex. No _nothing_."

Maxie blinked, exhaled slowly.

Every night she'd retired to bed lied sleepless and tormented, wondering what was happening in the room beside hers. Was Isaac kissing Van, touching her, whispering his love to her, sharing with her what he'd shared with Maxie just ten nights before?

She couldn't help but imagine it—the man she loved and her best friend, entwined in one another, making love just feet from where she lay—and it'd made her turn over in her bed and press her pillow against her face in an effort to smother her own imagination. She'd contemplated just asking him, but could never bring herself to do it, fearing the truth would cripple her.

Now she knew.

Images of him appeared in her thoughts. Naked. Panting. Eyes open, and then squeezed shut. His bottom lip between his teeth. _Her_ bottom lip between his teeth. His hands everywhere, his mouth _everywhere._ She could hear his voice, whispering her full name, his lips soft and his breath warm against her ear. Her body came alive beneath the fabric of her pajamas at the mere thought of it.

And her face flushed with guilt.

She shook her head once, shaking away Isaac's face, his voice, his touch. She shifted, heat rising from below her belly button.

"Maxie?" Van pressed, nudging her.

"Huh?"

"Did you hear me?"

She heard her. And she wanted to reply, but was afraid Van would hear the thickness in her voice instead of the lies in her words. "I hear you," she said slowly, evenly. "Have you spoken to him about it?"

"No. Do you think I should?"

"No." She said it quickly. Maybe _too_ quickly. "I mean, maybe he's just tired. I know that sounds lame, but he _does_ work a lot."

"I know, but doesn't he get horny?" Van demanded, opening her palms, her hazel eyes wide with genuine bafflement. "I mean, _I_ work a lot. Sometimes 'til the sun comes up, but _I_ still want to have sex."

"I'm sure he'll come around," Maxie choked out. Dread and shame and relief battled for dominance in the pit of her stomach.

"You think so? I hope. I didn't think this started happening until _after_ marriage." _Marriage?_ Maxie's throat went dry. Were they talking about _marriage_? "Maybe I should just be proactive about it. Maybe I'll light some candles, put on some sexy lingerie, soft music, really set the mood, you know? And you could whip up some chocolate strawberries or something."

"Van."

"Huh?"

"I'm sorry. I _want_ to talk about this, really," Maxie said. "But I'm so tired."

Van sighed and rolled over to peer up at the ceiling. "Great. I guess I'm the only one who gets enough sleep around here."

NOW

"Are you still here? Jesus, Maxie, go _home_ already. You've been here for twelve hours."

Jason Sharp, owner of Uptown Steakhouse, stood over Maxie where she sat in the back of the restaurant, massaging the aching balls of her feet. After a lifetime of dancing on the tips of her toes, she'd thought a day standing would be effortless, but at the end of every shift, her limbs ached and her back felt stiff and her feet screamed for relief.

"I still have one more table," she said.

"They paid twenty minutes ago." He crossed his arms over his wide chest. Sharp was a heavyset man of six feet four, with a thick beard and hard eyes. Maxie had been intimidated by him when he'd first hired her six months prior, but it hadn't been long before she began to see through the façade of his menacing exterior. "Go home," he said.

"What's the big deal? Anne doesn't want any more tables," she said of her coworker, "and I do."

"Anne hasn't worked four double shifts in a row this week," he said, then he took a seat at the table across from her. "What is it, Max? Do you need money? Look, I don't normally do this, but I have a bit of a soft spot for you. How much do you need? I'll give you an advance, alright? You can just pay me back a little at a time—"

"I don't need money, Sharp," she said. "But thanks."

"What it is, then? Don't tell me you're just this ambitious. No one's _this_ ambitious."

For the shortest of seconds, she contemplated telling him everything. Every single thing, starting from before Isaac got shot, from the very night she first met him, when he hit her with his car on Christmas. Or the afternoon he showed up at the cafe to tell her that although he'd made the drunken mistake of sleeping with Van, it was _her_ he wanted. Of course, she'd turned him down, for Van's sake. And still, he sought her out.

She contemplated telling Sharp about her and Isaac's secret dinners on the roof with red wine while Van had been at work; about how they'd talked for hours upon hours about things no one else knew; about how falling in love with him had been like falling into the ocean in the middle of the hurricane.

She contemplated telling Sharp about the first time her and Isaac made love. About how the first time he was inside of her, she thought that maybe God sculpted him for the sole purpose of being there. About how much harder it was to see him with Van after, to see him kiss her and hear him tell her he loved her, even though Maxie knew he was only pretending.

Except he _hadn't_ been pretending. He and Van had been engaged all along. And now they were engaged again.

Maybe then Maxie could tell Sharp about Vince and Mark and Damien. About how the hurt of Isaac's betrayal still felt like a dull knife wrenched in her heart, or how the guilt of her own betrayal never subsided. It was like an open wound, salted daily with her lingering feelings for her best friend's fiancé, a constant reminder of her deceit.

And she was terrified of falling in love again, yet yearned for those short, empty moments that sometimes felt like the real thing. Vince. Mark. Damien. Beneath the cover of darkness and rapture, any of them meant whatever she wanted them to. Everything. Nothing. And then she left them, before they could leave her.

"It's just my best friend. Van," she said at last.

"Are you guys having a fight?"

"She just got engaged. _Just_ got engaged. I'm talking five days ago. And I'm sick of hearing about this stupid wedding _already_. She won't shut up about flowers and dresses and venues and theme colors. Seriously, Sharp, I wish they would just elope."

Sharp laughed. "Is that all? You're working yourself ragged to get out helping your friend plan her wedding?"

"Trust me when I tell you that I could work _ten_ double shifts in a row and it wouldn't even compare to the job that is planning Van's wedding."

"It can't be _that_ bad."

"No?" Reaching for her phone, she read her text messages from Van aloud. "Sunday—the very day after they made the announcement," she said. "'Hey, Max. What's the difference between a bridal shower and a bachelorette party? FYI: I want both.'" Sharp laughed again, but Maxie wasn't finished. "Monday at three o'clock: 'Cake tasting next week.' Monday at _four_ o' clock: 'Should I have a cake and cupcakes, or just a cake?' Tuesday, 10:00 AM: 'My mom offered to let me wear her wedding dress. As if.' Tuesday at 11:00 AM: 'Speaking of dresses, what color do you want to wear?' Tuesday at 6:30 PM: 'I asked Elanna to be a bridesmaid. What do you think?' Wednesday, 1:15PM: 'Pearl or diamond earrings?' Wednesday at 3:45 PM: 'Stud or _chandelier_ earrings?'" Dropping her phone, Maxie looked up at Sharp. "And that's just a _few_ of them. She made an appointment to go dress shopping in two weeks. She wants me to _interview_ the florist on Thursday."

He nodded. "Alright, then. I'll make sure I adjust your schedule accordingly."

"Sharp—"

"Don't argue with me, Maxie. You need a life, kid. She's your best friend, right? Go help her plan her wedding. But hey, go home and get some sleep first."

But Maxie didn't go home. Instead, she made her way to the small tavern just around the corner. That was where Maxie had met Vince two months prior, after another long day at Uptown. She and two of her coworkers had walked in, and Vince spotted her instantly, as if she'd called out to him. The very next evening, he'd shown up at Uptown to ask Maxie out on a date.

Maxie suggested they skip the date instead.

Their first night together, Maxie had lain naked in his bed until the early hours of the morning, a joint between her lips, and then several cigarettes. Vince had lain beside her and asked her meaningless questions to which she'd given thoughtless answers. Her favorite color. Favorite movie. Favorite musician, favorite food.

Nothing about her family. Nothing about her love life. Nothing about her past or her future. Nothing that had required her to lie or evade.

She'd had no questions of her own but he hadn't seemed to mind, and when she'd left, he hadn't tried to kiss her goodbye. It was then she'd known that she would see him again.

The small pub where Vince bartended was nearly empty when Maxie arrived. Music played from the old jukebox in the back, a low hum above the light banter of the few patrons and clinking glasses from behind the bar. Vince smiled when he saw her step inside, and glass of red wine waited for her by the time she reached the counter. "Thank you," she said.

"Long day?" he asked.

"Self-inflicted," she replied.

He grinned. "Well, if you want to wait until I'm off, I'll gladly help you relax."

Pulling herself up onto the counter, she raised her glass to her lips and drank down half of it in one long gulp. Setting it back down for him to refill, she said, "Go home with you? What kind of girl do you take me for?"

Maxie finished the last of her third glass of wine as the song on the jukebox switched to an old one her mother used to play for her. She let her eyes flutter shut as the singer's smooth, soulful voice drifted out of the speakers and wrapped itself around her. With it came the image of her mother, sitting in the driver's seat of the car as they'd made their way to Maxie's school, or the grocery store, or the mall; Noelle singing along as the song blared from the old speakers. Noelle had always been a good singer. Not good enough to ever do it professionally, but good enough to listen to.

As Maxie listened to the song, it wasn't the singer's voice she heard anymore, but Noelle's instead. Light, a bit raspy. For a while, as Maxie swayed back and forth, she felt like she was floating. Floating above the bar, above the whole building, in a place where her mother was.

Suddenly a sharp jolt jerked her violently back into the bar, into reality. She opened her eyes to find Gnar standing before her, his hands clutching her shoulders. "Hey, kid," he said, his lips smiling but his eyes concerned. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," she said, peering around the bar. She still felt a bit dazed, a bit drunk, her mind was still floating. "Where did you come from?"

"Outside," he said. "You look a little out of it."

"I am a little out of it," she admitted. "What are you doing here?"

For the shortest of seconds, she thought he would reply, _I'm here for you_ , but instead he said, "I'm out with some of the boys." He nodded toward a booth in the back where a few guys Maxie recognized from the gym sat. "I almost walked right past you. I'm not used to seeing you in bars."

"I'm just about done here," Vince said from behind her. She lowered her gaze as Gnar's eyes widened. "One more glass?"

"Yes," she said, as Gnar said, "No."

Looking over her shoulder, Gnar repeated, "No. She's had enough."

Vince chuckled. "You must be her dad."

"And _you_ must think you're safe behind that bar," Gnar replied.

"Hey," Maxie snapped.

"Let me take you home," he said.

She shook her head. "I'm not going home, Daniel."

He glanced back over her shoulder and his expression hardened. "C'mon," he said, scooping her up off the bar and lowering her to the floor. "You love this song, don't you? Dance with me."

He led her to the middle of the empty floor just as the song ended, but pulled her against him and began to dance, anyway. "Your boyfriend won't have a problem with this, will he?"

"He's not my boyfriend," she said, letting her head fall against his chest. It was hard and somehow still more comfortable than any pillow under her cheek. As always, he was warm. She could feel the heat from his skin even through his clothes. Her eyes drifted shut, she clutched the back of his shirt in her fists, and let him rock her slowly to a song only they could hear.

"Well, I wouldn't care if he was," Gnar replied. "Tell me, Max. What does the bartender have that I don't?"

She inhaled the fabric of his shirt. It smelled like fresh linen, and cologne, and the pleasant musk of Daniel Gnar. "It's not so much about what he does have. It's about what he doesn't."

Pulling back to meet her gaze, he said, "Do I scare you? Are you afraid you may actually fall for me?"

"Yes," she admitted.

He nodded. "You scare me, too. Except," he said, gently pressing her head to his chest again as he lowered his mouth to her ear, "I've already fallen for you, so I guess it's too late for me."

"Maybe. But it isn't too late for me."

"May I cut in?" came Vince's voice from beside them.

"No, you may not," Gnar said, gently shifting Maxie to stand behind him.

Rolling his eyes, Vince said, "I'm out of here, Max."

"I'm coming," she said, squeezing Gnar's arm. He looked down at her, his jaw squared, his brows furrowed. "I have to go," she said. He didn't let her go. "Daniel, please."

"Yeah, _Daniel_. Please," echoed Vince.

At last, Gnar let go of her, but he turned menacingly to Vince, his hands balled into tight fists. "Gnar, wait—"

"What's going on here?" came the voice of a man Maxie had only seen once or twice before with Daniel. He'd never spoken more than a few words to her, but she didn't like him. Internal sirens screamed inside of her as he approached wearing a grin similar to the one Gnar sometimes wore, the one Maxie loved. Only his was cunning. Calculated. His eyes sparked with malice.

"Eric. We've got a comedian in the building," Gnar said, nodding at Vince.

Maxie saw Vince's grin waver. She could calm Gnar with a hand on his chest and a soft enough tone. But Eric? She wasn't so sure he could be as easily subdued. "I love comedians," he said.

Maxie looked up at Gnar beseechingly, but Gnar said nothing, just watched Eric with his own calculated expression. "Tell me a joke," Eric said, going to Vince.

"Fuck off," Vince retorted.

Eric frowned. "That wasn't very funny at all." His expression turned grim, his jaw went taut, his eyes blazed menacingly. "I'll give you one more chance."

"Stop!" Maxie snapped, stepping in front of Vince to give Eric a shove. He was much smaller than Gnar, only a few inches taller than Maxie herself, and still, her jab barely moved him. He lowered his glare to her and his eyes softened. He grinned again. "You look familiar," he said. "Did you know Drew?"

Maxie inhaled sharply. "Alright," Gnar said, at last. "Eric, let's go."

Smirking at Maxie, he said, "I thought she was into tough guys."

Her eyes bulged and went to Gnar. "Who the hell is this?" she demanded.

"My cousin," said Gnar.

Turning back to Eric, Maxie said, "Well, then, I feel bad for your aunt."

"You should," Eric retorted, "because she's dead."

"She's not dead," Gnar said with a tired sigh. "Just go, Max."

Shooting one last glare at him, she grabbed Vince and left.

Maxie lay motionless, staring at the spinning ceiling as Vince assaulted her neck and chest with kisses. His hands tugged at her jeans as he struggled to get them down past her hips without removing his mouth from her collarbone.

"Hey," he said. "Maybe a little help here?"

With a small sigh, she lifted her behind from the mattress so that he could slide her pants down her legs. Instead he sat up. "Don't do me any favors."

"Sorry," she said pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. "I guess I'm just not in the mood."

Moving from beneath him, she stood and began gathering her belongings. "You don't have to go," he said. "Spending the night without sex won't make your cold heart any warmer."

She laughed. "Am I cold-hearted?"

"That or heartless."

She shook her head. She certainly wasn't heartless. If that were so, she wouldn't still be thinking of Gnar. His face wouldn't be plastered on every wall of her mind. The sound of his voice wouldn't be ringing in her ears. "Love hurts, Vince."

"I'm not asking for love, Maxie."

Had she been asking for love when Isaac came along? Was she asking for it now, as Daniel Gnar plagued her thoughts?

"That's when it finds you," she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Call me tomorrow?"

Maybe he replied. She wasn't paying attention as she made her way out.

#

NOW

For the first time in nearly a month, Maxie sat down for breakfast with both Van and Isaac together. Something that had once been ordinary, expected even, now felt strange. _Awkward_.

It wasn't until that moment did she realize just how successful her attempts to distance herself from the couple actually were. She watched them from across the table, discussing matters that didn't concern her, people she didn't know, movies she hadn't seen, laughing at jokes she didn't understand.

She said next to nothing while they chatted away, both so enthralled in such easy, insignificant banter that Maxie wasn't sure if they even remembered she was sitting there with them. Isaac picked a piece of bacon off Van's plate and popped it in his mouth as she bit into his toast. So casually. Routinely. As if Isaac _always_ finished her bacon, and she _always_ ate his toast.

Maybe she did. Maybe they _did_ have routines now. He was actually listening when Van spoke. He knew who she was talking about. He even seemed somewhat interested. And he didn't, not even once, meet Maxie's eyes. There were no silent exchanges between them across the table. No discreet caresses when they passed the plate of biscuits or carton of juice to one another. No short moments when Maxie knew he couldn't be paying Van's prattle any attention because his gaze was locked so intently on hers.

The shadow of an ache tugged at her throat, but she swallowed it with the last of her eggs. She wanted this.

Setting down her fork, she gathered her plate and rose but Van quickly turned to her. "Wait," she said. "Sit. We're not done talking."

Maxie frowned. "We haven't _started_ talking."

"So let's talk, then. Let's talk about this new guy you've been sneaking around with."

Maxie frowned. "What guy?"

"Don't play stupid. Isaac told me all about him."

Maxie instantly turned to Isaac, who lowered his eyes guiltily. "Gnar called after you left the bar last night," he admitted.

"And you _told_ on me?" Maxie demanded.

"No, I just..."

"Who is he?" Van interrupted, "And why do all your relationships have to be a big secret? Are you hiding them from us, or us from them?"

_Both_. "Neither. It isn't a relationship."

"What is it then? I mean, you're going home with this guy, staying out with him all hours of the—" She stopped short as realization struck her. Her chest rose and her hazel eyes grew round. "Oh, my _God_. You're _sleeping_ with him!"

Maxie sighed, shaking her head, but she could feel the heat rise up her neck, up her cheeks, her ears. "We're just...I'm...I mean..." Finally, she shut her mouth.

"You weren't going to tell me?" Van shrieked. "Is he special? Do you love him?"

" _No_! Do you love everyone _you've_ ever slept with?"

"Please, Max, we both know what my moral standards are compared to yours. What's gotten _into_ you? Have you been making new friends at work?"

Maxie couldn't help but laugh. "You think I've fallen into the wrong crowd? Jesus, Van, I'm not sixteen."

"You've been smoking a lot. Drinking more. Sleeping around."

"I would hardly call casual sex with one person _sleeping around_." She didn't bother mentioning the two people before Vince.

"And what about true love?"

With a smirk, Maxie leaned back in her seat and let out a contemplative sigh. "Let's see. True love. What _is_ true love?" She tapped her finger on her chin with mock thoughtfulness. "Some might say the love between mother and daughter is true. Or." She paused, met Van's eyes, "Between father and daughter." Van winced. The subject of her father, Arnold Trimmel, remained a taboo one since he'd tried to kiss Maxie when she and Van were still in high school. He left the family after that, but resentment lingered in his wake, even years later.

"Not every man is your father, Max," Van said and, lowering her voice, added, "Or mine."

"No," replied Maxie, getting to her feet, "but just in case, I don't think I'll risk it."

As she made her way out of the kitchen, Van called, "So that's it? You think you'll just never fall in love?"

"One can only hope," Maxie called back, and then her bedroom door shut behind her.

"Do you have _any_ idea what 'this is between me and you' means?" Isaac snapped as soon as Maxie was gone.

Van dismissed him with the wave of her hand. "She's my best friend. I deserve to know what's going on in her life. I just don't understand why she has to be so secretive about everything."

Isaac didn't reply. He understood wanting to keep his business _his_ more than anyone. Except for when it came to Maxie. She'd been the one he told everything to. He wondered if he'd been that person for _her_ , as well. And if he had been, who was her person now?

If only he could remember. Then maybe he would be able to reconnect with her. Maybe she would stop shutting him out. Maybe then he would understand why he even cared so much.

"This isn't about her mother committing suicide," Van huffed. "This isn't about her father leaving or...or _my_ father."

"Who's it about then?" Isaac asked, half expecting her to say _him_.

Of course, she didn't. Why would it be about _him_?

"That guy she was seeing last year. Remember? Oh, I guess you don't. Anyway, she was seeing this guy last year and I think they had a pretty bad breakup. She was depressed for _months_."

"What happened?"

Van shrugged. "Who knows? He was another one of her big secrets. She lost her virginity to him and she didn't even _tell_ me about it. When they broke up, she was even more tight-lipped. She eventually got over it—or, at least, I _thought_ she did. But obviously she's still bitter about the whole thing. I guess I would be, too. She always said she was saving herself for someone special. He must have meant a lot to her."

"And no one knows who he is?"

"Well, you didn't tell anyone about _me,_ " she said with a smile. "You wanted me all to yourself. Maybe she wanted him all to _her_ self."

"Maybe."

She shrugged. "I mean, I guess I get it. You hold out for so long and when you finally give in, you get your heartbroken. She probably doesn't see the point in holding out anymore."

Isaac raised an eyebrow. "What do _you_ know about holding out, Van?"

Her mouth dropped open and she punched him in the arm as he threw his head back and laughed loudly at his own joke.

" _Anyway,_ " she went on, "whoever he was, he's gone now and Maxie can _not_ keep on this path she's been on."

Isaac rolled his eyes. "It's not that big a deal, Van. It's just sex."

"Maxie doesn't have _just sex_. She's not that kind of girl. She's obviously just scorned. I mean, why else would she sleep with someone like that bar guy who probably doesn't even care about her?"

"Someone like the bar guy? You don't even know him. You literally don't even know his name. He might be as in love with her as every other guy tends to be."

"He obviously doesn't know her," Van insisted. "How can he? She isn't herself right now. I bet if she just gave Gnar a legitimate chance—"

"Just mind your business, Van," Isaac snapped. The words seemed to leap right out of his mouth. Slightly calmer, he added, "For once. She obviously doesn't want your help."

"But she needs it," Van said. "She's my best friend. No one knows her better than I know her, and she needs my help."

THEN

On the morning Van announced she had a photo shoot in Washington DC the following day and would be gone for an entire thirty-six hours, Isaac nearly choked on the pancake he was chewing. "You could come with me," Van said, pressing herself against him. "We could get a nice hotel room for the night and make an occasion of it."

Maxie was standing at the kitchen sink, her back to both of them, but he knew she heard. For over a week, his attempts at getting her alone had been frustratingly unsuccessful. All he wanted was a solitary moment to look directly at her without the threat of Van seeing the truth on his face.

Well. Maybe it wasn't _all_ he wanted.

But she avoided his eyes with steadfast determination. A mere gaze in his direction turned her face to glass. Everything was there. _Everything_.

He needed to speak to her. Touch her. Kiss her. He needed to know why after a night he thought had been perfect, he'd woken up to find her gone from his bed. She felt guilty, he knew. But was she remorseful? If so, he would kiss away any of her regrets.

Clearing his throat, he said, "Sorry. I'd love to but I have to work."

With a disinterested sigh, she turned to Maxie. "What about you? Do you want to come with me? Maybe we could even stay an extra day or two and explore the city."

At last, Maxie turned to face them. She met Isaac's eyes and they widened. _Don't you dare_ , they were saying. "Sorry, Van. I have class."

"You people are no fun," Van said. "I'm going to make sure I remember this when I'm a supermodel and you want to come with me to shoots in Hawaii and Jamaica."

But neither Isaac, nor Maxie were listening to her. Even as Maxie turned back to the dishes, Isaac could see the deep flush of her cheeks under his gaze, and his own blood ran hot under his skin.

Isaac arrived that evening with bags of groceries and a grin. When Maxie opened the door for him, she, too, couldn't help but smile. They went to the kitchen where he set down the bags. "What did you get?" she asked.

"I thought we could have Italian," he said. "For old time's sake."

Thoughts of the many late night dinners they'd once shared made her smile. Every night for months he'd arrived with groceries—most often for Italian dishes—and they'd eaten and drank wine, and talked until Van had been due to return home from her work at the bar.

Maxie lowered her eyes, but in seconds her face was in Isaac's hands and he was turning it up to his. "Why are you blushing?" he asked. "Don't be shy, we're alone now."

"I'm not shy," she said, though she could feel her face growing impossibly hot in his wide palms. He laughed and kissed her cheeks.

"I've been waiting for this night for almost two whole weeks, Maxie. I've gotten you alone again a thousand times in my imagination since that night." Pulling her against him, he said, "Time to make my dreams come true."

They never did eat dinner.

Later that night, they lay naked in Maxie's bed, her small body tucked in the curve of his massive one. He held tightly to her; crossing his long arm over her shoulder and across her chest. This time she wouldn't get away. "Does it feel better now?" he asked.

Their first time had been _her_ first time. Her first time _ever_. It'd been unbearably painful and painfully exquisite all at once. Her body had felt brand new and unfamiliar in his hands, and yet he'd seemed all too intimate with every inch of her.

" _Much_ better," Maxie admitted. They'd made sure to keep going until it did, and even still after. "Van told me that her first time was horrible. Actually, her first twenty times were horrible."

"That's because she was, what, sixteen? Having sex with a kid who probably didn't know left from right, let alone how to please a woman. And she probably barely knew him." Right. Van met Kevin Clarke during a college visit. They'd only spoken on the phone for a month before Van had finally been able to sneak away to his dorm and see him again. She'd lost her virginity that night. "You can't compare that to us," he said. "In case you haven't noticed, I know what I'm doing."

She smiled lightly, lowering her eyes. "I've noticed."

"And we're both adults." His arm tightened around her, pulling her closer to his chest. "And we love each other."

There it was again. The L-word. Only she was wide-awake now and there was no mistaking whether he'd said it. She'd replayed their first night together, the first time he'd spoken the word, over and over in her mind, wondering if she'd imagined it, hoping she hadn't. But now she knew.

"Maxie," he said.

"Yes?"

"We're in love, right?"

She turned, just enough to look up at him. "So in love," she replied. Dropping a kiss on her forehead, he said nothing else, just let his head rest in the soft fluff of her curls, the scent of her shampoo lulling him to sleep.

Sometime during the night, Maxie woke with a start. Still tangled in his limbs, her heart pace quickened and she peered around the room in panic. Then she remembered that they were alone. Van was gone. They wouldn't be disturbed, they were safe. Taking a deep breath, she carefully unwove herself from his embrace and rose. Suddenly his hand shot out and grabbed her by the arm, and she was instantly back down against him, wrapped up in him all over again. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked.

She laughed. "The bathroom."

"I don't trust you. You might run off again."

"Run off to where? You're in my bed. Nothing is safe anymore."

"You're wrong," he said. "Right now, this bed is the safest place you could be."

NOW

Maxie let herself into Charlie's apartment and kicked off her shoes at the door. The large open space of his living and dining room seemed even bigger since she'd stopped being the old man's caretaker. It was brighter, airier, more welcoming. Thanks to his practically-live-in girlfriend, Milla, no doubt.

There were fresh flowers on the table, lighter curtains on the windows, colorful pillows on the plain couches. The scent of baked goods always lingered in the air, sometimes soft music played for no one in particular. Milla had turned Charlie's luxury condo into a home.

A home that Maxie felt more comfortable in than her own.

"Charlie!" she called.

"Out here," he replied from the balcony. She joined him outside where he sat directly in the sun.

"Charlie, you're baking out here," she said, raising her hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the light.

"I'm tanning," he said. "I'm too fucking pale. Even Milla says so."

Grinning, Maxie plopped down in the chair beside him. "I'm sure she likes you just the way you are."

"I'm sure she does," he agreed. "And I'm sure she'd like me even better if I wasn't so fucking pale."

"Right. Because lobster-red is so much better."

His eyes bulged. "Am I burning?" he demanded. "Am I getting too red?"

"C'mon, switch seats." She helped him into her chair, which was positioned beneath the cover of shade.

"So," he said, "long time no see. You with your big, fancy new job and all. I thought you forgot about the little people."

Maxie rolled her eyes. "I'm a waitress, Charlie. I'd hardly call that big _or_ fancy. I like it, but I haven't forgotten about you. Look, I even brought you some leftovers from dinner last night." She handed him the container full of chicken stew she had tucked away in her bag.

"Leftovers. Lucky me," he said sarcastically, but he pulled the top off and began to pick through the chunks of vegetables anyway. For a moment or so, Maxie watched him, wearing a small, content grin. "What?" he finally asked. "What's that stupid look for?"

She laughed. "What stupid look? I was _smiling_."

"Right," he said. "I guess I'm not used to seeing you do much of that. You're usually all moody and brooding. Complaining about your shitty friend or her shitty mother or shitty boyfriend."

"Fiancé, actually," Maxie corrected.

He frowned. "Again?"

"Officially this time. The wedding is set for next spring."

"Huh. Well. You don't look like you're about to cry, so I guess that's good."

She smiled again, though barely. Averting her gaze, she said, "Trust me, I've done plenty of crying. Crazy thing, though. Crying doesn't actually change anything, so..."

"Listen to you," he said. "Manning up. I'm proud, kid."

She nodded. "I thought you would be."

"What about your boyfriend? Not Isaac, the other one. The one I like."

"Gnar isn't my boyfriend, Charlie. And he never will be, so I wish everyone would just drop it."

He scoffed. "Well, then. Excuse the fuck outta me."

"Sorry." She grabbed the marker from the side table between them and propped her leg up for better access to her foot. "It's just that I'm happy right now, Charlie. Being in love is like..." She paused, sketching out tiny hearts on her bare foot. "It's like someone holding my head under water. For years, I've just been drowning and now I can finally breathe again." She looked up at him. "You know?"

He nodded. "I do. I was drowning for a long time, too. For years after my wife died. But you know when _I_ started breathing again? When I met Milla. Have you ever considered that it isn't love that hurts, but _who_ you love?"

"It should be effortless," she said, "loving someone. Not painful, not taxing." _Issac. Van_. "It shouldn't leave you scarred." _Her mother. Her father._ "It should heal you, not hurt you."

With that, Charlie burst out laughing. "Effortless, huh? Who told you that heap of shit? Love takes hard work."

She shrugged. "Well, right now I have more important things to work on. Like my cookbook. And saving money." Averting her gaze, she casually added, "I'll need plenty of money when I move away."

Charlie recoiled. "Move _away_? Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"France, maybe. I applied to a French culinary school once. When I was still in high school. Van and I both applied to schools there. We read our acceptance letters together."

"You didn't get in, I'm assuming."

" _I_ got in to my school," she said. "Van didn't get into hers. And all she said was, 'Welp, at least we tried. New York City it is'. Not even for a _second_ did she consider I would actually go without her."

"You didn't."

"That was then," she said. "Things are different now. _I'm_ different now. As soon as I save enough money, I'm going to go. And I'm not going to look back."

He raised an eyebrow. "You don't sound so sure of yourself."

"I _am_ sure."

"You sound like you're running."

"I'm not running."

"You don't even want a whole apartment to yourself and you're going to move to another country alone?" He scoffed. "I don't know what you're trying to prove, kid."

"Charlie, there's nothing here for me." _No one_. "My parents are gone. Van is getting married. Married to _Isaac_. Obviously I can't live with them for the rest of my life. And you have Milla now. It's time I go find something of my own."

"And you need to go all the way to France to do that? How 'bout you just stop being so goddamned stubborn, catch the next train to Brooklyn and go see boy-o. _He_ can be your own."

She shook her head. "No."

"Why not? Because of Isaac? Because they're friends? Newsflash. _Isaac doesn't remember._ "

"No," Maxie repeated. She sighed, tossed the market back on the table, and slipped her vandalized foot back into her sandal. "No, but _I_ remember."

Maxie took her time making her way back to the apartment. After weeks of avoiding as much talk of wedding planning as possible, Van finally announced that it was "time to get serious."

"You're late!" Van snapped before Maxie even got all the way into the apartment. "We've all been waiting for you."

"Who is 'we all?'" Maxie asked, but her question was promptly answered when she realized Gnar was sitting across from Isaac at the table.

"The wedding party," said Van. "Now that we're all here—"

"What about Elanna?" Maxie demanded. "And Tony?"

"Forget them," Van said dismissively. "I thought it would be a good idea for all of _us_ to just sit down and talk about what needs to be done, when it needs to be done by, and who's going to do it."

"The only thing _I_ need to do is show up," Isaac said as Van sat down at the table across from him. "That was our agreement, Van."

She rolled her eyes. "What about cake tastings? Choosing a florist?

A photographer?"

"Whatever you want," he said with the wave of a hand.

"And what about a color scheme? The menu?"

He shrugged. He didn't care, of course he didn't. Who would be on his side of the church other than his one last living relative, Aunt Jenny? And surely Jenny didn't care about any of those things. Jenny would probably be just as happy attending the wedding at a courthouse. "I guess that leaves everything up to us, Max," said Van.

Maxie paled. She sank down into her seat, tried not to sigh too loudly. "And me," Gnar piped up, his eyes on Maxie. "I can help, too."

"Thanks," Van replied, beaming at him. "You're so great, Gnar. Seriously."

Maxie knew the comment was more for _her_ own benefit. She also knew that no matter how much of his help he offered, the wedding preparations would all fall on her shoulders. Who else, besides the indifferent groom, would Van trust to make any decisions? Maxie sighed again. Suddenly she was exhausted.

"So, first things first. We have to meet with the—"

"Wedding planner?" Maxie interjected. "You're hiring one of those, aren't you?"

"Why should I spend money on a wedding planner, Max? You and I are perfectly capable of doing it ourselves. What I was going to say is a caterer. I've been looking at a few different companies and, obviously being a chef, I want you to come along to interview them."

Van didn't stop talking but Maxie stopped listening when her phone buzzed and a text message from Vince appeared on her screen.

TONIGHT? it read.

She grinned. _Perfect timing_.

DEFINITELY _,_ she typed back.

I HAVE THE HANDCUFFS. U BRING THE WHIPPED CREAM.

She giggled. "What's so funny?" Isaac asked from across the table.

She looked up to find Isaac, Gnar, and Van all staring at her. Her face flushed red and she set down her phone. "Nothing. I'm listening."

"Are you?" Van demanded. "Or are you texting _Vince_?"

"Oh, Vince," Gnar said with a nod. "The funny guy."

Before Maxie could reply, the landline rang. With a sigh of relief, she quickly rose from her seat. "I'll get it."

"Is this guy even attractive?" Maxie heard Van ask before she picked up the phone.

"I'd like to speak to Maxie," came a woman's voice from the other end of the line, formal and sharp. "And don't you dare hang up on me!"

"Excuse me? This is Maxie, who is this?"

There was a brief pause and then a heavy sigh. "Maxie," the woman said. "Is it really you?"

"Who _is_ this?"

"This is... Well, I'm calling because..." Another pause, another sigh. "Wow, I've been trying to get you on the phone for two months already, and now that I finally have you, I don't know what to say."

"You can start with your name."

"Right," she said. "My name is Nicole. Nicole Shannen." Maxie inhaled sharply. A relative? An aunt or a distant cousin? Her father had never been close with his family, so she'd never met anyone from his side except his mother. What could this _Nicole Shannen_ want with her now?

Maybe it was something about her father. Maybe he was in trouble. In jail. Dead.

"What can I do for you?" Maxie asked.

Nicole was silent for a moment, and with each passing second, Maxie felt the thump of her pulse quickening. _Just tell me!_ _Is he dead?_ she wanted to scream. She told herself he was; maybe expecting it would soften the blow. Not that she knew if the blow would even _need_ softening. Her father may as well have been dead for years. What difference would it make if now he actually was?

_It wouldn't make a difference_ , Maxie told herself. _It wouldn't matter_. But the panic didn't cease, nor did the sudden and severe ache of emptiness she felt at the thought of having no one left. Officially.

Finally, Nicole spoke again. "I'm Victor Shannen's wife."

Maxie recoiled. She felt as if her insides had gone completely cold. Completely numb. She pressed herself to the counter as her legs weakened under her. She opened her mouth to speak again, but no words came forth.

"Are you there?" Nicole asked. "Maxie?"

"Yes," she murmured, her voice just above a whisper.

"I know this must be quite a shock to you, but please, hear me out. I'm not sure if you remember me, but we ran into each other a few months ago at that little coffee shop on the Upper West Side. I was with my daughter." Maxie shut her eyes. She remembered. Of _course_ she remembered. The little girl had come flying around the corner, crashing right into Maxie's open arms. Something about her features had stirred Maxie. Something about her round face, and her big, almond eyes, and the prominent dimple on the left side of her tiny chin. The girl was an echo of her father.

_Their_ father.

So he wasn't dead. Or maybe he was, Nicole had yet to say otherwise. Only now the panic subsided, replaced by shock, by confusion, snuffed out by the violent flare of anger that sparked to life in her chest. He got _remarried_? He had another child? Another _daughter_?

Maxie always imagined him alone somewhere, huddled in the corner of a dark room, hugging his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth, paralyzed with remorse. With self-hatred. With sorrow. But no, he hadn't been suffering at all. He was _married_. He had a _new_ family. _How dare he_?

"What do you want?" Maxie choked out, turning away from the kitchen table to face the cabinets.

"To talk," Nicole said. "To see you, even. We've been trying to find you for _so_ long, honey."

Maxie felt the walls she'd built nearly a decade ago starting to crack inside of her. Bits of her soul was starting to bleed through. "I...I don't—"

"Wait," Nicole said. "Just wait one second. He's here. I'll put him on and you can speak to him yourself—"

Maxie slammed the phone down. Still clutching it, she picked it up and slammed it down again harder.

"Who the hell was that?" Van demanded. Maxie turned back to the table, but she said nothing. Her father. Her _father_. After nine years, he found her. He _called_ her.

"You alright, Max?" asked Gnar.

He wanted to talk. He wanted to _see_ her.

"A wrong number," she choked out.

"What? A wrong— _Max_."

What would he say? What did they have to talk about? After so long, what could they _possibly_ have to discuss? Did he want to tell her about his new wife, his new daughter? Did he want to rub the fact that he'd lived a perfectly happy life without her in her face?

The thought made her queasy. Heat flushed through her, her stomach flipped. Gnar got to his feet. "Are you alright?" he repeated.

"Fine," she lied. "Is this meeting adjourned?"

Perplexed, Van went to her friend. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. Really." She lowered her eyes, shook her head. Her fingers began to ache and she realized she was still clutching the edge of the counter. "Look, just tell me what you need me to do for the wedding, alright? Whatever you need, I'll do it."

This seemed to placate Van. "Alright. Saturday will be the first fitting for dresses and tuxes. You don't have to work, do you?"

"I'll get my shift covered," Maxie assured.

Van beamed. "Perfect!"

Van started prattling on again, but Gnar came around the table to stand before Maxie. "Hey," he said. "You look a little red."

"Huh? Do I?" She raised her hand to her cheek, slightly turning her face into her palm. Her blood pumped hot under her skin, her fingers trembled. She folded them into a fist when she saw Gnar's eyes fall on them.

"Who was that on the phone?" he asked.

And then Isaac was behind him, brows knitted together, gaze set on her face. "Yeah. Who?" he echoed.

"Wrong number," she repeated. Sidestepping her way out from beneath their scrutiny, she said, "I have to go. See you guys on Saturday."

#

NOW

Maxie stood before the mirror in the small bridal parlor, admiring her reflection in the tall, narrow mirror. She noticed it made her look thinner, and couldn't help but wonder if the shop chose those particular mirrors for that exact purpose.

She could hear the gasps of Kathy; Van's mother, Elanna; the second bridesmaid, and even the salesgirl, as Van emerged from her own fitting room, no doubt draped in a wedding gown puffier and more extravagant than the last. Maxie almost couldn't bear to set eyes on another one.

" _That_ is the one," Elanna gushed. "Really, this time."

Maxie rolled her eyes. That was the same thing she'd said about the last two dresses. "You said that about the last two," Van said. "Where's Max? Max! Come out and tell me what you think of this one!"

"You don't _have_ to choose one now, Van," said Maxie as she gathered the bottom of her own gown in her hands and stepped out of her tiny room.

" _Wow_ ," Van said as her eyes fell on her friend. "Maxie, you look stunning." The silky fabric of the blood red dress clung to Maxie's curves, billowing out gracefully around her feet. The low neckline revealed more cleavage than she thought appropriate for a wedding, though Van seemed pleased.

"Ditto," Maxie admitted, genuinely impressed by the gown Van wore. Unlike the others, it wasn't overly bedazzled or unmanageably puffy. The strapless dress hugged her figure to her knees before offering a dramatic yet tasteful flare at the bottom. "It's beautiful, Van."

"You think so?" she asked, spinning around before the mirror. "It isn't too plain?"

"I like the last one," Kathy said. "It had more pizazz."

"I think this one is perfect," Maxie objected, feeling the subtle pang of pride for her friend that she knew she'd been meant to feel since the beginning. "You look amazing."

Van smiled as tears welled in her eyes. "I think this is it," she said. Both Elanna and Kathy squealed with delight. Maxie, on the other hand, simply smiled. It was all she could muster without the thin shell that hid her misery shattering to reveal her true feelings to the women.

"Let's see it with the veil," Kathy said, adjusting her daughter's pin straight locks.

"I don't have one," Van replied.

"I'll grab one," said the salesgirl.

"No, I will," Maxie offered, already hurrying off before anyone else could volunteer. Once she was alone again, she exhaled.

It seemed like overnight the wedding preparation kicked into overdrive. Her anger and her sadness and her guilt and bitterness were gradually melting into acceptance. Or maybe she was just too busy playing her role as the dutiful roommate, the dutiful best friend, the dutiful sister, and now the dutiful maid-of-honor, to notice.

Every day, Van was dragging her along to look at venues for the reception, flower arrangements, cake tastings, and now, dress fittings. Maxie felt more involved than Isaac, who constantly dismissed Van with the wave of a hand.

If she wasn't so busy resenting him for agreeing to marry her best friend in the first place, she certainly would have resented him for _this._

She made her way through the small shop in search of veils. A large sign pointed her toward the back of the store. There, she found Isaac. He was tucked away in a small corner, hidden in a row of large ball gowns. His eyes widened guiltily when he saw her, but he quickly relaxed. "Oh," he said. "It's just you."

"Yeah. Just me," she replied.

His gaze moved down the length of her and up again. "You look...beautiful," he breathed.

She smiled tightly. "Thanks."

"Are you hiding out, too?" he asked.

"No, I'm actually helping Van," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Because as much as I feel like hiding out, she can't plan this whole thing by herself, and the groom seems to think that his only job is to _show up_."

His brows furrowed and he stood. "You're right. I'm sorry. This is just..." He sighed. " _A lot._ I thought people stayed engaged for like, I don't know. A year or two?"

"It's been that long," she said, dryly. "You just can't remember."

He lowered his eyes, "Look, Max—"

"You want this, don't you?"

"A wedding?"

"A marriage."

For a moment, he said nothing. His eyes went to the floor and he sighed lightly. "Of course," he finally replied. "I did before, at least. Right? So I can again."

She swallowed the lump in her throat. He did before; of course. When he'd been pretending to be in love with her. _Then_. It took everything she had in her not to roll her eyes at him and walk away. And then he asked, "What do _you_ think?"

"About what?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. This whole thing. You knew me better than anyone, didn't you?" She thought she had. " _Is_ this what I wanted before?"

"What does that matter?" she asked. "You can't _remember_ before. Stop searching for answers in the past and just focus on making new memories in the future."

He nodded. "With Van."

Again, she looked away. "Yeah. Apparently so."

"Van was willing to start over for me, because that was what I needed. So I'm willing to do this for her, because it's what _she_ needs. It's only fair."

"Yeah. Of course," said Maxie.

Another heavy silence fell between them, full of questions unasked, truths untold. Maxie could practically feel them all in the air she was breathing, scratching the inside of her throat when she inhaled.

"Hey!" came a voice behind them. Exchanging final glances, Maxie and Isaac both turned to see Gnar coming toward them. "I see you found the runaway groom," he said to Maxie, placing a hand on her back. He smiled down on her. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," she replied. "You look good, too."

He took a step back and shifted from side to side to show off his tuxedo. It fit him perfectly. "Yeah? I do clean up pretty well, don't I?"

Isaac rolled his eyes with a scoff and for the first time Maxie noticed _his_ suit. All white—on Van's insistence—with a red bowtie that complimented Maxie's dress. The sleeves were a little short and the pants seemed just a half-size too large, and still he looked so handsome, so breathtakingly handsome. Her face flushed as indecent thoughts of him flooded her mind.

He met her gaze and she had to look away.

"How much longer?" he asked.

"Tony finally agreed on the suit so we're just about done," said Gnar of Van's younger brother. They were all too aware of how difficult Tony could be. Sometimes Maxie wondered how his brain stayed sixteen, even with his body turning twenty-two.

"I think Van finally chose a dress, too." She quickly looked around and spotted a veil. Plucking it off the mannequin's head, she said, "We'll be finished in just a minute."

She hurried back across the store to where Van stood with Kathy and Elanna. They all stared at Van's dress in the mirror, Kathy clutching her daughter's arm and Elanna's eyes filled with longing. "What took so long?" Kathy demanded when Maxie appeared in the reflection behind them.

"I ran into the boys," she admitted.

"How are they doing? Did you see Isaac? Does he look handsome?" Van asked.

"They all do," she assured.

Van exhaled heavily as Kathy raised the veil to her hair. Once it was on her head, they all began squealing again.

Maxie could only smile.

"Are you sure you want to get it now, Van? This is only the first shop we've looked at," Kathy said.

"This is the one, Mom," she said. "When you're sure, you're sure. This dress makes me feel like a _bride_." She beamed at Isaac and squeezed his hand.

"Alright then," Kathy said. "As long as you're sure."

"Oh, my God!" came a women's voice as they approached the counter. Maxie looked up and gasped. " _Oh,_ my God!" the girl repeated.

"Sarah?"

"Maxie Shannen!" Sarah cried, rushing out from behind the register with open arms. She and Maxie embraced. "How _are_ you? Oh, my God! I can't even believe it's you!" She stepped back to give Maxie a onceover and her eyes widened. "Wait a second! Are you getting _married_?"

Maxie nearly choked. " _No_ ," she said. "No, not me." Then—reluctantly—she turned and motioned toward her friend. "Van is. You remember Van, right?"

Sarah's smile melted instantly. Van smirked. "Hey, Sarah. Long time."

"Yeah," Sarah said stiffly, though the words _not long enough_ showed clearly in her expression. Turning back to Maxie, she said, "Wow. You guys stayed friends, huh? All these years?"

"Of course," Van said. " _Best_ friends. She's my maid of honor."

Sarah's jaw clenched and she let go of Maxie's hands to make her way behind the counter again. "So what can I do for you today?" she asked, her voice suddenly flat and formal. Maxie only wondered if the tension suffocated the rest of the group as it suffocated her. From the way Gnar shifted fitfully beside her and Elanna raised a puzzled brow, Maxie thought so.

"She wants to purchase this one," said the salesgirl that had been helping them.

Sarah took the dress and held it up. "This one? This _exact_ one?"

"Yes," said Van.

"Is there something wrong with that one?" Kathy asked.

"Well, no," said Sarah, "except that it's the display dress, and we can't sell you the display dress."

Disappointment seized Van's features. She opened her mouth to object, but Kathy quickly raised a hand to stop her. "Well, then get us one that you _can_ sell us."

"I would," said Sarah. "But this one actually isn't available at the warehouse anymore."

"What about in a bigger size?" Van ventured. "Then I can just get it taken in?"

Sarah shrugged with faux regret. "Nope. This is the very last one. Sorry."

Van let out a crushing moan. Kathy leaned across the counter toward Sarah, who didn't flinch. "You don't _look_ sorry."

"I am," she said, her tone devoid of any emotion; sympathy, in particular.

"No, you aren't!" Van lashed out. "Jesus, it's been four years! You can't possibly still be mad!"

Sarah blinked. False bewilderment. Another shrug. "I don't know what you mean."

"We were practically kids! Jesus!" Van cried. "I'm getting married now! Can't you see I've moved on?"

"Why wouldn't _you_ move on, Savannah?" Sarah asked, cocking her head to the side. "What did _you_ lose?"

"Are you _kidding_? You can't _not_ sell me this dress because of something that happened in college!"

Another shrug. "I'm not selling you this dress because it's policy."

"Alright," Kathy said, raising her palms to the both of them. "What's going on here? Van, what did you do to her?"

"I barely even remember!" Van shrieked.

"No? How about you, Maxie?" Sarah asked, her eyes darting in Maxie's direction. "Do _you_ remember?"

"I...well...I mean..." Maxie stammered, moving back until she bumped into Gnar's solid frame. She felt his large hand move to her shoulder.

" _Maxie_ ," Kathy pressed. "Are you going to say something?"

"Something like _what_?" Maxie demanded.

"Something!" Van said. "She's _your_ friend!"

"I haven't seen her in years!" Maxie shot back. _Thanks to you_.

Kathy rolled her eyes, dismissing Maxie with the wave of a hand. "I want to speak to a manager," Kathy said.

Her smug grin never fading, Sarah said, "That would be me."

"Then get the owner," Van ordered.

Grin swelling, Sarah said, "That would _also_ be me. Well, my parents actually, but just as well..."

"Oh, for the love of God! We'll pay you double for the damn dress!"

"That's generous of you," Sarah replied, "but this is a display dress and I can't sell you a display dress."

"Then why the hell did you let her try it on?" Kathy asked.

The salesgirl opened her mouth to offer an explanation but could barely form a sentence. "Our mistake," Sarah said for her. "Feel free to have a look around for something different, though."

"I don't _want_ anything different! _Maxie!_ "

With a sigh, Maxie stepped forward. "Sarah, please—"

"Don't, Maxie. I don't think I can _bear_ to watch you fight yet _another_ one of her battles." She turned sharply to Van. "You're not _getting_ this dress. Period."

With a defeated huff, Van spun on her heel and stalked out of the store.

Maxie was spinning. Slowly, steadily, with her arms outstretched and the cold breeze on her face. Before long, she felt like she was flying. Like she would fly away.

She spun faster. She could feel her skirt rising up around her waist. Her body seemed lighter. Weightless. Empty. Then she lost her footing, stumbled, and fell straight into the arms of Isaac.

She opened her eyes and there he was, holding her against his chest. "Hey," he said with a small smile.

"Hey," she replied.

She straightened herself, but for the longest of seconds, Isaac's hands remained on her. "I thought you'd be out for the evening," he said, finally letting her go. "Maybe with Vince?"

She began to spin again, only this time she watched the movement of the sky. "Vince has a real date tonight."

Isaac chuckled. "Fair enough."

"Where's Van?"

"Out with Elanna. Drinking away the day's woes."

"Wedding dress woes," Maxie said, and then laughed.

"What did Van do to that girl?" Isaac asked.

With a sigh, Maxie said, "Van did what she does."

"Well, what does she _do_?"

Again, Maxie stopped spinning. "Sarah was _my_ friend," she said. "I met her on my very first day at NYSPA and we instantly just clicked. Even our _schedules_ matched." She shrugged. "Naturally we spent a lot of time together."

"Let me guess. Van hated her."

"Of course. She didn't even _know_ Sarah, but she _always_ had something rude to say about her." Maxie shook her head, remembering. "After a while, it started to feel like I was having an affair. I had to _sneak_ to hang out with Sarah, just so I wouldn't have to hear Van's nasty little comments when I left the apartment. Finally I told her that she needed to stop. I told her that I was going to be friends with Sarah, and I didn't want to hear her mouth about it."

"Uh oh," said Isaac, crossing his arms over his chest. Maxie nodded.

"One day, we were out at lunch, and Van just popped up. She sat down with us and ordered food. I was actually _nervous_. I thought she'd sit there huffing and hawing the whole time, or making snide comments. But she didn't. She was actually pleasant. She talked and laughed and made Sarah laugh. She _complimented_ Sarah. And afterward, she apologized to me, and said she actually liked Sarah."

Isaac raised an eyebrow as if to say, _what's the catch_? Maxie raised a hand as if to say, _I'm getting to it_. "Sarah's birthday was that weekend, and Van came along to celebrate. Sarah was really excited because her boyfriend, who was in school in California at the time, was coming to spend it with her. When I met him, it felt like I knew him already. She talked about him _constantly_. They'd been together since high school, and had all these plans to travel together after college before settling down and getting married. It was sweet," she said.

"But..."

"But then Van slept with him," Maxie said acidly. "We all went out for Sarah's birthday, Van got her absolutely _wasted_ , and then fucked her boyfriend in the bathroom of her apartment at the end of the night."

"Jesus," Isaac said, shaking his head.

"When she told me about it later, she was _laughing_."

' _What's so funny?' Maxie demands. '_ Fuck _, Van. Why? Why would you_ do _that?'_

' _It wasn't_ just _me,' Van says with a shrug._

Maxie frowns. 'Do you even care?'

' _Why should I? She's not_ my _friend.'_

"Jesus," Isaac repeated.

"When her boyfriend left, Sarah was really sad. She came over to the apartment after dropping him off at the airport and I couldn't even _look_ at her. Then in comes Van, sits down with us, and tells Sarah she has something to say."

"Oh, no," Isaac groaned.

' _I'm only telling you this because, even though we haven't known each other very long, I know you're a good person, and you deserve to know. I hate to see you crying over someone who doesn't deserve your tears.'_

Sarah blinks. 'What are you talking about?'

' _Van,' Maxie moans, dropping her head in her hands._

' _Something happened the other night, Sarah...between Josh and me..."_

"Needless to say, Sarah and I were no longer friends after that. We spoke twice since then. She and Josh never got back together."

Isaac chuckled. "You gotta give it to Van. She sure knows how to bring a gun to a knife fight."

What was that in his tone? _Pride_? "Pretty impressive, huh?" said Maxie dryly.

"Creative, that's for sure." With a shrug, he said, "That's Van for you. She knows how to get what she wants."

"Well, I'm glad you think it's _cute._ "

"I didn't say that—"

"You don't need to say it. I can tell by that dumb little grin on your face. Sarah was my _friend_. I get that Van didn't give a shit about _her_ , but couldn't she at least have respected _me_?"

Lowering his eyes, he said, "You're right."

Crossing her arms over her chest, she said, "I'm glad Sarah didn't sell her the stupid dress."

Isaac looked at her, his brows knitted together, and Maxie couldn't help but laugh. It was _her_ he regarded with disapproval. As if _she_ should have felt ashamed. With a heavy sigh, she thought, _maybe I should_.

But she didn't. For once, she didn't.

THEN

As soon as Maxie stepped in the gym, she felt all eyes fall on her. She tried to ignore the stares and whispers as she searched for Isaac amongst the dozens of sweaty men. When she found him, punching and kicking a large punching bag in the back, she sighed a breath of relief and started toward him.

Maybe she should have called.

She liked surprising him. Mostly because he liked to be surprised by her. But the walk across that room, alone except for the stares, almost made it not worth it. Of course, in seconds, she would see his face light up, and his smile, and it would be worth it again. Halfway across the room, however, a man stepped in her path. He looked completely different then he had the last time she saw him; now he was shirtless, sweaty, and sober. It was Drew.

She would never have known just by looking at him that Isaac had punched him in the nose. That night in the bar, after Drew had gotten too close, too touchy-feely, too persistent despite her blatant disinterest, Maxie had wondered if Isaac had broken his nose, his _face_. She'd almost felt bad for Drew.

But apparently he hadn't learned his lesson.

"Well, hello," he said, smiling widely. "Long time, no see." _Not long enough_ , she thought, remembering how close he'd gotten to her once, how his hands had gripped her waist, pulled her against his drunken, sweaty body. She forced a polite smile and grumbled what sounded like "hey" as she moved past him, not even meeting his eyes. "Hold on, wait," he said, taking her by the arm. Why was he always _grabbing_ her? "What are you doing here?"

She pulled her arm away from him. "I'm here for Isaac."

"Let me help you find him, then," he offered.

"No, thanks. I already found him."

He narrowed his eyes. "You his girl?"

"His friend."

His smile widened. " _Just_ his friend?"

Maxie's frown deepened and she took a step back. She tried to move around him but again, he stepped in her path. " _Excuse_ me," she snapped.

"Hey, hey, I was just joking," he said, raising his palms to her, still grinning stupidly. It irked her. "Listen, I'm sorry about that night in the bar. I was just drunk, alright? Let's start over." He extended his hand for her to shake, but she didn't take it. "What? They're clean." After a moment, his grin faded. "Too good to shake my hand, huh?"

Suddenly Daniel Gnar appeared beside them. He slapped a friendly hand on Drew's shoulder. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Nothing. Me and the lady are just getting acquainted," Drew said.

Maxie turned up her nose at him. "Actually, I was looking for Isaac."

"Isaac's right over there," Gnar said, nodding toward the back of the gym.

"I _know_ that," Maxie replied.

"I'll get him," he said. "Come with me." Shooting Drew one last glare, Maxie followed close behind Gnar. "Sorry about him," Gnar said, once they were out of earshot. "He's a little obnoxious sometimes, but he's really not a bad guy."

"I doubt that," Maxie said. "Thanks for getting him away from me, anyway."

She glanced up at him and his eyes were fixed on her face, moving back and forth across his features. Flushing red, she looked away again. "Well, I think I've got it from here. Thanks again."

"Yeah," he said, letting her go off on her own. She could feel his gaze on her until she reached Isaac. When Isaac's gaze fell on her, she felt nothing else at all.

"Hi," she greeted him.

He turned to her and his face brightened. With no regard to his sweat or the way he smelled, he embraced her fully. She didn't mind his sweat, though, and even after a workout, he smelled just fine.

He pulled back to examine her; her pink toe nails, her perfect, _perfect_ legs, her tiny cut-off shorts and flimsy tank top. Her hair was down and wild, framing her face; her chest and shoulders were damp with a thin layer of sweat. "You look pretty today," he said as casually as he could manage. "I like your shorts."

She smiled bashfully. How is it that he still made her blush with the most trivial of compliments? "I know, that's why I wore them," she admitted.

He leaned close to her, so close his lips brushed against her ear. "I can't wait to take them off of you."

Did her temperature go up another degree under his hands? He flattered himself that it did. His own temperature was rising at the thought of having her alone again, in his arms, under his hands, against his mouth.

If he could only get her to relax. To forget about Van and her own guilt. Maybe he could even try his hand at convincing her to just come clean to Van, once and for all. She'd shirked his previous attempts, but he wouldn't give up. Telling Van was the only way he and Maxie could ever be together. Ever _really_ be together.

Suddenly, she inhaled sharply, jerking him from his thoughts. "What's wrong?" he said, following her eyes. When he spotted Gnar, Gnar looked away from Maxie. With a heavy sigh, Isaac said, "Max, wait outside for me, will you? I'll just be a minute."

"Hurry," she said, gazing up at him. He looked down into her big eyes and moist lips. Of course he would hurry.

He waited for her to disappear out of the back door before turning away. Moments later, Gnar was at his side. "Leaving early again?" he asked.

"I'm allowed, aren't I?"

"Sure. You've just been leaving early a lot."

"I'm allowed. Aren't I?" Isaac repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"You barely come out anymore," Gnar continued to observe. "Is it safe to say that she's the one that's been keeping you busy when you aren't here?"

Isaac chuckled. "Are we gossiping teenage schoolgirls? I have a life outside of this place, you know."

"And she's a big part of it, I assume."

"Assume what you want."

Gnar nodded. "You got it, boss."

Isaac met Maxie outside where she stood leaning against the brick wall of the building, her favorite novel in her hands, her eyes darting back and forth over the pages. "Should I come back later?" he teased.

She looked up at him, but for a short second, Isaac knew her mind was still wrapped around the words of her book. Then she blinked and smiled. "No," she said.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. They kissed, long and hotly, right there on the street. When they parted, he trailed his hand down the length of her spine, resting on the small of her back as he gently prodded her forward. "My last show of the semester is coming up. And then I graduate," she said.

"I'll be there," he assured.

"And then I start working with that choreographer."

"You decided to take the job, huh?"

She shrugged. "Why not? What else am I going to do?"

"Hmm," he said thoughtfully. "How about you graduate and we run away together? Elope. To Vegas or something."

Maxie laughed and playfully swatted him. "Elope?"

"Mm hmm. We'll buy a small house, outside of a city. And you can start having lots of babies—"

" _Babies_?"

"Yep. Four or five."

She blew a puff of air out from between her lips. "That's a lot of babies."

"What do you say?" he pressed. "We can go right after you graduate?"

She looked up at him with sad eyes. "I wish. I really, _really_ wish."

He smirked. "I guess that is a lot to hope for right now, huh?" She nodded. "Okay, well, how about you just come to Ohio with me next week then? One night alone with you was a tease, Max."

"Ohio?"

"For a few days."

"How are we supposed to pull that off, Isaac? Do we just tell Van that we're taking a little trip together? Do you expect her to be okay with it?"

Kissing her face, he replied, "You just let me handle Van."

She shook her head. "No. No, that's just..." _Crossing the line_? The line had long ago been crossed, and remained so far behind them it was practically non-existent. Still... "It's just one weekend," he said. "A _whole_ weekend, Max. Just _us_."

She bit down on her bottom lip, her guilt and her desire having a tug of war inside of her. She could say no. No to the weekend, no to him, to _them._ She could end it all as she swore to herself she eventually would. Eventually could be _now_ , and she could absolve herself of the constant ache of shame and bitterness and longing.

But of course, the longing would never go away. Even with him, she didn't have him. And if she ended things with him, she certainly wouldn't have him. And somehow _that_ seemed like the worse thing of all.

A whole weekend.

Just us.

What was one weekend, in the grand scheme of things? she thought. After that, she would end it. She would indulge in just a bit more of him, and then put a stop to their madness before it spiraled out of control—if it wasn't spiraling already.

"Fine," she said. "If we can find a way—"

"We will," he said, taking her hand. She looked up at him and he was smiling. "We're going to find a way."

When they arrived at the apartment later that evening, Van was waiting for them. "How was work?" she asked Isaac, raising her mouth to his. He kissed her cheek.

"Long," he replied, though he'd left after just a couple of hours there.

"And school?" she asked Maxie.

"Fine," Maxie replied, though she hadn't gone at all.

I have to go to Ohio for some business next week," he told Van as they made their way to the kitchen table. "I want you to come with me. Since I missed your trip to DC and all."

Maxie turned to him with wide eyes, but he didn't even look in her direction. "Next week?" Van said.

"Yep. Thursday through Sunday. I know it's short notice, but maybe you could come along?"

Van frowned. "Babe, you know I work Thursday through Sunday. There's no way I could get off on such short notice."

Maxie glared at him as he continued to press her. "C'mon, could you try? I really don't want to make that drive by myself. And you know I'm afraid of flying."

Maxie rolled her eyes. He was _not_ afraid of flying. "I could try, but I'm telling you right now, there's no way I'm going to get anyone to cover my shifts. Plus, I have a pretty important shoot on Saturday morning that I couldn't possibly miss." She raised an eyebrow and turned to Maxie. "Why don't _you_ take the drive with him?"

Maxie's mouth fall agape. Had he been _expecting_ her to say that? She looked at him and he sat with a tiny smirk. "Me?"

"Don't feel obligated," Isaac said, almost jovially. "There isn't much to do there, and I'll be handling business most of the weekend, so you'll pretty much be on your own."

"Well, she doesn't have anything else to do, do you, Max?"

"Still, I don't want to impose," said Isaac.

Van waved him off. "You're not imposing! I just told you, she has nothing else to do! Why don't you just go, Max? It won't kill you."

Isaac tilted his head to the side, his eyes burrowed into her. "Would it kill you, Max?" he asked.

She couldn't help but chuckle. "No, I guess it wouldn't."

He let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. It was all Maxie could do not to roll her eyes and laugh out loud. "Thanks, Maxie. I owe you," he said, then turned to Van. "Maybe you can come along next time?"

She smiled and kissed him as she stood. "I'd love to. I guess I'll go hop in the shower while you two hash out the details."

Isaac nodded and remained still until she was gone. Once her door shut, Maxie jumped from her seat and swatted at him from across the table. "I can't believe you!" she whispered.

He laughed and leaned over to kiss her. "I told you I would handle it."

"We can _not_ go."

"But we _are_ going. You agreed."

"Isaac—"

"Maxie," he said, teasingly. "Stop it. It won't kill you, you said so yourself." She glared at him and he laughed triumphantly.

#

THEN

Maxie paused in front of the restaurant where Isaac had instructed her to meet him and frowned. It was a sports bar, very all-American, very _non_ -Isaac. She almost took out her cellphone to call him when she spotted him through the window, sharing a table with an older gentleman.

So she wasn't mistaken. Fluffing her curls, she went inside. When Isaac spotted her, his eyes illuminated and he rose from his seat. "Hi," he said as she approached.

"Hey," she said, peering around the place. Public places with Isaac made her antsy, though he didn't seem to share her anxiety because he took her face in his hands and kissed her full on, right there in the middle of the restaurant.

"Maximilienne," he said, pulling away. He didn't miss a beat, though she felt flushed and breathless. "I have someone I want you to meet."

He turned her toward the older gentleman who stood there, grinning widely at them. "Oh," she said, struggling to regain her bearings. "Um, hi."

" _Bonjour_ ," he said with a nod.

Maxie's eyes widened with surprise. "Maxie, I'd like you to meet George."

George? Where had she heard that name before? She searched her memory for the name, for mentions of the man before her. When she finally found it, she sucked in a sharp breath. "George?" She looked up at Isaac. "Your mother's French fiancé?"

George threw back his head in mirth. " _Oui, oui_!" he said, opening his arms to the title. Then he said something in French along the lines of his reputation preceding him, though Maxie could barely make it out. His accent was heavy and smooth, and he spoke fast.

"George, this is my girlfriend, Maximilienne."

Maxie's eyes widened at the word _girlfriend,_ but George gathered her in his arms before she could object. "It's such a pleasure to meet you at last, _cherie,_ " he gushed. "The boy won't shut up about you."

Maxie laughed. "Good things, I hope," she said.

" _Everything_ ," George said.

"Have a seat," said Isaac, pulling out a chair for Maxie before taking his own again. He let his arm rest just behind her, and she sat back just to feel it against her.

"Dinner with my boy and his beautiful woman," said George. "Like a dream come true. How long has it been?"

"Too long," Isaac said, beaming.

"Ah, but here we are. Maximilienne," he said, "maybe you can get him back to France for a visit soon? Have you ever been to Paris?"

"No, never," Maxie admitted.

"You two will come together then. You'll stay right in my house. You can sleep in Isaac's old room."

Shaking his head, Isaac said, "I can't believe you still live in the same house."

"I can't move," George said. "Your mother chose that house herself." Isaac lowered his eyes, and George sighed. Silence occupied the space between them for a moment. Finally, George asked, "What about you two? When did you meet?"

"Christmas," Isaac said, smiling at Maxie. "Right, babe?"

"Yes, Christmas."

"Ah, what a gift," said George.

Touching her cheek, Isaac said, "She was the best gift."

Maxie smiled, but she could only think of how that night had ended; her alone in her room, Isaac and Van laughing the night away in the living room.

Maxie took a bite of her shrimp scampi and frowned. "Not as good as yours, huh?" Isaac asked. "I noticed, too."

She chewed slowly and swallowed with some hesitation. "I'm not used to eating out," she admitted. "It's a little dry."

"You cook?" George asked her. She nodded and his eyes lit up. Looking at Isaac, he said, "She cooks!"

"I told you," Isaac replied, reaching for Maxie's hand. She instinctively scanned the area for any signs of anyone who would recognize her.

"What else?" George asked, leaning toward her. "Tell me, what else is there? Do you fight, too? Can you take him in the ring?"

"Not in the _ring_ ," said Isaac.

With a gasp, Maxie swatted him, but George only roared with laughter. "That's even better, _chérie_ ," he said. "Besides, _no one_ can take him in the ring. No one except me, of course."

This time, it was Isaac who laughed. "You may be right, George. I don't have as much heat as I used to."

"Because you don't have as much anger," he said, pride in his voice. Turning to Maxie, he said, "His mother didn't want him to fight. But he had lots of—how do you say?" He said something to Isaac in French, and Isaac chuckled.

"Aggression."

"Ah, yes! So much _aggression._ It made him an impatient boy. But a _dangerous_ opponent. Now look at him," he said, waving a hand at Isaac. "He's like a butterfly. Gentle and pretty."

Both Maxie and George laughed as Isaac rolled his eyes. "We'll see about that in the gym later," he said.

"We will see!" George said, fiercely accepting the challenge. "Don't forget who taught you, boy!"

Even after they finished their food, they sat and talked. Maxie couldn't get enough of George' stories about Isaac as a boy. Even though they'd only lived together for a couple years during Isaac's childhood, George spoke as if he'd raised him from birth. And Isaac's mother; he spoke of her as if he'd just lost her yesterday.

"You must miss her," Maxie said.

He nodded. "Ah, _oui_. Every day, _chérie_. I miss..." He paused a moment, his eyes unfocused as he remembered, the corners of his lips turned slightly upward. "I miss her smile," he said. "And her eyes. And I miss her hands. They were the softest hands I've ever held."

Before Maxie could reply, Isaac pulled her hand forward and placed it in George'. "Here, George," he said. "Hold this one."

George closed his fingers around Maxie's, and without opening his eyes, smiled.

"So, tell me," George said. "How is Jenny?" Before Isaac could reply, George turned to Maxie. "Have you met Jenny? She's something, no? The only other woman besides his mother who could keep this one in line."

He reached over and squeezed Isaac's shoulder, giving him a firm shake. "Jenny's alright. Still keeping me in line."

George and Maxie both laughed at that. "And what about your friend?" George asked. "The sneaky one?"

"Daniel," Isaac said. Maxie's eyes widened.

"You know Daniel Gnar?"

Turning up his nose, George said, "I've met the boy." He mumbled something in French that Maxie took to be an expletive of some sort.

"George says Gnar can't see anything past the dollar signs in his eyes."

"He tried to steal my pocket watch!" George cried, followed by more French obscenities.

Isaac didn't deny the accusation. "He isn't perfect. And, to be fair, the thing was probably worth more than what both his parents' brought home in a year."

"Have _you_ met this Daniel?" George asked Maxie.

She nodded. "Oh, Maxie has definitely met Daniel. If I didn't know any better, I'd even say he has a bit of a crush on her," Isaac said with an amused grin. But George was still frowning.

"Be careful," he warned. "If he'll cross his own friend for something of monetary value, imagine the lengths he'll go for something _priceless_."

After dinner, Maxie went along with Isaac to show George the gym. She couldn't help but smile as he took in the place, stroking the equipment as if they were precious works of art, shaking his head as his pride overflowed from him. "She would be so proud of you," he kept saying. "She would be so proud, my boy."

"I like to think so, George."

"Now I see how you stay in such good shape," said George.

Isaac glanced at Maxie. "This is one of the ways."

"You look good, but can you still go?"

With a chuckle, Isaac said, "Without a doubt."

George nodded. "Let's see what you got then!"

Grinning, Isaac motioned toward the mat. "After you, old man."

Maxie sat and watched as Isaac and George rolled around on the mat, laughing and taunting one another as they caught each other in arm and leg locks, choke holds, and even more that Maxie couldn't keep up with. George was still surprisingly quick and agile for his age, though still no match for Isaac who moved swiftly and gracefully, with unmatched strength. Maxie couldn't take her eyes off of him; not his muscular arms nor his wide smile, nor his bright eyes.

She wanted to roll around with him herself, outside of George's or anyone else's company.

After a while, George threw in the towel, falling to his back breathlessly. He said something in French and Isaac laughed. "He just admitted he can't take me anymore," Isaac told Maxie.

"I said no such thing!" George shot back, and they both laughed more.

Maxie bit down on her bottom lip, aching to get up and go to Isaac, aching to put her arms around him, kiss him. She'd never seen him laugh so much, she'd never seen him so exuberant. He was glowing.

Then, the main door to the gym opened. "Shit," he said, getting to his feet. "I forgot to lock the door. We're closed!" he called.

"Isaac?" came a familiar voice. Maxie's heart nearly stopped. She got to her feet just as Van appeared.

"Van," Isaac said. Maxie knew by his tone that he was equally aghast by her presence. "What are you doing here?"

She looked at George, then at Maxie. "You said you were working late. I thought I'd surprise you." She raised the black, plastic bag she was holding. "I brought dinner."

"Who's that?" George asked in French.

"Ah...Van, this is George. A family friend. He came into town so we decided to grab a bite. We ran into Maxie on our way to the restaurant, so she joined us."

Her eyes low, Maxie nodded. She couldn't look at her friend. She especially couldn't look at George. "Oh," said Van. "Why didn't you call me? I could've met you."

Isaac shrugged. "Didn't even think about it. It was really last minute."

"Isaac," George pressed, getting to his feet.

Slowly, Isaac turned to him. "George, this is Van."

"Van?"

"Savannah," Van said, stepping forward and offering her hand. "Isaac's girlfriend."

George frowned and looked at Maxie. Maxie could feel her face grow hot under his gaze. She wanted to disappear. She wanted to disintegrate. "It's nice to meet you," George said, clearly puzzled.

"Well, I was just heading out," Maxie said, at last. Still unable to meet his eyes, she said, "George, it was a pleasure."

"The pleasure was mine, _cherie_ ," he replied.

Maxie wanted to hug him. Kiss his cheek. Thank him for making Isaac bloom. Instead, she left the gym.

Isaac pushed Maxie's door open and stepped inside. She'd been waiting for him, only because she knew he'd come. "Van left," he said quietly.

She nodded, said nothing.

"Max. Maxie, I'm _so_ sorry."

"For what?" she asked, not looking up from the pages of her novel.

He sighed. "Please don't shut down on me."

"I'm not shutting down on you. I just don't see why you feel the need to apologize. I mean, what else should I expect from a life as _the other woman_?"

"You're not the other woman—"

"I am!" she cried, slamming her book down. She got to her feet and went to him. "I am, Isaac, so don't _ever_ call me your girlfriend again! What? You think you get to have _two?_ I am not your girlfriend. _Van_ is your girlfriend."

"I don't want two, Max. Just one. Just you."

She took a step back, turned away. "I was _humiliated_ ," she said. "In front of _George_. Your _George._ I can only imagine what he must _think_ of me."

"He thinks you're the prettiest, sweetest girl that I could have possibly been lucky enough to hit with my car on Christmas," Isaac said. "Just like I knew he would."

She shook her head. "Except for the fact that I'm _fucking_ my best friend's boyfriend."

Suddenly Isaac had her by the shoulders and he spun her around to face him. "You and I have never _fucked,_ Maxie. So don't say that to me again. And if you'd like to know, Van and I haven't _fucked_ in some time, either. I barely even touch her. I barely even _talk_ to her. I'm sorry that that happened today, but you're right. That _will_ be the way things are unless we _stop this_. Let's just _tell_ her."

"And then what?" Maxie asked. "Do you think we'll tell her and there won't be consequences? Do you think today we'll say, 'Van, we're in love and we're going to be together,' and tomorrow you'll come here and spend the night in _my_ bed? Kiss _me_ goodbye when you leave again?"

"I know it won't be that simple, but—"

"I can't lose them." _I can't be alone._ "They're the only family I have left." _The only family that hasn't abandoned me._

"And me? I'm your family, too, Maximilienne. You have _me._ "

She nodded, lowering her eyes. "For now," she said quietly.

He frowned, stepping away from her. "What?"

"I just mean that maybe it'll change—"

" _What_?"

"You never know, Isaac—"

"I _know_ ," he said fiercely, but she was still shaking her head.

"If you ever change your mind—"

"Maximilienne!" he said, practically aghast.

"Is it really so crazy?" she asked. "Van and Kathy and Tony would only have _another_ thing to blame me for ruining. Another man I _seduced_ and then ran off. Only this time they would be right."

"Except for one thing," he said, his hands circling her waist. He pulled her against him and tilted her chin up to meet his eyes. "I've never been more sure about anything in my life. The day I run off, Maximilienne, you'll be by my side, and we'll be heading toward the sunset."

The next night, Van climbed into bed beside Isaac and tucked herself in the curve of his arm. His eyes were closed, his head was turned away from her. Still, she wrapped her long limbs around him and raised her face to his. "George was nice," she said.

Isaac opened his eyes. "Yes."

"You don't talk about him much."

"He lives in France. I haven't seen him in almost ten years. There isn't much to say."

"Ten years. Wow. It must have been nice seeing him then. It seems like a big deal, no?"

_The biggest deal_. "Not really."

"Ten years is a long time," she said. "It _should_ have been a big deal."

_It was._ "It wasn't."

"Is that why you didn't invite me?" she asked, at last. "I mean, I figured that _must_ be the reason. But you invited Maxie, so..."

"We ran into Maxie. It was a coincidence."

"Oh," she said.

"Is that all?" Isaac asked. When Van didn't reply, Isaac closed his eyes again. "Goodnight."

"It's just that, sometimes I feel like you don't open up to me as much as you could," she said. "I didn't even _know_ you still had family in France. I didn't know you _ever_ had family in France."

"Now you know," he said. "George."

"Anyone else?"

"Just George."

"And him and your mom were engaged?" Isaac nodded. "What about your dad?"

"He died," said Isaac. "Car accident."

Van held him tighter. "Do you miss him?"

Isaac scoffed. "No. I can't say that I do."

"Why not?" she asked. "Tell me about him."

He shrugged. "There isn't much to tell."

"There must be—"

"There _isn't_ , Van," he snapped. "If I want to tell you something, I'll tell you, alright? Go to sleep."

She sat up, throwing his arm away from her as she did so. "I'm not _tired_. Unlike you. It seems like you can't get _enough_ sleep these days!"

With a sigh, Isaac opened his eyes. "You're upset because I'm _sleepy_?"

"I'm upset because you're shutting me out! Physically, and now emotionally! I just don't understand why _Maxie_ gets to meet your family and _I_ don't—"

"I already told you!"

"I don't care!" she yelled. "You should have called me! You should have invited me in the first place! I barely even _know_ you! You never introduce me to your family or friends, you won't talk to me about anything, you snap at me when I try to ask."

"Fine," he said. "Fine, Van. You want me to tell you about my father? Sit. I'll tell you about him."

Arms still crossed over her chest, Van sat at the edge of the bed. "I was ten," he began. "My mom had been complaining to my father for weeks about raccoons getting into our trashcans. She wanted him to go buy sturdier ones, with tops. Finally, after almost a month, he went to the hardware, but when he got home, he didn't have trashcans. He had _traps_."

"Traps?" said Van, puzzled.

' _We're gonna catch the motherfuckers,' Nicholas says, holding the wire traps up for Isaac's mother to see. 'Get to the root of the problem.'_

Isobel sighs. 'Or we can just get better trashcans,' she suggests tiredly, but she and Isaac both know that it's best not to argue with Nicholas—not that arguing ever helps.

Nicholas puts the traps out and, three nights later, Isaac wakes to find his father standing over his bed. 'Get up,' Nicholas says. 'We're going for a drive.'

Dread and fear tumble through Isaac, his stomach turns, his heart quickens to a furious pound. Still, he slowly rises from his bed to dress. 'What time is it?' he asks.

' _Late,' says Nicholas. 'Hurry up.'_

Isaac obliges, and minutes later he and his father are making their way out to Nicholas's old pickup truck. Isaac steals one more glance at the house, wondering if his mother has any idea of what's going on. Wondering if she'll save him.

When Isaac climbs in the truck beside his father, he gets his first whiff of whiskey. He can't be sure if it's wafting off of Nicholas, or if the smell is just a permanent fixture in the truck's cabin by now. 'Have you been drinking?' Isaac asks.

Nicholas sneers at him. 'See, that's why we're doing this. You sound like your mother. You have a lot of manning up to do, son.'

Isaac glances over his shoulder at the backseat. Nicholas's rifle, maybe the only clean thing the man owns, is across the seat. Another jolt of fear hits Isaac, the feeling so sudden and immense, it's almost physical. 'What's that for?' he asks, the strength in his voice betraying the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

' _Like I said,' Nicholas replies. 'Tonight you're gonna man up.'_

They drive in silence for what feels like hours, Isaac clutching the door every time the car swerves or jerks. At last, they turn down an empty street lined with only woods, and Nicholas pulls the car to the side of the road. 'C'mon,' he says, grabbing his gun before he climbs out.

Isaac follows him into the mouth of the woods, the darkness swallowing them as they as they go deeper. The only sounds are their footsteps, the buzz of nature, and a dog barking in the distance. 'Where are we going?' Isaac asks.

' _You'll see,' is all Nicholas says, and just a few minutes later, they arrive at their destination._

Waiting for them in the brush, is the trap. Inside, a small dog sits trembling in terror.

' _It's Franklin!' Isaac cries, recognizing the small animal from his neighbor's back yard. He moves to free Franklin, but Nicholas grabs him by the shirt._

' _This is what's been getting into the trash,' Nicholas says, then he thrusts the gun into his son's chest. 'Take care of it.'_

_Isaac's eyes widen. 'W-what?' he stammers. 'You want me to_ shoot _him?'_

' _I want you to fix the problem,' Nicholas replies._

Isaac looks at Franklin again, moaning quietly, his tiny back pressed against the corner of the cage. Isaac shakes his head. 'I can't.'

' _You can and you will—'_

' _No, I can't.'_

' _You can,' Nicholas repeats more firmly, 'And you will. It's a fucking rodent!'_

' _It's a dog!' Isaac says._

" _Shoot it, Isaac. Or we're gonna go home and leave it here to starve to death." Giving his son a small shove toward the cage, he says, 'Do it.'_

Isaac looks at the dog again, slowly shaking his head as tears well in his eyes. 'B-but why?' he moans, struggling to keep his voice strong. 'Why do we have to kill him?'

' _Because it's a problem, and you need to learn how to solve your problems.'_

' _But we can just get better trash cans to keep him out—'_

' _Shoot the fucking dog or let's go,' Nicholas says. 'Last chance.'_

Isaac peered around. Maybe he could leave it and come back for it later. Maybe he could even tell his mother, or the neighbors. But he knows the chances of finding that spot again are slim. He has no idea where they are, no idea how they got there. What if the dog dies waiting for him to get back? Slow and alone and terrified?

Swallowing hard, Isaac slowly raises the gun. His hands are shaking, he can barely see through his tears. Nicholas nods, watching his son intently. 'Now just pull the trigger,' he says.

_The dogs yelps, like one last plea for his life. Isaac sniffs and sweeps his hand across his eyes before placing it back on the gun. 'Dad,_ please _,' he moans._

' _Pull the trigger, Isaac!'_

Taking a deep breath, Isaac squeezes his eyes shut, and pulls the trigger.

"Afterward, he looked at me with this expression..." Isaac said. He paused a moment, picturing his father's face, the sparkle in his eyes, the small grin on his mouth. "Pride. He was proud of me."

"Oh, my God," Van whispered.

But Isaac shook his head. "No. God wasn't there."

"You _shot_ it?"

Isaac looked at her. "Were you listening, Van?"

"Yeah, I just...I just can't believe you'd kill a _puppy_."

Lowering his eyes, he said, "That was only the first of many things you probably wouldn't believe I've done," he said. "I'm more like my father than I ever thought I could be."

He thought of Jenny, how he'd _solved_ the problem of her boyfriend. And Maxie. How he'd _solved_ the problem of Drew, of Alex, of even Tony.

Van was silent. She stared at him, her mouth hanging slightly open, her eyes unblinking. What was she thinking? "It wasn't your fault," she said at last. "He made you do it."

Nodding, he said, "Yes. If I could go back to that night, I wouldn't shoot the dog. But everything else, Van...I wouldn't change anything else." Meeting her wide eyes, he asked, "Are you afraid of me?"

Once, he'd asked Maxie that very question, but he'd never needed to. He already knew her answer. Maxie, his Maxie, could never be afraid of him.

"No," Van replied, her voice a mere squeak. But Isaac knew fear when he saw it, and it was as clear as day in the shadows of her eyes.

NOW

It was only six in the evening when Maxie emerged from work. That left time for her to get home and soak her aching feet in a hot bath, cook dinner, even start the novel she'd purchased two weeks prior and hadn't picked up since. All while still getting to bed at a reasonable hour.

Of course, that also left time—plenty of time—for Van to reel her into wedding conversations.

After only seconds of contemplating, she decided against going back to the apartment. Instead, she made her way to a small diner just across the street from _Uptown_ that served a to-die-for apple pie a la mode.

When she reached the diner, she stood at the entrance for a moment, peering around for an isolated place to sit. It was there she found Jenny, sitting in the small booth across from Isaac.

Jenny's eyes widened when she spotted Maxie. "Hey!" she called, a wide smile on her lips. "Maxie! Over here!"

Isaac spun around in his seat, a bewildered expression on his face. _Yes, I'm surprised to see_ you _here, too_ , Maxie thought as she made her way to the table. Isaac slid over before she could plop down beside Jenny, but not enough that her hip wasn't against his when she sat. He raised his arm to the back of her chair, and she sat forward so she wouldn't have to feel it against her back. "Maxie, what a pleasant surprise!" Jenny gushed. She was beaming, and Maxie couldn't help but return her smile.

"Ditto," she said, "I didn't even know you were in town." Nudging Isaac, she said, "You weren't going to tell me?"

"I was," he replied, noncommittally.

"And Van? Are you going to tell her?"

"Of course," he said. Jenny furrowed a skeptical brow at him before turning her attention back to Maxie.

"So," she said, "How are you, honey? Isaac tells me you're waitressing now."

She nodded. "I am. Right around here, actually."

"And how is it? Are you learning a lot? Isaac tells me you want to open your own restaurant eventually."

"Eventually," Maxie echoed. "I am learning, though. The owner has really taken me under his wing."

"That's great. And no dancing at all, anymore? Isaac tells me—"

"Christ, Jenny," Isaac interjected.

Maxie smiled. "It's alright," she said. "No, no dancing anymore. I'm really trying to focus on my cookbook right now."

"Of course. That makes perfect sense. Isaac—" She stopped short as her eyes darted to Isaac. "I mean, I know firsthand how great of a cook you are. I think it's great you're doing something with it. You must be so busy, though. Working full-time while trying to publish a book."

"Yeah, I am. Between that and wedding planning, I don't even know how I make time to breathe—"

"Wedding planning?" Jenny asked, leaning forward. "Whose wedding?"

Maxie froze, her mouth hanging halfway open. She looked at Isaac, whose head was bowed. He didn't tell her. Of _course_ he didn't. Jenny looked from him to Maxie. "Whose wedding?" she repeated more firmly.

Finally, Isaac raised his eyes to his aunt. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Mine, Jenny. My wedding."

Exhaling, Jenny sat back in her seat. She blinked. Blinked again. "You're getting married?" she asked at last. He nodded. "And you planned to—what? Call me from the alter to let me know?"

"I was going to tell you today," he said, shooting a glare at Maxie.

"Don't look at her!" Jenny snapped. "It isn't _her_ fault. I'm sure she assumed you wouldn't keep something like _marriage_ from me, Isaac!"

"I wasn't keeping it from you," he said.

She let out a heavy sigh. "And who," she said evenly, "are you marrying?"

"Van," he replied.

Jenny's jaw tightened, her eyes flew to Maxie. Maxie slowly shook her head. _Don't, Jenny. Don't give it away_. "Van," Jenny breathed.

"Yes, Van," said Isaac. "Who else?"

"I should go, and give you two privacy," Maxie said.

"Don't you dare," Jenny said sharply. She looked at Isaac. "Van? Isaac, you can't be serious. _Van_? I don't even know the girl, but—"

"Right," Isaac said, raising his hand to stop her. "You don't know her. So whatever presumptuous thing you're going to say, just don't say it."

"So _you're_ the only person who's allowed a comment on someone else's relationship?" she demanded. Isaac recoiled as if her words physically hit him.

Did Jenny know that Maxie was aware of what happened between Isaac and Jenny's late boyfriend? Did Isaac remember telling Maxie that _he_ was the reason the man was dead? That it was _his_ hands that shoved the man down the stairs after years of watching Jenny tolerate the abuse? If either Jenny or Isaac were aware of Maxie's knowledge, neither of them showed it. Their gazes were locked on one another in a silent communication. Dozens of words unspoken passed between them.

Finally, Isaac said, "I'm marrying her. That's it."

"It'll be the biggest mistake of your life."

"I'll take my chances."

Bringing her attention to Maxie, she said, "And what do you have to say about this? What do you have to say about him _marrying_ her?"

Maxie shrugged. "I'm happy for them," she managed.

"Don't. Don't start that, now isn't the time. Can't you see that he's about to throw his life away? Don't you see he's making this decision based off of a lie?"

"Jenny—"

"What are you talking about?" Isaac demanded. "Just stop."

"No, I won't stop! Enough is enough! Tell him, Maximilienne. Right now, we're going to straighten this all out!"

Isaac looked at Maxie. "What is she talking about?"

"Jenny, you don't understand," Maxie said, growing impossibly hot under Isaac's stare.

"I understand just fine. I understand that he's about to sign his whole life away to the wrong woman—"

"Not this again," Isaac groaned.

"—all because _you_ won't just admit that—"

"They were engaged before!" Maxie blurted out.

Jenny stopped short. "What?"

"Before he got shot. Before... _everything._ When he was perfectly aware of...of how he felt."

"I'm still aware," he said, but Jenny didn't take her eyes off of Maxie. Her brows were furrowed with pity, the corners of her lips were turned down. At last, she turned to Isaac.

"Is that true? You were engaged to her before you were shot?"

"Yes," he said, then added, "Apparently."

She narrowed her eyes. " _Apparently_?"

"Well, I obviously don't _remember_ ," he said.

"So then how do you know? How do you know she isn't just telling you what she wants you to believe?"

"Van wouldn't lie about something like that," Isaac said.

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I know her!" he insisted. "Right, Max? You know Van better than everyone."

For a moment, Maxie didn't reply. She couldn't. How _did_ they know? After all, there was only Van's word, and Elanna's. _Would_ she lie? It wasn't unlike her to exaggerate, or even to fib. But something like _this_?

"No," Maxie agreed at last. "She wouldn't lie about something like this."

Isaac gave one firm nod. "See? Don't be ridiculous. Van's a good person. She's caring and sweet and she has a big heart—"

"Do you love her?" Jenny asked.

Isaac rolled his eyes. "Just give her a chance, alright?"

"Do you _love_ her?" Jenny repeated.

"She deserves this."

"Yes or no, Isaac! _Do you love her_?"

"Yes!" he finally admitted. "Alright? Of course I love her! I'm marrying her!"

Again, Jenny's eyes found Maxie's. Maxie's lips were pressed tightly together, her head was bowed. "Maximilienne," Jenny said. "You can leave."

Maxie didn't waste another second before she was out of the booth and hurrying for the exit.

Isaac returned to the apartment while Maxie stood before the stove, mixing tomato sauce for spaghetti. She turned to him, frowning guiltily. "I'm _so_ sorry," she said. "I had no idea you hadn't told her."

He nodded, taking a seat at the table. She sat across from him. "I know that. How could you have known?"

"I probably could have guessed."

With that, he grinned. "Yeah. I suppose you could have."

"Is she still upset?" Maxie asked. He opened his mouth to speak but shut it again and peered around. "Van left about an hour ago," Maxie informed him.

He sighed. "I would never hear the end of it if Van knew I kept this from Jenny. It's just that Jenny doesn't..." He stopped, slowly shook his head. "She doesn't _like_ Van. I don't know why, I don't even think _she_ knows why."

Maxie held her breath as he spoke. _She_ knew why Jenny didn't like Van. She knew perfectly well.

"Anyway," he said, "that's not what she was most upset about. Not that I didn't tell her—I don't think anyone was _that_ surprised by that—but that I chose Van."

" _Chose_ her? As opposed to choosing...?"

His eyes met hers. "You. Jenny has this crazy idea that I should be marrying _you_."

She swallowed hard, averted her gaze. "Oh," she finally choked out, getting to her feet. Suddenly, the kitchen felt too small for even just the two of them. "Yeah. That _is_ crazy."

#

THEN

Ohio: Day 1

Isaac and Maxie barely made it out of the city before Isaac was pulling his car over to the side of the road. It was still dark outside; he'd insisted they leave early. Barely awake in the passenger seat, Maxie stirred. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Why are we pulled over?"

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Isaac leaned over and pressed his mouth to hers. She moaned beneath his lips. "That's right," he said, pushing her dress up her thighs. "Moan as loud as you want."

She opened her eyes and pulled back. "Isaac, what are you doing?"

He grinned and tugged at her panties. "Take them off."

"What? _Now_?" He covered her neck with kisses as he continued to pull her panties down her thighs. "Isaac, wait. Not here. We can do it when we get there."

"Look at me," he said, motioning toward the bulge in his pants. "Do I look like I can wait until we get there?" He took her by the waist and pulled her to him. "C'mon, Max, get on top of me."

Her eyes widened. She could barely take him when she was under him, she wasn't sure if she'd be any use on _top_ of him. "There isn't enough space."

He pushed his seat back and opened his arms to her. "C'mon."

"What if someone sees?"

"Leave your dress on."

Still apprehensive, she slowly climbed into his seat, on top of him as instructed. "I'm scared," she admitted. He looked up at her, eyes filled with tenderness and lust and _so_ much love. He smiled and kissed her.

"Don't be scared. I'll never hurt you, Max." Lifting her to position himself, he added, "Feel free to hurt _me_ , though."

Once he was inside of her, Maxie wasn't sure what to do. Now it was up to her, and she was paranoid that someone would drive past and see, and nervous that she wouldn't be any good at it, and frustrated because she didn't have the space to move like she wanted to. But then Isaac's hands went under her dress, over her bare behind, up her back and down again. Softly, slowly, just the way she liked. His lips and tongue assaulted her neck and chest. He gently thrust against her. Before she knew it, her eyes were closed, her head was thrown back in ecstasy, her body seemed to move of its own accord.

He lifted her dress and began pulling it off of her. "I thought you said I can keep it on," she breathed.

"I did say that," he replied as he got it over her head. But she was too far out in his sea of rapture to care about the stupid dress, or any stupid passersby that may have seen her. She moved against him, in sync with his groans of pleasure, with his _yes_ 's and _oh's_ and _that's it'_ s. "You're so beautiful," he said, pulling her face down to his. He kissed her deeply, held her against him and thrust harder, deeper. She groaned in pain and pleasure and discomfort and bliss. He did it again and she tried to pull back, but he wouldn't let her. "Isaac, I can't... _don't_ —" And again. She cried out in anguish and in need. She couldn't _take_ him that way and yet she wanted him even closer, even _deeper_. His eyes were shut tight and his face was buried in her breasts and he held her so impossibly tight. Another forceful thrust, this one so hard she nearly lost her breath. And then he let her go, lifted her a bit, thrust again, softer, slower, and so quickly every ounce of pain was gone, replaced by more pleasure than she could handle.

She held him tightly as she climaxed, he held her even tighter as he did as well. When they were finished, they clung to one another, sweating and breathless. He kissed her shoulder, gently rubbed her back until she felt herself dozing off right there in the driver's seat on top of him, still clinging to him, still as naked as an angel. "Maxie," he whispered.

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

She kissed his neck where her face rested. "Isaac, I love _you_. I love you so much."

Gently, he pushed her back to look at her flushed face. He pushed a piece of hair off her damp forehead, kissed the valley between her breasts. "Can we make a deal?"

"What kind of deal?" she asked.

"As soon as we reach Ohio, none of this exists. Not New York. Not Van. Not Alex. Nothing, okay? Just us. Nothing else exists."

She smiled and kissed him. "Nothing but us."

Jenny's house was small and blue. There was a large porch that had two white chairs and a small wicker table, and the mailbox was a miniature version of the house. Maxie walked slowly up the path to the front door, admiring the perfect lawn and the garden just under the side windows. "This is just like something out of a children's storybook," she said.

"Isn't it?" Isaac agreed.

He took her inside where she peered around the living room. The furniture was outdated but welcoming. Dozens of photos decorated the walls. Plants, big ones, small ones, bright ones, and dull ones occupied every corner. It smelled like the sun and the breeze in spring. Maxie stood in the middle of the room, closed her eyes, and inhaled. "Different from the city, huh?"

"Very," she said. "Where's Jenny, anyway?"

"Florida. Visiting a friend. Come on, look at the kitchen. You're going to love the kitchen."

The kitchen, unlike the living room, had all new appliances. The refrigerator and the cabinets were packed to capacity. Maxie flipped through the rows of cookbooks that aligned the counters. There was a whiteboard on the refrigerator with Jenny's grocery list on it. Her handwriting was small and flowy. Maxie tried to imagine her and Isaac sitting together at the table when he was just a teenager, eating dinner and talking.

"Where's your bedroom?" she asked. "Do you still have a bedroom here?"

"Of course," he replied. "This way."

She followed him down the hallway to the last door on the left. She expected his bedroom to be as plain as his apartment in New York. However, when she stepped inside, she gasped with surprise. There were pictures of old friends and family on the mirror above his dresser. Trophies lined every surface. Newspaper clippings and pictures hung on the walls. There was a chalkboard covered in names and messages to Isaac. Maxie could hardly believe the same person who once lived in that room, so full of life, now lived in the empty apartment in New York City. His soul remained in Ohio, she realized. It was right there in that bedroom.

She leaned close to the mirror to examine the photos. She grabbed one and showed him. "This must be your mother," she said. The woman was leaning next to a small boy, holding him close and smiling widely. "God, you look just like her. She's _gorgeous_."

"Thank you," he said.

She put the picture back and grabbed another. "You and Gnar in high school? Look at how _skinny_ he was." Isaac laughed. "And look at you. I guess you were always this handsome."

"Always."

She chuckled and grabbed another. This one of him standing behind a girl with his hands on her hips. "Who's _this_?" Maxie demanded.

Isaac smiled. "My high school sweetheart. Erica."

She narrowed her eyes. "Erica, huh? When's the last time you heard from Erica?"

"Just yesterday, actually. I told her I was coming to town. We're probably going to grab a bite to eat or something." Maxie's mouth fell open and Isaac laughed loudly. "Cut it out, Max, I haven't seen Erica since I graduated from high school."

She put the pictures back and moved on to all of his medals and trophies. "Look at all of these. First place, second place. First place, first place. You must have been so good." She looked up at him, eyes full. "Nothing lower than second place. Look at you."

He grinned, gazing down at her. "Are you proud of me, Maximilienne?"

Her face flushed red and she looked away. " _No_."

He chuckled and took her by the hand. "C'mon, you haven't seen the best part of this place."

"No?"

He led her out of the backyard and down a path through the woods. After just a few minutes, they reached an opening in the trees where a tiny, isolated lake sat. Maxie gasped. "This is amazing!" she cried, going toward it.

"It's called Lake Isobel. After my mother."

Maxie turned to him. "This is _your_ lake?"

"Jenny's. I mean, it's her property. Sometimes I would bring all my friends out here to swim. Other times, I just enjoyed having the whole thing to myself." Smiling widely, Maxie kicked off her sandals and headed toward the water. "Hey! Where are you going?" he demanded.

"Swimming!" she replied, and with that, she dove into the water. He went to the edge and waited for her to emerge, and when she did, she'd swam all the way out to the middle. "It's so warm!" she called to him. "Come in here, Isaac!"

He smiled, watching her, and shook his head. "No, I'll just wait for you."

She went under again, and when she came up, she was able to stand. "Come swim with me, Isaac." He shook his head again. She pouted and made her way to him, her body surfacing little by little. "Please?" she begged, opening her arms to him.

His eyes absorbed her, devoured her. The tiny dress she wore clung unremittingly to every curve of her; her bare breasts, her tiny waste, her hips and thighs. She stood there, soaking wet, waiting for him.

He was with her in the water before he knew it.

They swam well into the afternoon. They raced, they played Shark and Marco Polo, they splashed and dunked each other, they chased one another back and forth across the lake. Then they got out and made love on the bank, and lay naked under the sun in each other's arms until they were both dry and tanned.

That evening, as Maxie sat down with Isaac to eat dinner, he said, "Today was a good day."

"It was the _best_ day."

"We'll have more days like this."

" _Three_ of them. It's almost too good to be true."

He shook his head. "No, I mean _lots_ more. In the future. Eventually every day will be like this for us. I know it."

"How's that?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I just do. We're going to end up together, Max. Somehow we just _have_ to. We're _supposed_ to."

She smiled. "That sounds like faith talking. I didn't think you believed in higher powers, or fate."

"I don't," he said, looking her straight in the eye. "I believe in _us_."

Day 2:

It was 3 AM and Maxie and Isaac lay in bed, entwined in one another, Isaac saying a French word or phrase, Maxie repeating and then translating it. They'd been at it for hours already. Talking, laughing, practicing. Making love. Laughing more. Practicing more. Both of them were so tired, but neither of them wanted to go to sleep.

Sleep.

What a waste of perfectly good hours. What a waste of perfectly good time. They'd be able to sleep plenty when they got back. But those minutes, those _precious_ minutes, they needed to savor and enjoy. Every single last one of them.

They both jumped at the sudden, high-pitched ring of Isaac's cell phone. Maxie groaned. "Who can it be at this hour? Just leave it." But he picked it up and showed her the screen. With a sigh, she said, "Answer it."

"Isaac!" Van cried into the receiver. Isaac sat up with the urgency in her voice, as did Maxie. She was sobbing loudly, and talking fast. "I just got in the house! On my way home, a man stopped me with a gun! He threw me against the wall and took my purse! He made me give him all my jewelry, and he took my cell phone and _everything_! I was so afraid!"

"Van, calm down," Isaac said. "Are you hurt?"

"No! I'm just scared! I was _mugged_! Nothing like that's ever happened to me in my whole life! He has my ID, you know! He knows where I live, what if he comes back?"

"Relax. He won't come back, okay? Take a hot shower, relax, and get some rest. Don't be scared, he probably only wanted some quick cash, and he got that, right? You're fine now."

His words seemed to sooth her. She calmed down, agreed to take a long shower, and hung up. Isaac sighed and turned to Maxie. "She got mugged."

Maxie gasped. "Oh, my God! Is she alright? Maybe I should call her—"

"No," he said, quickly. "I'm turning off my ringer, and that's the last interruption we're going to have."

"But what if she needs to talk—"

" _Max_. Remember our agreement? She doesn't _exist_ right now. If she needs to talk, she'll have you in three days." He put his arm around her, lowered her to the bed, and kissed her. "Now tell me you love me. In French." She did. "Tell me you want me." She did. "Tell me to take you."

He did.

They rose later that morning, and after breakfast, Isaac took Maxie to the shooting range. "This is the slide," he explained, holding the gun out and showing her its components. "This is the hammer, the clip, the trigger. You release the clip by pushing this. Pull this back, and it spits out the bullet in the chamber. Maxie, are you paying attention?"

"Huh? Yeah, of course."

"Alright, then, where's the safety?"

"Oh. Ah, right there."

"Wrong," he snapped. "I didn't even tell you where the safety is yet. Pay attention, this is important."

She rolled her eyes. "Why, Isaac? I don't need to know how to use a gun. When will I ever need a gun?"

"You never know. Better safe than sorry."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Is this because Van got mugged last night?"

He sighed. "As a matter of fact, it is. I want you to take this with you back to New York, and keep it in the apartment. So you need to know how to use it."

"You're giving _me_ a gun? _Van's_ the one who got mugged. Why don't you give it to her?"

"Because I only have one to give," he replied. "Now pay attention. _This_ is the safety."

He told her how to stand, how to hold it, how to aim and pull the trigger. She was surprised by how much she enjoyed shooting at the paper target. She was even more surprised by how accurate her aim was. "You're not so bad," one of the employees told her. "Pretty good, actually. For an amateur."

"Well, you haven't seen _me_ shoot yet," Isaac said.

"I bet I'm better," Maxie challenged

He looked down at her and chuckled. "You're _not_ better."

She handed him the gun and stepped aside. "Let's see then, muscle man. Go ahead."

He took the gun and shot six rounds. As promised, Maxie was _not_ better. Isaac's shot was _flawless_. "You were right," the employee amended. " _You're_ not so bad."

Maxie and Isaac sat in the living room eating popcorn while they watched videos of some of Isaac's old fights. Maxie's eyes remained wide through each and every one of them. He watched as she held her breath when they started, waiting for someone to throw the first blow, cringed and looked away every time he got hit, leaned toward the screen in anticipation every time he was about to win. This last fight had already left him bloodied and swollen, but now he had the man in an impossible headlock that involved both arms and legs, hands and feet.

"I invented that choke that night," Isaac said with a chuckle, "or so they said. Really, I didn't invent anything. I just _did_ it." Seconds later, the man tapped out. Isaac let him go, got to his feet, and raised his fists high in the air, turning toward the audience's praise.

Maxie watched him with awe-filled eyes and a small smile. He threw a piece of popcorn at her. It landed in her hair. "Look at you," he said laughing. "You're so _proud_ of me, Maximilienne. With that look on your face, I'd think _you_ won the fight."

"Am I not supposed to be proud?"

"Of course you are," he said, throwing another piece of popcorn at her. "My mother used to be proud of me like that."

"Well, I'm proud of you, too. Except _my_ way of showing you will prove to be _very_ different from your mother's." Grinning, she stood, bowl of popcorn in hand, and went to him. He grinned and opened his arms to take her, but instead, he got the entire bowl of popcorn dumped over his head.

Laughing loudly, she spun around and darted from the room and down the hallway, but he had her in just a few easy strides. He picked her up, squealing and fighting, and carried her back to the living room. "Will you teach me how to fight?" she asked.

"Sure. But right now," he said, laying her on the floor, "the only thing I'm going to teach you is how to get tickled to death." And with that, he assaulted her ribs, belly, and thighs with wriggling fingers. She screamed and kicked and laughed until she was sweaty and red and breathless. Finally, Isaac ended the attack.

Still gasping for air, she said, "Okay, I know how to be tickled to death. _Now_ will you teach me how to fight?"

"Teach you how to fight for what? Who will you need to fight? How about you just let me know? _I_ will take care of them."

"What if it's a girl?"

"I'll go easy on her."

She laughed. "Isaac, you're being a hypocrite. You gave me a gun to protect myself today. Why can't I learn to fight?"

Sighing, he conceded. "Fine. I'll teach you a few things."

"Teach me this," she said, wrapping her legs around his waist. "Why do you do that?" Isaac paused. His eyes lit up with a lustful sparkle. "Isaac!" she snapped.

"Alright, alright. This is called the guard position. If you end up on the bottom of the fight, the first thing you want to do is get a person in your guard. It's for control purposes. You want it to be tight and strong," he said, his hand trailing up her bare thigh. She was wearing another one of her sundresses. He was starting to love her sundresses.

"And then what?"

"And then you take these off," he said thickly, tugging at her panties.

"Isaac!"

He covered her mouth with his own, then her neck, her shoulders, her chest. He was unstoppable. Maxie practically melted under his hands. "You're supposed to teach me how to fight," she moaned.

"You would rather fight me then make love to me?" he asked.

"Yes," she purred, throwing her head back.

Isaac chuckled. "We'll just see about that."

They sat on a blanket by the lake while the sun set. Maxie lay back with a book, her foot in Isaac's hands as he doodled on it with a black marker. "Look," he said. "I wrote my name." She sat up and examined his work. A letter of his name was on each of her toes. She laughed. "I think you should get it tattooed," he said. "Just like this."

She grinned and averted her eyes with a shrug. "That would be nice. Matching tattoos," she said bashfully. "Maybe not names, but something to represent the other."

He thought about it a moment. "His and hers tattoos, huh?"

She took the marker from him and lifted up his shirt. She scribbled the words _Hers_ across his chest. "Right over your heart," she said, and quietly added, "Because that belongs to me."

He examined it a moment and nodded, then took the marker and pinned her to the grass. He pushed her dress up and right below her panty line, scribbled the word _His_. "Because...well, you get it," he said with a smirk.

She laughed and playfully swatted him. He jumped on top of her and her legs immediately went around his waist. "I have you in my guard!" she cried excitedly. "Now what do I do?"

"Didn't we already go over the next step?" he asked, pulling at her panties again.

" _Isaac_ ," she groaned. "I'm never going to learn if you keep getting distracted before we get any farther than my guard."

"Well, I have news for you," he said, tossing her dress off to the side. "You're probably never going to learn."

They made love there on the blanket, then swam in the dark and made love again. Afterwards, they curled up on the blanket, in each other. "Max," Isaac whispered, trailing his fingers up and down her bare thigh.

"Hmm?"

"You don't have my heart, you know." He kissed the back of her neck. "You don't have it, Max, you _are_ it."

"I love you, Isaac."

He sighed. "Tell me again."

"I love you, Isaac."

Day 3:

Maxie woke to Isaac lying beside her, watching her. She rolled over and pulled her blanket up to her eyes. "What are you looking at?" she asked, her face flushing red.

"You," he said. "What are you dreaming about when you say my name in your sleep?"

Her eyes widened. "I don't say your name!"

"Yes, you do. You say it all the time. Sometimes it wakes me up. I think you need me."

She sighed as her head fell back on the pillow and her eyes fluttered shut. "I do need you."

At breakfast, they both sat in silence. Maybe because neither of them really had anything to say. Or maybe because they knew that it was their last day. Their last day in the place where no one but them existed.

Maxie couldn't even eat. She simply had no appetite. She pushed her eggs back and forth across her plate and nibbled at her bacon until she couldn't even stand to sit still anymore. Finally, she excused herself.

Isaac found her in his bedroom a little while later, flipping through an old photo album. He sat beside her and pulled it from her hands. She looked away from him. "Max," he said, his voice low and solemn.

"Yes?"

"It's our last day here. Is this how you want it to be?"

She sighed. "What are you talking about? The day's been going fine."

"You haven't even looked at me since breakfast."

She raised her eyes to his face, his impossibly handsome face. After only seconds, she looked away again. He lifted her onto his lap, cradled her like a small child and kissed her. "Don't look away from me," he said. "Not while we don't have to hide. You look away from me enough at home. Don't look away from me now, Maximilienne."

Tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them away. "We have to go back tomorrow," she choked out. "How am I supposed to..." She bit down on her bottom lip, took a deep breath. "We shouldn't have come here this weekend. We were just teasing ourselves. _Torturing_ ourselves."

"This weekend was anything but torture."

"But think of how it will be when we get back."

He kissed her again, held her tighter. "We'll figure something out. Remember what I said? We're going to be together, we _have_ to." He moved her off of him and reached into his pocket. "Let me show you something," he said, pulling out a small box. He opened it and Maxie gasped.

Sitting in the velvet pillow, was a ring. Small, gold, with a tiny diamond that caught the sunrays and sparkled. "I know it isn't very impressive, but it was my mother's," he said. "Her engagement ring. I want you to wear it."

She stared down at the beautiful piece of jewelry before her and it was all she could do not to cry. Instead, she shook her head, shut the box, and pushed it back to him. "No, I can't take it."

"Yes, you can," he said.

"Isaac, no—"

"Maxie, _yes_. Take it, it's yours." He plucked the ring from the box, took Maxie's resisting hand, and stuck it on her finger. She stared at it. It fit perfectly, as if it always belonged there.

"And what are you going to give Van?" she asked faintly. "When you marry _her_?"

She thought he would snap back at her, but instead he smiled warmly. "Don't be stupid, Maximilienne. You're the one who wants to make Van happy, not me. I would never marry her." He pulled her to him again. "You know, maybe I _do_ have some faith. In higher powers or destiny or _whatever_. Maybe God, or whoever is up there, deals us some shitty hands sometimes. Like the one we're playing with now. But if you look at the bigger picture, it isn't so bad. Because I have you. And you have me."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her. "But that's the thing," she moaned. "I _don't_ have you."

"Yes, you do," he said, kissing her jawline. "You've always had me."

She looked down at the ring. "You want to marry me one day?"

"I'm _going_ to marry you one day."

"It's nice to hope, isn't it?"

"Ah," he replied. "Now where's _your_ faith?"

That evening, they spread their blanket out at the lake and laid down. "I have something to show you," Maxie said. She sat up and pulled a freshly rolled joint from her pocket.

Isaac sat up, too. "You're joking."

"Do you know what today is?" she asked.

"Sunday," he replied.

She nodded. "Yep. And my mother's forty-fifth birthday. She always said forty-five was a big deal because it's halfway to death."

"I thought forty was halfway to death."

"The women on my mom's side of the family tend to live a little longer. Not her, though. She didn't even make the halfway mark." For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Maxie raised the joint to her lips. "I always have a smoke for her birthday."

Isaac watched as she lit the skinny white stick and inhaled deeply. Her eyes drifted shut and she raised her head toward the sky as thick, grey smoke came billowing out of her mouth. The smell quickly surrounded them but Maxie didn't seem to notice. If anything, she was enjoying it.

"She always told me to never fall in love with anyone who wasn't worth loving," she said.

"Am I worth loving, Maximilienne?"

She shrugged. "How am I supposed to know?" Opening her eyes, she turned and extended the joint to Isaac. He chuckled.

"No, thanks."

"C'mon, don't be a square."

"Are you peer pressuring me?"

"Absolutely," she replied. "Just one puff."

He shook his head but when she didn't pull her hand back, he sighed and conceded. With another chuckle, he said, "Just inhale?"

"As if you're breathing."

He did as she instructed, and his chest rose with his deep breath. It burned his throat on the way down, filled his lungs, and then ejected itself in a fit of coughing and hacking. Maxie laughed. "A little less next time? Maybe?" But Isaac could barely respond. The only thing he could get out were violent coughs.

Maxie smoked a little more while Isaac cleared his throat. By the time she passed it back, she could already feel her mind wandering. Isaac took it from her, apprehensively, and tried again. This time he coughed less, and when he tried again, he barely coughed at all. Together, they finished off the whole joint, then lay side by side on the blanket and stared up at the sky. "I feel like I'm spinning," Isaac said.

Maxie giggled and took his hand. "Close your eyes."

He did so, and a second later he opened them again. "I'm dizzy, Max. I'm _literally_ dizzy."

"You're just high."

"Is this what it's like every time?"

"Almost."

"Wow." She turned over to her side to look at him. She felt like an ameba lying next to his large body. She liked that. "I like it, too," he replied. Had she said it aloud?

"Isaac," Maxie said. "If you could live in a perfect world, what would it be like?"

"Hmm," he contemplated. A perfect world? Perfect how? he wondered. Perfect like never getting stuck at a red light? Always having exact change? Getting home and turning on the television _just_ in time to catch your favorite show?

He hadn't watched television in a while. Did he even _have_ a favorite show?

Van liked reality TV. That trash.

What if he had to go on reality TV? He'd probably get kicked off whatever show it was the first day. He wouldn't hesitate to punch one of those assholes in the face.

Sometimes he wanted to punch Drew in the face. Drew was an asshole.

" _Isaac._ "

"Huh?"

She giggled. "Still here?"

He shut his eyes. No, he wasn't there. He was _everywhere_. Or at least his thoughts were. He couldn't focus. "My perfect world, Max? I don't know. My perfect world would be a world where you and I could be together like this every day. What about you? As a matter of fact, I already _know_ what your perfect world would consist of."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," he said. "Van would be there. I'm not sure why, but she would. You would live on the roof where you can lay in the sun during the day and look up at the stars at night. Am I right? And you wouldn't dance," he said. "You wouldn't dance for anyone except your mother. Oh, yeah, your mother would be there, too. And you would only dance for her. But you would cook all the time, for everyone. And the whole world would love everything you thought up. And when you weren't cooking, you would be reading. Right? How am I doing?"

"You're doing great. Except you forgot two things."

"What?"

"Well, _you_ would be in my perfect world obviously."

"And...?"

"And whenever we closed our eyes, we would be back here, making love on this blanket."

Isaac gazed at her. "You don't have to close your eyes right now, Max. We're here," he said.

She nodded. "I know. But _this_ world is far from perfect."

Isaac was on top of her, kissing her, licking her, caressing every inch of her with his hands and his lips. When he lifted her dress, she stopped him. "Wait," she said.

"What?" he asked, almost breathlessly. He didn't think he'd ever wanted anything so badly.

"When you're high, there's one thing that's better than sex."

He pulled back to look at her skeptically. "Better than sex?" She nodded. "And what could that be?"

With a wide smile, she replied, "Food."

And so she cooked. And she baked. And she cooked some more until the kitchen table was covered in food and desserts and small treats and munchies. Isaac's eyes bulged as he stared at it all in awe, his mouth watering. Again, he didn't think he'd ever wanted anything so badly.

Going to him with a plate, Maxie said, "Dig in."

They ate and smoked again and watched comedies and ate some more. And then they made love, which Isaac thought was absolutely as good as all of the food. Afterwards, they lay on the living room floor, staring up at the ceiling. Again, neither of them spoke a word. They had less than twelve hours left.

"Maxie," Isaac said at last. His voice was low and firm, and she knew immediately what was coming next. "Why are we doing this? Why don't we just tell Van the truth?"

She shook her head, almost as if trying to steady her spinning thoughts so she could focus on the inevitable discussion. "We can't."

" _You_ can't. I very well can."

"Isaac—"

"Am I honestly supposed to just _be_ with her? Am I supposed to pretend I'm happy with her forever?"

Sighing, she moved to get up but he held her in place. "Please," she said.

With a frustrated huff, he let her go. She collected their dishes to bring to the kitchen. Isaac followed her. "I don't understand you," he said.

"I just want everyone to be happy," she said, not looking at him. She busied herself cleaning.

"Really? Because _I'm_ not happy. Are _you_ happy?" She didn't reply and he grabbed her, spinning her around to face him. "Are you happy, Max? Sharing me with your best friend? Hiding your feelings for me while she gets to flaunt hers proudly? She tells me she loves me, like, every three minutes now. Did you know that?" She knew.

He grabbed her hand and turned over her arm to reveal her wrist. She'd gotten another tattoo just the week before. It read _Remember_. Remember to be happy. That was the last thing her mother had said to her. "What's the point of this tattoo? You're not happy. Not unless you're with me."

"I'm with you _now_ ," she said.

"And what about tomorrow?" Again, she said nothing. Sighing, he dropped her wrist. "Right. Van is happy. That's all that matters."

Shaking his head, he turned away from her. "Isaac," she said, hurrying after him, but he wouldn't look at her. "Please don't be upset with me."

"I'm not upset with you. I'm disappointed in you."

"That's worse," she moaned.

He spun around and stopped short. She bumped right into him and stumbled back, but he caught her by the shoulders and steadied her. "Then do something about it, Max. _Fight_ for me."

She placed her open palms on his chest and looked up at him with big, sad eyes. He had to look away. He had no resolve when she looked at him that way. "Isaac, please," she said. "This is our last night together. This isn't how we want to spend it, remember?"

She was right. And still, just looking at her big eyes, her soft cheeks, her full lips made him angry and frustrated and painfully happy.

The car ride home was silent. What was there to say? They got to live for a short weekend, but now it was time to get back to reality. Get back to Van, and sneaking, and pretending.

_No_ , Maxie told herself. It was over now. They had their last weekend, but now it was over.

When they arrived at the apartment, Maxie couldn't even raise her eyes to the man she previously hadn't been able to look away from. Not that he noticed, since he couldn't look at her, either. They rode on separate sides of the elevator up to the door, said nothing as Maxie unlocked it, and then they went in.

Van was sitting on the couch when they entered. She immediately threw down her magazine and jumped to her feet. "You're home!" she squealed, rushing to Isaac. Maxie kept her gaze averted as Van kissed his face. Kissed it and kissed it.

_He hasn't just risen from the dead_ , Maxie thought bitterly. _He was only gone a weekend_. But she remembered how happy _she_ had been when he'd come back from Van's birthday weekend in Atlantic City the prior year. She remembered how _hard_ it'd been not to kiss him the same way Van was kissing him. The man was just about impossible to resist. How could she blame her friend?

She didn't stick around and wait for Van to come up for air. Without even a greeting, she took her belongings to her bedroom and shut the door tightly behind her. Moments later, it opened again and Van entered. She nearly tackled Maxie to the bed and covered _her_ in kisses this time. "I missed you two so _much_!" she gushed. "How was it? Really boring? What was the hotel like? Did you explore at all? I mean, what's _in_ Ohio? Besides potatoes?"

"Van," Maxie said, gently pushing her friend off of her. " _Idaho_ has potatoes."

Laughing loudly, Van waved a careless hand. "Whatever. How was it anyway?"

Maxie shrugged. "It was alright." _It was amazing_. "I didn't do much." _Except laugh and play and cook and swim and make love._ "Isaac was gone most of the time." _He never left my side. His hands were on me every minute of every day. His hands and his lips._

"And the hotel?"

To think, Van had no idea the tiny house on the quaint street in Ohio existed. She had no idea that Isaac's whole heart was there, patiently waiting for his short returns.

Maxie shrugged. "The hotel was alright. Nothing fancy."

"Were your rooms close together?"

"Fairly."

Van rolled her eyes and shook her head. "You'll never guess what my mother said."

"I could probably guess."

"She said I was stupid for letting _you_ go away with _my_ boyfriend for the weekend. As if you guys were going to be up to something. I told her, 'Ma, it's _Maxie_.' You did me a favor, actually. To tell you the truth, I didn't even _want_ to go. For starters, who the hell wants to sit in the car for hours? And secondly, what is in _Ohio_?"

Utopia.

#

NOW

Maxie was leaning over the large poster board with a handful of red tacks when Bea pushed the door of the apartment open and strolled inside. She stopped just before Maxie, who sat cross-legged on the floor, and frowned. "Please tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing," Bea said.

"I'm making the seating chart for the wedding," said Maxie.

Groaning, Bea plopped down on the sofa. "Why, Maxie, _why_?" Bea demanded. "Van insisted. I told her she doesn't need one, there won't even be that many people there, but you know how she is."

"Forget the stupid seating arrangement," Bea said. "Why are you doing any of it? It's Isaac's wedding for Christ sake. You're planning Isaac's _wedding_."

Without looking up, Maxie shrugged. "It's Van's wedding, too. And she's my best friend. Anyway, it could be worse. I could be out with her and Elanna right now, picking out lingerie for the honeymoon." She grimaced at the thought.

Plopping down in front of her, Bea said, "Or you could do _neither_. You could tell her to hire a fucking wedding planner, like a normal person! But, of course, why the hell would she do that when she has you answering her every beck and call?"

Maxie rolled her eyes but said nothing. She knew there was no point in arguing with Bea. Especially when Bea was _right_. And still, Maxie continued to pin the tiny name tags to the board.

"You've spent the last six months lashing out in every other way," said Bea.

"I haven't _lashed_ _out_ ," Maxie objected.

"But when it comes to Van, what _Van_ wants and what _Van_ needs, you're still as obedient as ever."

"Obedient, Bea? Or loyal?"

Bea exhaled deeply. Her brows furrowed, she slowly shook her head. "Is that what this is? You think planning this wedding will make up for...for everything? You don't _owe_ her, Max. If anything, she owes you. You're letting her have him, aren't you? Isn't that enough?"

Maxie threw back her head and a shrill, humorless laugh emerged from her throat. "I'm not _letting_ her have anything. He wants her!" she said, but she didn't bother telling about Isaac's admission to Jenny only a week prior. She didn't bother saying that she'd already cried all the tears that she would for it.

Frowning deeply, Bea asked, "How is this not killing you?"

Finally, Maxie set down the tacks and looked at her friend. "Who says it isn't?"

With a small nod, Bea said, "Let's go out tonight. Let's go dancing. My friend bounces at a club downtown. We can get in free."

With a chuckle, Maxie picked up the pins again. "I don't go clubbing, Bea."

"Maybe the _old_ Maxie didn't, but the new Maxie might like it."

She shook her head. "There's no new Maxie."

"Yes, there is, and you seem to be the only one who doesn't realize it. C'mon," she insisted. "Let's have some fun tonight. When's the last time you danced?"

Maxie thought about it for a moment. She couldn't _remember_. She spent so much time working, avoiding Van and Isaac, distracting herself from thoughts of Gnar, that she hadn't let movement carry her away in months. "You're right," she told Bea. "You're completely right. Let's go dancing."

A wide smile unfolded on Bea's lips and she clapped. "Great! I'll run home and change. Meet me at my place around ten?"

Maxie nodded and, pushing the poster board under the couch, said, "I'll be there."

When Bea opened her front door, her eyes widened at the sight of Elanna and Van standing behind a frowning Maxie. "What's this?" she demanded, not bothering to hide her disdain.

"We're coming, too," Van said brightly, stepping past Maxie and Bea into the apartment. Elanna followed.

Bea's jaw tightened and she glared at Maxie. With an apologetic shrug, Maxie stepped past her into the apartment, too. "I ran into them on my way out," she explained quietly.

"Isaac is going to meet us there once he's finished at the gym," Van said, jabbing at the screen of her phone. "He just has to run home and shower."

"He's coming alone?" Elanna asked.

"No. Gnar's coming, too." Van smiled at Maxie when she said it, but it was Elanna's eyes that illuminated at the news.

"Not for _you_ ," Bea snapped at her.

Elanna grinned. "Of course not. He isn't into model types, right, Van?"

Van shrugged. "I don't know. I've only ever seen him with Maxie."

Maxie let out an exasperated sigh. The night hadn't even begun and she already wanted it to end. Of course, Bea didn't miss a beat. "Yeah, I don't think models are his thing. Not that I can blame him. I'd take a girl I could bend like a pretzel over a stick-figure any day."

"Bea!" Van cried.

"You have no idea _how_ I can bend," Elanna replied, not the least bit ruffled.

" _Elanna_!" Van cried.

"Well, let's see," Bea said, motioning toward the middle of the floor with a smirk.

Elanna rolled her eyes. "Obviously my shorts are too tight."

"How about yours, Max? Are yours too tight?"

Grinning, Maxie lifted her leg up effortlessly toward the ceiling. "I guess not," she replied.

Elanna's grin never faded, though her eyes darkened with contempt. Van got to her feet. "Jesus, Maxie. What the _fuck_." Without waiting for a reply, she stalked off.

Lowering her foot back down to the floor, Maxie scowled at Bea. "You got me in trouble."

"I'll be sure to let Gnar know you've been a bad girl," Bea said to Maxie, though she was still glaring at Elanna.

Following Van to the kitchen, Maxie said, "I'm sorry. I know she's your friend, but I just..." _Hate her_. "I'll be nicer to her."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Van said, "Every day you're turning more and more into someone I don't know."

"It was a joke, Van."

"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about everything. Even the way you're dressed! Seriously, when did you start wearing see-through shirts?"

"Aren't _you_ the one that's always telling me to loosen up? Laugh a little, live a little. 'We're adults, we're allowed to show a little skin,'" Maxie quoted her. "Remember?"

"I do remember. What I _don't_ remember is you actually listening."

Maxie shrugged. "Now I am. And I'm happier than ever. I don't feel like I'm hiding behind anything. Or anyone." _Or you_.

Maybe that was the problem.

Lowering her voice, Van said, "You're changing. And over what? Some _guy_?"

"Excuse me?"

"We get hurt sometimes, Max—"

"This isn't about any guy—"

"—But you can't just fall apart."

"I'm not falling apart! I'm more put together than I've been in years! For once I'm not trying to make everyone else happy! I'm not trying to get anyone to love me!" _Not even Isaac._ "I'm not trying to live up to anyone's expectations!" _Not even Kathy's._

"It's a good thing," Van hissed, "because you're falling _way_ below mine."

Maxie chuckled. "I guess it's a good thing I've changed so much, or else that may have hurt my feelings."

With a scoff, Van said, "So you're saying you don't care what I think of you anymore? Well, maybe you should, because I'm all you have—"

"Whoa!" Bea interjected sharply. "How about we all calm down?"

Shaking her head, Maxie turned away from Van. "Let's just go," she said, but she didn't wait for anyone as she grabbed her purse and walked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

A moment later Bea joined her in the hall and grinned. "See?" she whispered, nudging her. "New Maxie."

The line to _Besos_ nightclub trailed all the way down the narrow alley and around the corner, but Bea walked Maxie, Van, and Elanna right past it and into the building. "I dated the bouncer," she explained as they made their way down a dark hall. "Turns out he was also dating two other girls, so he owes me."

"Convenient," Van grumbled.

But Maxie didn't acknowledge her. She could hear the thud of the music pulsating through the walls. The hairs on the back of her neck stood in anticipation. She couldn't remember the last time she'd danced for fun, not for practice, not for a show, not for anyone's entertainment. Simply for the pure enjoyment of it.

When they reached the door at the end of the hall, Bea turned to Maxie and beamed. "Welcome to wonderland," she said, and pushed it open.

The room was large and packed to capacity with bodies, all pressed against each other, moving to the booming sound of the music blaring from all of the oversized speakers. Streaks of colorful lights slashed through the darkness and danced over the crowd and against the walls. Cages set up in the corners housed half-naked girls grinding seductively against the bars. A long bar curved around the room and more half-naked girls along with edgy-looking guys stood behind, flipping glasses and twirling liquor bottles around their fingers. Maxie peered around the place in awe.

"I haven't been inside of a real night club since I was nineteen," said Elanna.

"Well no one's keeping you here," Bea told her. Taking Maxie's hand, she said, "C'mon! Let's dance!"

They weaved their way through the thick of the crowd to the middle of the dance floor where Maxie let her eyes drift shut. She raised her hands above her head, bounced up and down, swayed back forth, the music vibrating through her limbs like it only ever had while she'd been on a stage. Except now there was no pressure. No getting it right, no messing up.

Before she knew it, she was sweating and breathless, but she didn't stop moving. She danced with everyone around her, Bea, strangers, men and women alike. She could feel her hair falling out of its bun and down onto her forehead, her cheeks, her neck. Finally, she pulled it from its rubber band and shook it free.

She spun around and thrust the rubber band—like an act of liberation—toward Bea, only to find it wasn't Bea standing there at all. "Maxie?" the tall, slim man standing before her cried. "Maxie, is that you?"

She recognized Avery Thompson right away. They'd been partnered almost exclusively in all the years they'd spent dancing together at NYSPA. It was their chemistry that people admired. Their chemistry and their synchronicity, as if his body had been just an extension of hers.

A storm tide of excitement flooded through her and she flung herself into his open arms. He laughed. "Are you drunk?"

"I'm completely sober!" she admitted, though the nightclub atmosphere and her exhilaration were almost intoxicating.

"Dance with me!" he yelled over the music, already pulling her against him. "For old times' sake!"

There was no one she preferred dancing with more. She pressed herself to him and together they moved in complete harmony, as always. He followed her perfectly, led seamlessly, as skilled casually as he was professionally. As the music changed, the floor cleared a bit, but they didn't stop dancing. Not until they were both panting and leaning on one another to simply stay upright.

Finally, Avery paused. "I need some water," he said. "And a cigarette."

"I'll join you," said Maxie, lacing her arm through his. As they navigated their way to the exit, Maxie searched the realm of faces for a familiar one.

The first one she spotted was Gnar's.

He stood by the bar, a drink in his hand, the cup at his lips, though he wasn't drinking. His eyes were planted firmly on Maxie. Maxie and Avery both. Lowering her gaze, she followed Avery out into cool embrace of the night.

Maxie pressed the end of her cigarette to Avery's and inhaled deeply as it lit. "So," he said, exhaling a long, grey stream of smoke. "How are you? It's been a while."

She nodded. "I know. I hear you're teaching now."

"Yep. Ages three to six." He chuckled. "Impressive, huh?"

Maxie shrugged. "I'm a waitress, so I'd say so."

"I thought Markus Ramsey had been after you," he said. "I heard you were one of the three dancers in our entire class that he wanted."

Lowering her gaze, she said, "Yeah. I turned him down."

Avery's mouth fell agape. "Get out of here. Why the hell would you do that?"

"I don't know. I just decided to go in another direction after I graduated." He opened his mouth to say something, probably ask her _what_ direction led her away from an opportunity like dancing with Markus Ramsey, one of the top choreographers in the entire city, but she quickly interjected. "But that's a long story," she said. "How about you? What have you been up to?"

"Teaching mostly," he said. "It's no Markus Ramsey but I actually like it a lot."

"I bet," Maxie replied.

"But you know," he said, "I'm starting a new gig soon. Something pretty legit, if you're interested in coming on board."

"What is it?" Maxie asked, though she already knew she wasn't interested.

"Have you heard of the play _The Good Girls_?"

"No," Maxie admitted.

"Well, it's being turned into a musical production. On Broadway." He smiled and modestly lowered his eyes. "The director asked me to choreograph it. I start next month."

"Wow!" Maxie cried. "Avery, that's amazing. A Broadway show! Your name will be everywhere after that!"

He shrugged. "I don't want to get too ahead of myself, I haven't even started yet. I am feeling pretty good about it, though. And they're looking to hire a second set of hands, Max. Obviously someone I suggest would get priority over someone from off the street. I could give them your name if you're interested. I don't know, maybe it's more than a coincidence that I ran into you tonight."

With a polite smile, Maxie said, "Wow, I'm flattered you would even ask me. I couldn't, though. Broadway? I think that's a little out of my league."

"I don't think so," said Avery. "Let's not forget the piece from the last show. People are _still_ talking about it."

She shook her head. "Thanks anyway, Avery. I'm sure the show is going to turn out great."

He smiled, eyeing her as she ran her fingers through her wild mane. Her curls reached in every direction. "It's good seeing, Max. Really."

"You, too. You know," she said. "I had a crush on you senior year."

He raised an eyebrow. "No way."

Shaking her head, she said, "A _big_ one. I think it was your tattoos," she said, motioning toward the elaborate art on his arms. She'd always admired him for his tattoos. While all of their instructors had begged him to stop before the fate of his career was sealed, he'd just kept showing up with new ones. Now he was on his way to choreograph a show on Broadway. Maxie only wished she could introduce him to Kathy.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"Because. You were dating Sarah Lakely."

Avery threw his head back and laughed. "I wouldn't call what I was doing with Sarah Lakely _dating_. That girl was _naughty_."

Maxie frowned. "Well, that's why." That had been why in the beginning, anyway. And then she'd met Isaac, and she'd never thought of Avery in that way again.

"Sarah was more my speed anyway, Max. I don't think I would have been right for you back then. You were probably a virgin."

She scoffed. "I was." Again, Isaac's image appeared in her mind. Isaac, in his bedroom. In his bed. Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head.

"What about your friend?" he asked. "The red-head."

"Bea?" Maxie grinned. "Are you asking me if _Bea's_ a virgin?"

"No. I'm just asking about her in general. Is she single? She's beautiful," he said, lowering his eyes. He flicked his cigarette. "Like, seriously beautiful."

"She's single," said Maxie.

He smiled. "No kidding. Her tattoos are so sexy."

"She's an artist. She's done all of mine."

His eyes bulged. "I think I'm in love," he said.

"Jesus, Max, who _isn't_ in love with you?" came a voice from behind them. It was Bea.

"Not with _her_ ," Avery shot back, almost aghast.

"Don't sound so offended," Maxie mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

Avery went to Bea and offered her his hand. "I don't think we've been formally introduced. My name is Avery."

"Nice to meet you, Avery. I'm Bea."

He nodded. "I know. Will you save me a dance, Bea?"

Raising an eyebrow, Bea shot a questioning glance over his shoulder at Maxie. Maxie nodded her approval. After another moment of sizing him up, Bea pulled her hand away. "We'll see," she replied. With that, she turned and went back inside.

As soon as they got back into the club, Avery led Bea to the dance floor. Isaac stood with a drink in his hand, not moving but gazing intently at Van as she moved against him.

Gnar and Elanna were certainly moving. She pressed every part of herself to him, clutching his shirt in her fist as she grinded seductively against him. And he seemed to be enjoying every second of it, his hand resting comfortably on her behind. Maxie could feel the heat of anger flush through her at the sight of them. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to look away and turned to the dance floor. She could feel the heat emanating off of the throng of bodies as she drew closer, and stopped.

Spinning around, she went back to where Gnar and Elanna stood dancing.

"Excuse me," she said tapping her. "Can I cut in?"

Elanna scoffed and kept dancing, but Gnar's attention had turned to Maxie. "Just a minute," he told Elanna, unlacing her arms from his neck. He took Maxie's hand and pulled her to him, and it was all she could do not to shoot a victorious smirk in Elanna's direction.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your fun but Elanna would have gotten pregnant if I'd waited another second. I figured I'd save you from eighteen years of misery. I imagine that's what having a child with someone like her would be."

Gnar laughed. "Are you jealous, Maxie?"

She recoiled. " _Jealous_? Jealous of what? Of _her_?"

"Of her with me," he said, the sideways grin never leaving his lips.

Maxie chuckled. "Like I said, I was doing you a favor."

"You're cute when you're jealous," he said, lightly pinching her chin. She wondered if he could see her face redden under the flashing lights of the club.

"I'm not jealous," she insisted.

"It's okay," he assured, pulling her even closer to him. The smell of his cologne invaded her nostrils and she shifted against the pull in the pit of her stomach. "I was jealous, too," he said.

"You don't need to be jealous of Avery," she said. "He's an old friend, that's all."

"And you don't need to be jealous of Elanna."

She smirked. "I'm _not_."

"Whatever you say," he replied, wrapping his arms around her waist as the music slowed. "Just dance with me, ballerina."

By the end of the night, Elanna had consumed a few too many rum and cokes and stumbled out of the club, holding tightly to Van's hand. "One more drink, Sav?" she asked. "I know a really good bar just a few blocks up."

"You can barely walk already," Van said. "Let's just get you home."

"Oh, c'mon," Elanna insisted, tugging at Van's arm. "Don't be a party pooper. I remember when you used to drink 'til you couldn't _stand_."

"Oh?" said Isaac from behind them.

Van only frowned. "Not tonight. Maybe next weekend."

"Ugh," Elanna huffed, breaking away from Van. She spun around to face Isaac and Gnar. "Don't you guys want to get another drink somewhere?"

"Actually, I'm pretty exhausted," said Isaac.

"Daniel?" Elanna said.

He looked at Maxie whose jaw was clenched. "I don't think so, Elanna. I think Van's right, anyway. You may have had enough to drink for one night."

Swaying on her platform heals, she smiled sweetly. "Well, at least walk me home?" she said. "I don't live far from here and I hate walking alone at night. I'm afraid I'll get mugged or something."

"I got mugged once!" Van piped up. Maxie remembered Van getting mugged. She'd been afraid to walk home alone for a month. Every night, Isaac had to pick her up from work at five and six in the morning. He hadn't minded that, though, as much as he minded having to cut his time with Maxie short, even by just a few minutes. "It was _so_ traumatic for me. Isaac was away in Ohio at the time. I was walking home from the bar and this guy jumped out of _nowhere_ with a gun and took my purse."

"Wow," Gnar said. "That's pretty scary. Did he hurt you?"

"No, but I was still _hysterical_. I called Isaac as soon as I got in—an hour later, mind you, because I had to call a locksmith—and he sat on the phone with me for _hours_ until I calmed down."

Maxie frowned. That call had lasted minutes, not hours. Squeezing Isaac's hand, Van said, "You were the best, babe. I was afraid that with my address and my keys, he would come back for me. I couldn't even sleep. But you sat on the phone until the sun was up."

"I wish I could remember," he replied.

With a sigh, Van said, "Me, too."

_Me three,_ Maxie thought. She was lying. Van was _lying_. Blatantly. Suddenly, Jenny's words echoed in her mind. _How do you know she isn't just telling you what she wants you to believe?_

No, Maxie thought. _Still_ no.

"So you'll walk me?" Elanna asked Gnar, seizing Maxie's attention again.

Maxie could hear Bea, who fell behind as she conversed with Avery, curse behind her. "I'm parked right around the corner," said Gnar as they made their way down the alley. "We can drive."

"Shotgun!" Elanna cried with a giggle. As if on cue, the deafening explosion of gunshots rang out.

"Oh, my God!" Bea cried from behind her.

Van and Elanna shrieked.

Gnar yelled, "Everybody get down!"

Maxie froze.

Her muscles stiffened under her skin. Her heart lodged itself in her throat. Everything, everyone, suddenly seemed far away. There in the alley, in the darkness of the early morning, she could see nothing but her bedroom, Isaac's motionless body, the large pool of blood growing wider by the second.

The doors of the nightclub just behind them burst open and a crowd of panicked, screaming patrons came pouring out onto the narrow street. Another shot sounded from inside the building. A side door opened and more people came barreling into the night.

"Against the wall!" she heard Isaac yell as the terrified mob stampeded down the sidewalk toward them, but she was already pinned there, the familiar shape of Gnar's large frame pressed firmly against her.

Police sirens shrieked in the distance as the mass of people frantically rushed through alley. Frenzied voices, screams, cries filled the tiny space. Maxie could feel the force of bodies being thrown against her and Gnar. A young girl screeched in pain as she fell to the floor, just beside Maxie. Maxie reached for her hand, but the girl only curled up into a ball to protect her face from the storm of incoming boots and sneakers and high heels.

It felt like hours before the mayhem began to subside, before the sound of panicked shouts died out, before anyone could move without the danger of being trampled. But even still, Maxie kept her back against the wall, her eyes squeezed shut. It wasn't until she felt the weight of Gnar lift off of her did she dare to open her eyes.

The first person she saw was Van.

Her friend was kneeling down beside her, knees to her chest, arms still wrapped around herself. Her dress was hiked up, her hair was unkempt, and she stared up at Maxie with her brows furrowed and her mouth hanging slightly agape. "Van," Maxie said.

"Isaac," Van said, her eyes on Gnar. Maxie turned to him and inhaled sharply.

Standing there, still hovering protectively over her, was Isaac.

Gnar stood on the other side of the alley, his eyes also on Maxie, his jaw taut. "Van," Isaac said, hurrying to her side. He helped her to her feet, took her cheeks in his hands. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

"N-no," she stammered. "I'm...I don't think so, I just..." She paused and looked at Maxie again. "Are _you_ okay?"

"I'm alright."

She nodded. "Okay, then." Stepping out of Isaac's embrace, she added with an acidic glare, "I guess that's what matters."

"Van—"

"Let's just go. I'm tired." She turned and continued down the alley to Gnar's car, Elanna on her heels. Gnar's eyes remained glued on her for a moment longer before he moved on as well. But Maxie and Isaac didn't move.

"We should go," she said, at last. "Let's not make it worse."

She started to walk away but he stopped her. "Wait. I'm sorry. I didn't..." He shook his head. "I wasn't thinking."

"She's never going to forget this."

He nodded once. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"You should go catch up to her."

"But are you _alright_ , Maximilienne?"

His eyes swallowed her as he awaited an answer, but her mouth had gone completely dry beneath his gaze. The familiar ache of her insides liquefying silenced her. When he looked at her that way, spoke to her that way, as if she still belonged to him, as if she was the only thing that mattered, her fight against her own emotions seemed like a futile one.

She would lose. When it came to Isaac, she would always lose.

At last, she nodded. "Yes. I'm fine."

Their gazes remained locked for but a moment longer before he turned to hurry and catch up with Van.

#

THEN

"Thank you for meeting me today," Maxie told Isaac from behind the door of the narrow fitting room she was in. He'd come all the way from the gym just to help her choose between two graduation dresses. "Van had some type of fitting for a fashion show."

"You don't have to thank me," he said. "I'll use any excuse I can to sneak away with you for a while."

Though they weren't technically sneaking, it felt as if they were. The small dress shop was tucked away in some hidden corner of Queens, far from where Van, or anyone else Isaac or Maxie knew, dwelled.

She stepped out of the room and spun around to give him a three sixty of the short, fitted red dress she wore. He smiled. "Well?" she asked.

"Come closer," he said.

This time, she smiled. Shaking her head, she said, "Just tell me if you like it."

Peering around to make sure no one was watching, he said, "Come here and I'll tell you." She took a tentative step forward. "Closer."

"Isaac."

He leaned forward and took her by the hand, pulling her to stand between his legs. "That's better," he said, placing his forehead against her abdomen. He shut his eyes and let his fingers trail down her hips, her thighs, all the way to her ankles and up again.

She placed her hands on the back of his head and let them rest there a moment. "The dress, Isaac," she said, softly.

He nodded. "The dress is pretty."

"Better than the other one?"

"The other one was pretty, too," he replied.

"Well, which one is better?"

He looked up at her as his fingers crept under the thin, red fabric. He could feel Maxie's balance waver. "I've decided that we're going to tell Van the truth after you graduate."

Her eyes widened. " _You've_ decided?"

He nodded. "The task obviously can't be left up to you."

She tried to step back but his hands gripped the flesh on the back of her thighs. "Let's not talk about this here," she said, lowering her voice.

"There isn't anything to talk about, Maximilienne. I already told you I've decided."

"You can't just _decide_ ," she hissed.

"But I have," he replied.

She tried to pull back again but his grip only hardened. "You're hurting me," she said.

He raised his eyes to hers. "I thought you liked pain."

Outside of the dress shop, Isaac took Maxie's dress from her and held her hand. For a while they simply walked in silence, both satisfied by such a small public display of affection. Finally, he stopped her at a deserted corner and leaned down to kiss her.

"Maxie," he said. "I have to tell you something."

Frowning, she shook her head. She was too exhausted to talk about Van or coming clean or not having to sneak anymore. She was just too _exhausted._ "Van got booked for a fashion show on Saturday."

She took a step back. "But Saturday night is my show."

He nodded. "I know."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you had to tell me?"

Brows furrowed shamefully, he nodded. "I'm going to miss your show."

Letting out a sigh of relief, Maxie laughed. "Is that all? Isaac, it's just one show."

"It's your last show. Your last show _ever_."

Without reminding him that it was also her chorographical debut, she shrugged. "You'll make it up to me."

"Yes, but don't you want someone in the audience, cheering for you?"

"The _entire_ audience will be cheering me," she said.

"No. Cheering _just_ for you."

Averting her eyes, she said, "Well, actually, there _will_ be someone in the audience cheering just for me. Alex."

This time, it was Isaac who stepped back. When she looked up at him, his expression had hardened. "Alex."

With a weak shrug, she said, "We've been in touch since my birthday. There's nothing going on between us—"

"He _wants_ there to be."

She smiled. "What difference does that make?"

"I don't know if I'll be able to control myself if I see him touch you," he said.

"I guess it's good you'll be at Van's fashion show, then."

Sighing, his features softened again. "Are you upset with me, Maximilienne?"

"Of course not," she said, pressing herself to him. She lifted her face to his and let him kiss her. "Like I said. You'll make it up to me."

" _Mm hmm_ ," he said, grinning. "While you're wearing this dress."

The distant sound of Isaac's name made them jerk away from each other. Turning toward the sound, Isaac spotted Daniel Gnar and another man making their way down the street toward them. "Well, well," Gnar said as he approached. His eyes went from Isaac to Maxie and then back to Isaac. "I didn't think anyone else knew this part of Queens existed."

"Neither did we," Isaac replied.

Gnar smiled and brought his attention to Maxie. "How are you?"

"Well, thanks," she replied, lowering her gaze.

The man beside Gnar cleared his throat. "Oh," said Gnar. "Maxie, this is my cousin, Eric. Eric, this is Maxie."

Eric took Maxie's hand and lowered his lips to her knuckle. Something about him unnerved her. The way he looked at her, always unblinking. "Pleasure to meet you," he said.

"Eric," said Isaac. "Long time no see. When did you get to town?"

"Just a couple days ago," said Eric. "I've been asking Danny-boy when I would see my old friend Isaac." His smile was icy. His words were acidic.

Maxie looked from Eric to Isaac, their stares locked in a silent communication. What passed between them? Warnings? Threats?

"So what brings you two all the way over here?" Gnar asked. Did he sense the tension between them as well?

"Maxie's graduating from NYSPA in a few weeks. We came to pick up her dress," said Isaac.

"NYSPA, huh? Are you a dancer?" Gnar asked.

"Yes."

"Wow. You must be really talented. Attending a school like NYSPA, I mean." There was an edge to his tone that made Maxie shrink into Isaac's side.

"She _is_ talented," Isaac said.

"You know firsthand, huh?" said Eric, grinning with implication.

Isaac smirked. "I've been to a few shows, yes."

Gnar nodded. "Maybe I could see a show."

"Alright, Max, why don't we get going? It's getting late," Isaac said, turning to her.

"Late?" said Gnar. "What do you mean? The night is young. We're only in the area stopping by an antique store nearby, but I know a decent bar that's fairly close. Why don't the four of us go have drinks?"

"I don't think so, Daniel," Isaac said. "I'll see you back at work."

Gnar and Eric stepped aside to let Maxie pass as Isaac prodded her forward. Though she never turned back, she could feel their eyes on her back as she and Isaac walked off.

* * *

Maxie plodded into the apartment at nearly midnight. She was sore and tired from such a long day; she'd been preparing for her show all afternoon, and then after it, Alex insisted on dinner. He wasn't pleased not to be invited up once he brought her home, though, so an inevitable argument ensued. Maxie just wanted to fall into bed.

To her surprise, Van was already home from her own event. She sat on the couch, still draped in a flowing dress from the fashion show. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, a glass of wine rested against her lips, black trails bled down her cheeks where her mascara had ran with her tears. "Van," Maxie said, dropping her belongings at the door and going to her friend's side. "Are you okay?"

Finishing off her wine, she handed the glass to Maxie who promptly refilled it from the nearly empty bottle on the table. "Isaac didn't come to my show," she said, at last.

Maxie gasped. "Why not?"

"We got into a fight on the way there. He's just been so distant lately. I feel like even when he's with me, his isn't with me. We hardly ever sleep together anymore, and when we do, I'm practically forcing it on him. And he didn't really want to go to my show, Max. He isn't even interested in my career and it couldn't be more obvious. Sometimes I wonder why he's with me," she admitted. "I know he loves me. He tells me he does, but sometimes I can't tell. Sometimes I think he doesn't even _like_ me."

Maxie didn't reply. She _couldn't_ reply. Everything Van said hit her harder than the last thing. She knew exactly why Isaac acted the way he did. And had she thought it was okay? Did she actually rationalize that because she _told_ him she didn't want to hurt her friend that she wasn't hurting Van anyway?

"If he wasn't at your show, where was he?" she asked.

Van shrugged. "I don't know. He just dropped me off and left. He didn't even _care_." Another tear rolled over the curve of her cheekbone.

"I'm sorry, Van."

"For what? It isn't your fault. God, you're so lucky. I know I never thought much of Alex but at least he gives a damn. He was at your show, wasn't he?"

"Yes."

Van nodded. "See? I bet he would've been there, regardless of any stupid arguments."

"I know you're upset, Van, but I think you may be giving Alex a little too much credit. He made it to my show, but only after missing almost every single other one I've had in the past year. He's only putting in the effort because he's trying to get back with me."

"Well, at least he's _trying_ , Max," Van snapped. "I bet if I broke up with Isaac today, I would never see him again. There's no way he would still call me, still come around, still go out of his way for me. I mean, I'm _with_ him and he hardly does those things."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"It is true. I wish Isaac would care just _half_ as much as Alex does." Maxie frowned. Van defending Alex? "And _you_. You just take it for granted. String him along."

"Alright," Maxie said, standing up. She knew where the conversation was leading. Van was hurt, and she wouldn't feel it alone. "I've had a long day, I'm going to take a bath."

"He sent me pictures, you know," Van said.

"Who?"

"Alex. He was taking pictures of you at your show and sending them to me. He was so proud. It was almost pathetic, considering how you treat him. You don't _deserve_ someone who loves you that much."

Maxie narrowed her eyes. "Where is this coming from? You spent my entire relationship with Alex trying to convince me that he was the scum of the Earth, telling me to leave him, walk away and never look back."

"Well, maybe now I understand better what he feels like. Giving someone your hundred percent only to get back fifty." She let out a humorless laugh. "If he's even getting _that_ much. Are you holding out just to spite him or is it your hope to _die_ a virgin?"

Maxie clenched her jaw. There it was.

"Good night, Van."

"Maybe if he would just tell you no," Van called as Maxie turned and continued toward her bedroom. "We all know men you _can't_ have are the ones you really want."

Maxie whirled back around and stormed across the living room. "For your information, Van, I'm _not_ a virgin. And unlike you, I have sex regularly."

She stared up at Maxie, blinking. "You have sex? With who?"

"Someone who _wants_ to have sex with me," Maxie spat before pivoting on her heel and stalking off to her bedroom. A moment later, Van was knocking at the door. "Go away," Maxie called.

Van entered, anyway, and stood by the door a moment. Finally, she said, "Why haven't you told me?"

"I haven't told anyone."

"Well I'm not anyone. I'm _me_."

"Maybe I'd like to have just _one_ part of my life that I don't have to share with you, Van." She tried to ignore the irony of that. _Isaac_ , the part of her life that she wasn't sharing with Van.

"Is that why you always disappear when you start seeing new guys? So you can keep secrets from me?"

"It's not about _you_. That's the point."

"Who is he then?" she demanded.

Maxie waved her friend off. "Like I said, just _one_ part of my life."

"Not this one," Van objected. "Do you like him? I mean, you must. Do you _love_ him? You love him, don't you?"

"Just drop it," Maxie said, plopping down on the bed and pulling her shoes off. She began to massage her sore toes. Her entire body ached from a long day of dancing. The adrenaline had long dissipated and she was exhausted—physically and especially mentally. The energy it took to tolerate Van just didn't exist in her at the moment. "Just leave me alone. Please."

Van was shaking her head, looking off aimlessly in contemplation. "This all makes sense. You've been seeing him for months. _That's_ where you disappear to? That's why you just _dropped_ Alex—"

"I dropped him because he threw a pot of boiling spaghetti sauce at me!"

Ignoring her, Van pressed on. "Why are you hiding this mystery guy? And if you're so in love, why are you still seeing Alex at all?"

"Van!" Maxie shrieked. " _Drop it_. I'm not telling you anything. Honestly, I don't want to speak to you at all right now. Just _get out_."

For a moment, Maxie thought Van would object. But then her shoulders sank and she looked away in defeat. "I'm sorry about what I said out there. You know I didn't—"

"Mean it," Maxie interjected. "Yeah. You never do."

NOW

Maxie stared at her father's phone number, scribbled across a scrap of paper. She'd plucked if off of the caller-ID the same day his wife had called her, and now she couldn't stop staring at it. It was as if he were right there, in the palm of her hand. Bea sat across the couch from her, sketching a new tattoo for a client. She didn't look up as she said, "Just call him. See what he wants, at least."

But Maxie shook her head. What would she say to the man that abandoned her? The man who had been meant to take care of her but left her to fend for herself instead? What would she say to the man who'd walked away and hadn't looked back until it was far too late?

She didn't even feel angry with him anymore. Her anger had faded long ago. Her sadness, her bitterness. All that was left was what became of it all. All that was left was the girl she'd grown into. "Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if he'd stayed," she said. "What would I be like if I never lived with Van?"

Bea shrugged. "You can't change the past, Max. You can only dictate the future. Do you want your father in it or not?"

That was the question.

"Let him do the talking," Bea mouthed as Maxie held the phone to her ear. " _He's_ the one that has some explaining to do. And if you feel uncomfortable, just—"

"Hello?" came a voice on the other end of the line. Deep and familiar. How could a voice she hadn't heard in years still be as familiar as those she listened to every day?

She froze. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came forth. Bea nodded, motioning for her to say something. Finally, she choked out a small, "Hello?"

"Yes? Who's this?"

"This is...this is..."

" _Maxie_!" Bea mouthed.

"This is Maxie," she said. "This is your daughter."

There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line, followed by a short silence. Maxie chewed in her bottom lip and counted the long seconds that passed slowly by. _Three. Four. Five—_ "God, Maxie. It is amazing to hear your voice," he said at last.

"Oh. Thanks."

"How...how have you been?" he stammered.

With a humorless chuckle, she said, "It's been nine years. I've been lots of things."

Again, he let out a thick exhale. "Of course. Of course, that was a stupid thing to ask. Like asking what's new. I'm sure _everything_ is new. I just...I've wanted to speak to you for so long. I've rehearsed what I'd say over and over, imaged how our conversation would go, considered every which turn this moment could possibly take. But now that I actually have you on the phone, well. All that's just gone. What do you say to the daughter you abandoned?"

Maxie's eyes drifted shut. She let her head fall into her hands. Hearing him say it, hearing him speak the words. It filled her with crushing emotion so heavy she had to sit. Tears burned behind her lids that she willed to stay hidden. She wouldn't shed another tear for him, ever.

Not even happy ones.

"Look, doing this over the phone just doesn't seem right. Maybe you'd like to meet for coffee some time?"

"Coffee?"

"Or muffins. Banana nut. Do you still like banana nut?"

"Yes," she squeaked.

"Alright then, muffins. Let's meet for muffins. Say, Sunday?"

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter. Sunday muffins, just like when she was a kid. That was his intention, of course. Maybe he was trying to stir up good memories of them, except their Sunday muffin dates were her _only_ good memories of him, which in turn reminded her of all the bad ones.

Before she could agree to meet him, he said, "Thank you so much for calling me. I'd just about given up. When your roommate told me you didn't want to talk, I didn't stop calling. But after you hung up on Nicole, well, it was like hearing it straight from the horses mouth—"

"I'm sorry, what?" Maxie interjected. "My roommate what?"

"She said you didn't want to speak to me. She threatened to get the police involved if I kept calling. I even stopped for a while, up until about three weeks ago, when you spoke to Nicole."

"How long were you calling before that?" Maxie asked.

"Hmm, let's see...Well, it was last year. We moved here in November, so I probably started calling in about October. And then I stopped in February. That's right, I remember because it was just before Valentine's Day. Yep, that's right. I'd been calling for about four months."

Just an hour after hanging up with her father, Maxie was making her way down the hall to her own apartment. The long walk from Bea's had done nothing to pacify her anger. In fact, it only gave her time to thoroughly mull over what Van had done, and now she was practically in a rage. Her hands trembled as she stuck her key into the lock and pushed the door open.

Isaac was in the living room, fixing the leg of the old side table. When he looked up at her, his brows furrowed instantly. "Hey," he said, setting down the hammer he was holding. "What's going on?"

But she didn't reply as she moved past him, straight into the kitchen to where Van was standing over ingredients for a salad.

There was an explanation, Maxie thought. Of _course_ there was. Van would never have kept him from her. He was mistaken. It was just a misunderstanding.

Still, Maxie could feel her voice shake as she spoke her friend's name. "Oh, hey," Van said flatly. She didn't look up from the piece of grilled chicken she was cutting into small squares. Since the evening in the alley, Van barely even looked at Maxie at all, and only spoke to her in short, monotone sentences.

Up until that moment, Maxie had given Van her space. In fact, she used the opportunity to have some space of her own. But now, Van was going to speak, whether she wanted to or not.

"I spoke to my father," Maxie said.

Finally, her roommate met her gaze. "You did?"

"He told me something that can't _possibly_ be true. He told me that he's been calling here. And he called last year, too. He called last year and kept calling for _four months_. Is that true?"

Van opened her mouth to speak but shut it again and bowed her head instead. "I can explain."

"Just answer me," Maxie barked, but she already knew the answer. It was clear on Van's face, in her averted eyes. Blinking back tears, Maxie said, "Please tell me you wouldn't do something like that."

"Maxie," Van choked out. "He didn't deserve another chance. He had no _right_ to call here."

" _Says who_?" Maxie demanded. "How _dare_ you?"

"Look, just calm down—"

"Who the hell do you think you are, turning him away? Not even _telling_ me? It should have been _my_ decision, not yours!"

"He would have just hurt you again! I was just trying to spare you!"

"How about you spare me from _yourself,_ Van!" Maxie shot back, with all of the anger and sadness and resentment that hid just beneath the surface of her heart. Her body shook, her throat ached, her head throbbed.

"You're not being very fair!" Van insisted. "He leaves you in pieces at our doorstep and disappears, then just pops back up after _we've_ spent years putting you back together? That is _not_ fair!"

"To who?" Maxie spat. "To _you_? Newsflash, Van, this isn't about _you_! It's about me! And the huge fucking hole in my chest that hasn't been filled since he left!"

"I was trying to protect you!"

"Bullshit! You just _want_ to be all that I have so you can hold it over my head for the rest of my life!"

"Oh, my God. I can't even believe this is you talking! The man is _already_ causing trouble!"

"The only trouble is _you,_ " Maxie said. "And Kathy, and Tony, never letting me forget that I'll never really be one of you. So, why, _why_ Van, would you want to keep me away from the person who _is_ my family?"

Van was shaking her head. "What are you talking about? We've never held anything over your head! We _are_ your family!"

Isaac was in the kitchen now, standing between the women, his hands raised to separate them.

"Tell her, Isaac!" Van said, but he shook his head. "Don't look at me like that! That man doesn't deserve another chance!"

Isaac glared at her. "Who the hell are you to say so?"

Van recoiled. " _I'm_ the one who was there for her when he left! _I'm_ the one who sat with her when she cried for him _constantly_ , for six months! _I'm_ the one who helped her see that she could survive without him, and that she didn't need him!"

"Of course I don't need him. It's _you_ that I need," Maxie hissed. "It's _you_ that I'll crumble without!"

Van looked as though she would cry. Shaking her head, she said, "I'm your best friend. What's wrong with needing me?"

Maxie stared weakly at her. She remembered what Isaac had said to her, the very first time he came over for dinner. _It's hard for other people to understand. Most of the time, no matter how much they want to, they just don't._ Shaking her head, she said, "I'm leaving."

"It was for your own good! If he left you once, what would stop him from doing it again?" Van demanded. But Maxie was already walking toward the front door. " _Maxie!_ " Van cried, following behind her. "You don't need him! You didn't then and you still don't! You were doing so well without him—"

"No, I wasn't!" Maxie cried, spinning around. "You have no _idea_! You have no _idea_ what it was like for me, Van! Every single day asking myself why I wasn't enough. For him, for my mother. Living with your family and always feeling like the outsider. The outsider, and then the home-wrecker that ran your father off." Her eyes went to Isaac. She had to look away. "If I knew he called...Maybe I could have...I wouldn't have been so..." _Vulnerable. Weak._ She dropped her head in defeat.

"I'm sorry," Van whispered.

With a shrug, Maxie turned and walked out.

* * *

Maxie leaned over the Scrabble board to look at Charlie's latest word. She shook her head. "No. No, Charlie, that is _not_ a word!"

"What? Bullshit! That's a perfectly acceptable word! As a matter of fact, according to this, it's a double points word!"

She continued to shake her head. "No. I already gave you dickhead and asshole. I'm drawing the line at shitfuck."

"Why? It's a word. Watch, I'll use it in a sentence. 'You'd be a real shitfuck not to let me have this word.' See that?"

With a chuckle, Maxie still refused. "No," she said.

"Charlie!" Milla called, coming out of the kitchen. "Did I just hear you swear? C'mon, another dollar for the Swear Jar."

With a huff, Charlie reached into his wallet and pulled out a twenty. "Here," he said. "I have a feeling the rest of this game is going to get pretty ugly."

Sticking the money in the pocket of her sweater, she moved to Maxie. "Honey, are you going home today?" she asked softly. "Not that we mind if you do or don't."

"Yes, she is," Charlie replied before Maxie could, "because she's been here for a week and a half already and she takes too long in the fucking bathroom! When I gotta piss, I gotta piss, kid. My bladder ain't what it used to be."

Milla shook her head disapprovingly at Charlie. "Maxie. Your family is probably worried sick. You haven't even called them."

"I don't have a family," she sulked, "Thanks to Van."

"Bullshit," Charlie snapped. "You don't have a family because your mom offed herself and your father's a selfish prick. I'm not saying it's right what girly did, not giving you your calls and all, but fuck, kid, you were fucking her boyfriend for a year. How 'bout you call it even?"

"Charlie!" Milla cried, but Maxie couldn't even be upset with Charlie's forwardness.

"I had a grandmother," Maxie said. "My dad's mom. I didn't know her very well. She'd had Alzheimer's, so she'd lived in a home most of my life. My dad had been the only one who'd ever visited her. He'd been the only one she'd ever remember. After he disappeared, though, I started going to see her more. So she wouldn't be alone."

"Yeah?" Charlie said.

"Well, a few years after I moved in with Van's family, she died. Two days before Thanksgiving. We were in Florida, at Van's grandmother's house, when the nursing home called me with the news."

Maxie stares at the screen of her cell phone, even after she hangs it up. 'What's wrong?' Van asks. 'Who was that?'

' _My grandma died,' Maxie says. 'Last night.'_

' _Oh, Max,' Van says, crossing the room and pulling Maxie against her. 'Are you alright?'_

' _I need to go back,' Maxie says, standing. 'There's going to be a service. I need to be there. I need to help.'_

' _But it's Thanksgiving. You can't miss Thanksgiving.'_

' _My grandmother_ died _, Van.'_

' _I know. But there's nothing you can do for her now. This is the first Thanksgiving without my dad, Max. You can't be gone, too.'_

_Maxie frowns. Of course. Of course she can't. Arnold isn't there because of_ her _. How can she leave? Still, Maxie says, 'What about_ my _dad? What if he's there?'_

Now Van gets to her feet. 'What if he is? Are you going to go live with him again? After all this time?' Van's tone is sharp, accusing.

' _I just want to see him.'_

_With a shrug, Van says, 'And I want_ my _dad to not be a complete pig, but hey...' Maxie opens her mouth to reply but Van says, 'Let's just go ask my mom.'_

She pivots and skips down the stairs to the dining room where Kathy and Grammy are sitting at the table. Kathy quickly turns her head, but not before Maxie catches her swollen, red rimmed eyes. 'What is it, girls?' Grammy asks. 'Your mother and I are talking.'

' _Maxie wants to go back to New York,' Van says._

Now, Kathy looks up. 'I'm sorry?'

' _My grandma died,' Maxie hurries to explain. 'Her service is this weekend. I don't want to miss it.'_

' _Her dad might be there,' Van adds. 'She just wants to_ see _him.'_

_For a moment, Kathy only stares at Maxie. And then, without flinching, she nods. 'Alright, then. Go. Abandon_ us _for the man who abandoned you.'_

' _Oh, Kathy,' Grammy says quietly._

Maxie opens her mouth to reply, but her words don't find their way out. 'I'm not...I just...'

' _Are you a part of this family or not?' Kathy asks. 'If you are, then you'll stay for Thanksgiving. Holidays are a non-negotiable, understand? But if you'd rather try your hand with your father, I won't stop you. By all means, go.' She stands and moves past Maxie, out of the dining room. 'Good riddance,' Maxie hears her say._

' _Told you,' says Van, turning to go back up the stairs._

Grammy, too, stands, and squeezes Maxie's arm before leaving her there alone.

"Needless to say," Maxie concludes. "I missed the funeral. I still have no idea if my dad was there or not."

For once, Charlie has nothing to say. Then he clears his throat. "At least call her. Let her know you're not off dead somewhere."

"Bea knows where I am," Maxie pointed out.

"Hey. Don't argue with me, 'kay? Just get your ass home. But make me dinner first."

But she didn't go home. As soon as she left Charlie's, she boarded a train to Brooklyn and made her way to Brass Knuckles Boxing Gym, where she knew she would find Isaac. She waited outside for him on a bench across the road, so as not to be spotted by Gnar instead. She sat for nearly an hour, patiently watching the door until Isaac finally emerged.

It was as if he knew she would be there. As soon as he stepped into the evening, his eyes found her. And he smiled.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as he approached.

She glanced back at his gym and motioned for him to walk. "I came to say hi," she said with a small shrug.

"Really? Because we've been living in the same apartment for the last eight months and you've barely spoken a word to me, so I can't imagine you came all the way to Brooklyn just to say hi. Where have you been all week, anyway? Van's having a fucking meltdown. She keeps talking about postponing the wedding."

Maxie chuckled. "I guess you're welcome, then."

Isaac smirked. Lowering his eyes, he asked, "Are you coming home soon? She isn't the only one who misses you."

"I never got to thank you," she said.

"For what?"

"The night of the stampede. I just...I froze. I may have gotten trampled if it weren't for you."

"It's funny, huh? How protecting you is like second nature to me? Making sure you're safe, making sure you're well."

She nodded. "That's why I'm here. I'm having dinner with my dad tomorrow."

Isaac raised an eyebrow. "No kidding."

"Yeah. I finally agreed. It'll be him and his..." She swallowed hard against her body's own rejection of her next words. "Him and his family. I really don't want to go alone. So, I was wondering...If you're not busy, I mean...Maybe you wouldn't mind—"

"Max," he interjected. She raised her gaze to his and from the way the lingering rays of sun from dusk glowed behind him, she wondered if he was actually an angel. An angel, or a dream. "Of course I'll come with you," he said with a comforting grin. "You don't even have to ask."

She let out of sigh of relief. "Good, because I just don't think I'm ready to face him alone. And Bea's working. And I obviously wasn't going to ask Van."

"And Gnar?"

She just shrugged. She couldn't tell him that she needed _him_ there next to her when she faced the only man who ever hurt her as badly as he had. "Remember when you told me that sometimes no matter how much people want to understand, they just can't?"

"Yes."

"You _do_?"

With a smile, he replied, "You'd be surprised by how much I'm remembering these days, Maxie."

_Nothing that counts_ , she wanted to tell him, but remained silent.

#

NOW

Maxie's leg bounced beneath the table she and Isaac shared as they awaited her father's arrival at the small café. She hadn't touched her muffin, though Isaac occasionally picked a piece off and popped it into his mouth. "Relax," he told her for the umpteenth time. "Everything's going to be fine."

"The last time you told me that, I found you on my bedroom floor in a pool of your own blood about five minutes later."

He smiled at her. She smiled back.

"You know, I'd daydreamed about killing Drew a million and one times before that night. I finally do it and I can't even _remember_." He laughed, but Maxie didn't. Unlike Isaac, the details of that night were perfectly clear in her memory, and not a moment of it had been funny.

"I don't think you enjoyed it as much as you would hope," she said.

"I stopped him from hurting you, didn't I?" She nodded. "Then believe me, I enjoyed it."

She sighed. "The things you do for the women you—" She stopped short on the last word.

"The women I what?" he asked, leaning forward.

Her face grew hot. His tone stirred the thing inside of her that certainly didn't need stirring. "Nothing. You're bound to get yourself killed one day, is all." Clearing her throat, she raised her eyes to the door and gasped. "He's here."

Victor Shannen stepped into the coffee shop, Nicole and Addison Shannen close behind him. He paused to scan the café and Maxie watched him, unable to do anything but look at the man who seemed like a distant stranger to her now. "I think he's looking for you," Isaac said.

"This may have been a mistake," she whispered.

"It wasn't, Max. In fact, this is long past due."

She shook her head. "No. I don't know what to do."

Without a reply, Isaac stood. "Over here!" he called. Maxie inhaled sharply as Isaac pulled her to her feet. Her gaze met Victor's and for a moment he stood there, staring at her. "You guys are fucking twins," Isaac murmured.

"Actually I look more like my mom," she said. Victor always thought so.

They came to the table and Nicole stepped forward first and pulled Maxie into a tight hug. Beside her, she could hear Isaac and Victor becoming acquainted. And then Nicole stepped back, and Isaac moved over, and Victor came forward. Again, they simply stood there a moment, taking one another in.

He looked older, but only more distinguished. He had a salt and pepper mustache now, and Maxie thought it suited him. His hair was also shorter, probably because it was thinning. But he was still as handsome as he'd always been. He was still her father. "Maxie," he said. As he said it, she remembered that he was the one who had started calling her Maxie after she was born. He'd once told her that Noelle had hated it in the beginning, but everyone else had agreed that she looked like a Maxie. "Thank you for agreeing to meet me today."

She nodded. "Why don't we sit?" Nicole suggested.

Addison hurried to occupy the seat beside Maxie. "Are you my sister?" she asked.

Maxie's eyes widened. She looked at Victor who nodded. "Yeah," she said at last. "I guess I am."

"I'm a ballerina, too."

Maxie couldn't help but smile. "Are you? I bet you're amazing."

"We've showed her some of Victor's old home videos of you at recitals when you were younger, Maxie," Nicole said. "She wants to be just like you."

Maxie's eyes widened. "You have videos of me?" she asked her father.

He nodded. "A few."

Again, she couldn't help but smile. He really hadn't forgotten about her. But why didn't he come back? Why did he stay away for so long? Maxie thought it was too early on to ask. "So, are you two together?" Victor asked, motioning toward Isaac.

"No," she and Isaac replied in unison.

"Just friends," Maxie clarified. "He's here for moral support."

Victor nodded. "I understand. I'm sure whether to see me today wasn't an easy decision for you to make."

"Actually," she said, "it sort of was." A short silence fell over them as Victor smiled and Maxie lowered her eyes to the table.

"So, Maxie," said Nicole. Thank goodness for Nicole. "Why don't you tell us what you've been up to? There seems to be years of catching up to do."

Maxie shrugged. "I wouldn't know where to start."

"You graduated from NYSPA recently, haven't you?" Victor asked. "Are you working?"

"Yes, but I don't really dance anymore," she said.

"Get out of here. Why not?"

"I don't know. I just don't love it like I used to."

"What do you do, then?"

She and Isaac exchanged glances. The topic of her abandoned dance career was still one everybody tip-toed around, like an open wound near salt. "I'm a waitress," she said, her cheeks reddening. "At a restaurant. I know that's not very impressive, with a dance background and NYSPA and all, but I'd really like to open my own restaurant one day, so I just feel like this experience will help me in the future." When she finally paused for breath, she expected him to tell her how stupid she was. The way Kathy did.

"Wow," he said, a proud smile unfolding on his lips. "All that time you spent cooking for your mother. Who would have thought it would pay off?"

Maxie laughed. "Well, it hasn't yet. But hopefully it will eventually."

"I'm sure it will," he said, his eyes alight. "I've tasted your cooking. And I can only imagine how much better you've gotten." He looked at Isaac. "You must know."

"I do, sir. She's one of a kind."

Again, Isaac and Maxie exchanged glances. For the first time she noticed that his arm rested on the back of her chair. She leaned back against it.

Before long, they all had muffins in front of them and were talking about everything the others had missed. High school, college, events. Weddings, successes, births. Addison remained endlessly fascinated by Maxie, asking about her dancing, her tattoos, her hair, her nail polish, her clothes. And finally, "How come you don't live with us?"

Everyone fell silent, and then Victor said, "Because, Addy. Daddy did a bad thing when Maxie was just a little girl. He moved far away from her, and we didn't see each other for a long time."

"Why?" Addison asked.

This time he looked at Maxie. "Because I was a coward," he said. "I felt responsible for what happened to your mother, for you having to grow up without her." He shrugged weakly. "Looking at you was like looking my own guilt in the face and I just..." He paused, lowered his eyes. "I was a coward, Maxie. I wanted to come back a million times but I just _couldn't_. When you were almost sixteen, I stopped in town once and waited for you to get out of school. I saw you, walking with your friend. The Trimmel girl."

Maxie nodded. "Van."

"Yeah. Her. You were smiling. You looked healthy, happy. I figured you were better off."

Maxie bit down on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. Shaking her head, she finally choked out, "I wasn't."

When Maxie at last returned home, no one was there. The apartment was a mess, of course. Dishes filled the sink, wedding magazines littered all the surfaces, Van's shoes seemed to be strewn everywhere. Maxie peered around and contemplated leaving again. Maybe she could just go back to Charlie's, or Bea's even, and no one would know she ever returned. But just as the idea came to her, the front door opened and Van stepped inside, Isaac behind her.

Van's eyes widened when she spotted her friend, and she practically ran across the apartment to embrace her, already crying by the time she had Maxie in her arms. "You're back," she sobbed into Maxie's hair. "I thought you weren't coming back! I'm so sorry, Maxie. I really, really am sorry."

"It's fine, Van. I know it came from a good place." Van pulled away and gazed at her friend. Maxie frowned. "You look _terrible_."

"I know. I've barely been sleeping since you left. Where did you go? We searched for you everywhere we could think of. We were so worried."

"Sorry," Maxie said, dropping her eyes guiltily. Charlie had been telling her to call for two weeks. "I was at Charlie's."

"Told you," Isaac said to Van.

She rolled her eyes. "We thought—"

" _You_ thought," Isaac corrected.

" _Gnar_ and I thought that you were at Bea's. We figured she was lying when she said she hadn't seen you."

"Well, she wasn't lying. I stayed with Charlie. And I went to spend some time with my dad, too."

"Oh," Van said stiffly. "Well, I'm happy you got to reconnect with him. If that's what you wanted."

Maxie nodded. "It is what I wanted. He's coming over for dinner on Saturday." Van's eyes widened. Her mouth fell open as if she would object but she shut it again. "I want you to be here," Maxie went on. "I want everyone to be here. It's time we bury the hatchet. Move forward."

Van remained silent. Stepping forward, Isaac placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. "I think that's a great idea, Max."

Clearing her throat, Van said, "Yeah. Me, too."

"Do you really?" Maxie asked. She shrugged. "I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable, Van. And my dad doesn't want to overstep any boundaries. If you're not okay with him coming here, I'll cancel."

Van frowned and shrugged. "I don't have a problem with it, Maxie. If you're happy to have him, then I'm happy to have him. But my mom..."

"Yeah," Maxie said, lowering her eyes.

"Hey," Isaac said. "It doesn't matter how Kathy feels. This isn't about her."

"Well, I mean, it isn't like she doesn't have a _right_ to an opinion," Van said, lightly.

"Sure, she does. And Maxie has a right to a father."

With that, Van forced a smile. "Of course. Well, I'll just go call her now then and let her know. I'll tell her to be nice."

When she was gone, Isaac turned to Maxie. "Are you sure about this?" he asked.

"Not really," she admitted. "But they're my family, and whether they like it or not, he is, too. I just want everyone to get along."

"You don't need their approval, you know."

"That's the thing," Maxie said. "I kind of do."

THEN

Maxie stood before the mirror, gazing at her reflection. In just a matter of hours, she would officially be a college graduate. Maybe later, she would look in the mirror and see something a little different. Maybe success had some sort of glow to it, like pregnancy.

She smoothed out her dress, the same short, black one that Isaac helped her choose. It hung off of her body in the most elegant way. When she'd spotted it in the store, she knew she had to have it. She imagined it swaying back and forth in sync with her stride, as she made her way up to the stage when they called her name at graduation.

And her hair. Maybe that was what she was most excited about. She'd had yet to reveal it to her family, to Alex or Bea, or even to Isaac. Her once long, wild curls now fell just below her chin. She had one side pushed back and held in place with her mother's favorite hair clip. On her finger, she wore the ring Isaac gave her; it was the first time she wore it in public since he gave it to her, and in her small, black clutch, hidden away in the pocket, was the golden lock pendent to which Isaac possessed the key.

She felt nervous. But she felt _good_.

"Maxie!" Kathy called impatiently from the living room. "Do you want to be late to your own graduation? Let's go!"

Taking one last deep breath, Maxie fluffed her hair, fixed her dress again, then made her way out of her room. When she stepped into the living room, everyone gasped at once. She peered around at everyone gazing back at her in awe. Van, Kathy, even Tony. Alex and Bea.

And Isaac.

Her eyes stopped on him, on his expression. Every single thing she could have hoped to see, wished to see, was there on his face. Had he even _tried_ to remain indifferent under her family's suspicious eyes? If so, he paled under the effort. His face showed everything. Absolutely _everything_.

"I'm ready," she finally said, willing herself to look away from him.

Kathy stood and went to her with open arms. "Oh God, I think I'm going to cry. We haven't even left yet, and I think I'm going to cry."

"Don't cry," Maxie said, embracing her.

"I've been waiting for this day for a long time, you know. At least _one_ of my kids is graduating college."

Van and Tony rolled their eyes. Alex went to her next. "Look at you," he said, beaming proudly. "You look _beautiful_. I love your hair. When did you do this?"

"Yeah, Max," Van said, touching her hair. "I can't believe you actually _cut_ it."

"I love it," Bea said. "It really fits you. You should've done it a long time ago."

"Except now you can see this tattoo on the back of your neck. What will that choreographer think when he sees all of these tattoos on you, Max? Huh?" Kathy said.

"Not now, Mom. Right now, we're encouraging."

"Actually, we're wasting time," Tony chimed in. "Can we get out of here already? There aren't going to be any seats left."

"He's right," Kathy agreed. "Everyone out! Go, go!"

Alex took Maxie's hand and leaned forward to kiss her. "Don't mess up her lipstick!" Van cried.

"It's no-smudge," he replied, but opted to kiss her cheek instead, anyway. They all filed out of the apartment, Isaac trailing behind to lock the door after everyone. Maxie glanced back at him. He was the only one who hadn't said anything to her. Maybe because all that he needed to say could only be shared between them. She _hoped_ that was the reason.

"Wait, Max!" Bea called, rushing back up the hall. "I forgot something in your room."

Isaac stepped aside so that the girls could go back in. Once they were alone, Bea hugged her. "I didn't really forget anything. I just wanted a minute alone with you. To say congratulations. You really do look beautiful."

"Thank you."

"And don't let Kathy scare you with all of that choreographer talk. Stand up to her, Max."

Maxie nodded. "I will."

Bea hugged her again. "One more thing. Did you see the way Isaac was looking at you when you came out of the bedroom? I thought he was going to melt right into the cushions," she giggled.

"I didn't see," Maxie replied, but the truth was she saw. And she didn't think she would ever forget.

It all seemed like a long blur of events; finding her place amongst hundreds of her classmates, waiting more and more anxiously to be called as the announcer got closer to her name, and then finally hearing it, and standing, and making her way down the long aisle and up to the stage. She looked out into the audience for her family, and found them in the area where they promised they'd be. They were all standing, all cheering, all smiling. Especially Isaac. With his large body and his impossibly good looks, he stood out most of all.

When it was over, they all met in the crowded lobby, taking turns hugging and kissing and congratulating her. Alex gave her a bouquet of roses. Kathy cried. Van stood by her side the entire time, holding her hand, as proud to be the graduate's best friend as the graduate was to be the graduate.

Again, Isaac stood back, watched silently as everyone took all of her. It wasn't until Van announced that she had to use the bathroom, and the whole brood followed suit, did they finally have a chance to be alone. He went to her, staring down at her with a proud, loving grin. He took one of her curls between his fingers and played with it. "You're breathtaking," he said.

She looked away as her cheeks burned red. "Thank you."

"Congratulations, Maximilienne. I'm _so_ proud of you."

She smiled up at him, her heart fluttering. How did those words feel a million times more special coming from him than they had coming from even Kathy? "You are?"

"I am. And I love your hair. And this dress of yours, is this the one I helped you choose? It looks even better than I remember. And these red lips..." With no regard to the hundreds of people around them, or her family, just in the bathroom, Isaac raised her chin to his face and pressed his lips softly to hers. She leaned her head back, let her eyes drifting shut for a moment, forgetting where she was. And then she pulled back.

"We can't," she said, looking around nervously.

" _Sh-h._ Kiss me right now, Maximilienne."

"My lipstick—"

"It's no-smudge, remember? Kiss me _now_." But he didn't wait for her to comply before he pulled her to him.

They didn't part again until they heard Bea clear her throat. "They're coming," she quietly warned, and Isaac stepped away, just in time for Van to appear out of the crowd.

"Is everyone ready to go home?" she asked, finding her place beside Maxie again.

"Alright, are we all here?" Kathy called, appearing next. "I'm hungry, let's go." She, too, put her arm around Maxie, and the three women started toward the door together, followed by Tony and Alex, followed by Bea and Isaac.

"She looks beautiful, huh?" Bea said.

"Indeed," Isaac replied.

"I bet Van doesn't know how lucky she is to have you, while Maxie pretends."

Isaac shook his head. "Van doesn't have me, Bea. And Maxie can't pretend forever."

Kathy had Maxie's graduation dinner catered. The large trays of food were waiting in the kitchen when they returned to the apartment, and everyone took their seats as Maxie began to bring it all to the table. "Maxie," Isaac said, standing. It was the first time he spoke to her all day in front of everyone else. "Why don't you have a seat, for once? It's _your_ day."

But she looked at everyone else, and _they_ were all sitting. "Who's going to serve everyone?"

"We're adults. We'll serve ourselves."

She opened her mouth to object, but she knew that tone of his, and he wouldn't hear no. "I'll bring the food to the table," Bea offered, getting to her feet. "He's right, Max, have a seat."

With a grin, Isaac nodded. "I'll get the plates and silverware." He paused to look over the rest of the table. "Anyone else?"

With a sigh, Van stood. "I'll get the cups and drinks."

So Maxie sat and didn't lift a finger as, for once, everyone else served _her_. She didn't even have to make her own plate. And she was relieved to see that Bea straightened up some, too, because as nice as the idea of being served was, she _knew_ they wouldn't execute the cleanup as well.

When everyone was seated again, Kathy raised her glass. "I think we should all toast to Maxie."

"To Maxie," everyone replied in unison.

"I am _so_ proud of you, honey," Kathy said, beaming. "As soon as you came to us, I knew you would be successful. You've always been an amazing girl, an amazing student, an amazing dancer. Does that choreographer realize how _lucky_ he is to have you under his wing?"

Bea met Maxie's eyes across the table. Maxie swallowed hard. "Actually," she said. "I have an announcement to make."

Kathy lowered her glass, puzzled. "What?"

"Well. I went to Markus Ramsey's studio last week, to talk about the opportunity and...well..." She paused, met Bea's eyes again for strength. Then Isaac's. They both gave her small nods of encouragement. Taking a deep breath, she continued. "I turned it down, Kathy. I didn't take the job."

Kathy gasped. Van's eyes widened. Alex grabbed her hand. "Max, _why_?" he demanded, eyebrows furrowed with concern.

"Was the pay too low?" Van asked.

"She's not making _anything_ right now!" Kathy lashed out. " _Any_ pay is better than _nothing_! Maxie, I need you to explain this to me _right now_."

"Please don't be upset," Maxie said. "I just don't want to do it. I don't want to dance anymore."

She felt as if all the air in the room dried up. No one moved, no one spoke. They all just stared at her. "You don't want to dance anymore?" Kathy finally said, slowly, as if trying to comprehend. "All you've done your whole entire life is dance, and now you just don't want it anymore? All of a sudden."

"Not all of a sudden," Maxie said.

"Yes, Maxie! All of a sudden! You just graduated from NYSPA a fucking hour ago!"

"I've been wanting to stop for a long time now, Kathy. For years. I tried to tell you guys, but no one ever listens. I don't love dance anymore, not like I used to."

"But, Max," Van said gently. "You're so _good_ at it."

Maxie glared at her. "How would you know, Van? The only people at this table who have been to any of my shows since the beginning of my NYSPA _career_ are Bea and Isaac."

Van turned to Isaac. "You've been to her shows?"

"I don't _care_ about your goddamn shows, Maxie!" Kathy bellowed. "Obviously you're good, or else you wouldn't be sought after by one of the top choreographers in New York City! I've been watching you dance since you were fourteen years old, don't tell me I don't know how good you are!"

"I'm not saying that—"

"You're being a fool! You're being rash and hasty! It's normal to be curious about other possible career paths at your age, but Jesus, Maxie, don't be fucking stupid! Call that man back and tell him you want that job!"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Kathy, but I _don't_ want the job."

Kathy huffed in frustration. "I don't understand. I just don't understand."

"Maybe you should just think about this, babe," Alex said.

"I've thought about it!" she insisted. Looking at Kathy, she said, "I've thought about it for years! The only reason I didn't quit a long time ago was because you wouldn't let me!"

"Bullshit, Maxie!" Kathy snapped.

"You told me I was just mourning. Whenever I mentioned anything about cooking, you blew me off and said it was just a phase. Well it _isn't_. I want to cook!"

Kathy's eyes widened, and then she laughed humorlessly. "You want to _cook_? Are you _joking_?"

Frowning, Maxie lowered her eyes. Had she expected anything different? Support maybe? _Ha_. _That_ was the joke. "I've seen Maxie's cookbooks," Isaac said. "She's really got something."

"And her cooking _is_ some of the best," Bea added.

Kathy shook her head. "I'm glad you guys believe in her, but let's be realistic here. She didn't just graduate from _culinary_ school. She graduated from one of the top performing arts school in the whole country. She's a dancer. You're a _dancer_ , Maxie, not a fucking chef! Call back that man and take that job!"

"No," she said, barely audibly.

Suddenly Kathy was on her feet, reaching across the table. "How dare you!" she screamed. "Do you know how much this family sacrificed for you? Do you know what we gave up to make sure you could have a future like the one Markus Ramsey is offering you? How _dare_ you sit here and tell me no! You're the most selfish, ungrateful person I've ever met!"

Isaac stood. "Why don't we all just calm down?"

"Why don't _you_ stay out of it? Maxie, I'm going to say this for the last time! Get out of that chair, _right now_ , call that choreographer, and take that job! You're _not_ going to throw your life away on pipe dreams! All of your hard work, all of _my_ hard work, is _not_ about to be flushed down the fucking toilet!" Maxie didn't reply, but she didn't move from her seat, either. Kathy stormed around the table to her. "You're an ingrate!" she spat. "A fucking ingrate! And you're going to fail! And you're going to wish you'd just listened to me! What would your mother think of you right now? If she wasn't dead already, _this_ certainly would have killed her!"

Maxie inhaled sharply. Tears welled in her eyes. She tried to get up, but Kathy shoved her back down. "No! You sit here and listen to me—"

"No!" Isaac barked. Everyone looked up at him. "That's enough," he said. "No more."

"What did I say?" Kathy shot back. "Stay out of this! As a matter of fact, if you're not a part of this family, I want you out of here. Leave. These are personal matters. Especially you. You leave," Kathy said, glaring at Isaac.

Isaac nodded. "You're right. I'll leave." He looked at Maxie. "Get your sweater," he instructed.

" _What_?" Van cried.

"She's coming with me," Isaac replied evenly.

"You're sticking up for _her_?" she lashed out. "We're her family, Isaac, we're just worried about the decisions she's making!"

"No, you're yelling at her, putting her down, telling her she'll _fail_. Are you going to take her out to the street for a public stoning next?"

"Alright, that's it," Kathy said, stepping toward Isaac. "Leave! Now!"

"I'm on my way out, Kathy. Max?"

"She's not _going_ with you!" Van said, getting to her feet.

"Well, I'm not leaving without her."

"What? You think she's not safe here or something? We're her family!"

"You keep saying that, but you don't fucking act like it!" He looked at Kathy. "You're standing here, insulting her, screaming in her face, and foaming at the fucking mouth like a mad dog. You have the _nerve_ to bring her mother into this. And _you_ ," he said, nodding at Van. "Don't try to stick up for her now, when all you've done is sit there and watch this whole time. Just like you always do. Max," he said sharply. "Get. Your. Sweater."

"I can't," she murmured.

"She's not the victim!" Kathy yelled.

"Of course not, Kathy. _You_ are. And you, Van! And you, too, Tony. You've all just given up _so much_ to make Maxie's life good. How _dare_ she make a decision to make herself happy, instead of trying to pay _you_ all back? _Max!_ "

Maxie sat helpless, looking from Isaac to everyone else. What was she supposed to do? "Maxie, you don't have to leave," Alex said to her.

" _You_ ," Isaac snapped at him. "Don't even speak. _I'll_ grab the fucking sweater, Maxie. Let's go."

Van was trembling, on the brink of tears. Kathy's eyes were wide, her face was beat red with anger. Tony looked as bitter as he always did, glaring at Maxie with that unforgiving hate in his eyes that said, _this is all your fault. Again_. What would they all think if she left? There would be _hell_ to pay. But she knew that if she stayed, it would only be worse. Turning away from their faces, she got up and followed Isaac out the door.

Outside, Maxie was practically running to keep up with Isaac's long, swift strides. "I don't know how you put _up_ with them," he huffed. "They're un-fucking- _believable_. I have fucking had it with those people. I don't know how you lived in a house with that for years, I really don't know."

"Isaac," she said.

"We're doing it tomorrow," he went on. "I know you wanted to wait a week, but I can't. I literally cannot. Another second in that apartment and I'm bound to fucking kill someone."

" _Isaac,_ " she repeated, grabbing his arm and pulling him to a halt. He turned to find her breathless behind him. His cold, hard expression quickly softened.

"Shit, Max," he said. "I'm sorry. Are you alright? I'm sorry you had to go through that but mark my words—that will be the last time. Do you hear me? After tomorrow, you don't have to look at any of them ever again if you don't want to."

She shook her head. "We can't do it tomorrow."

With a heavy sigh, he asked, "Why not? Why are we waiting another second?"

Lowering her eyes, she said, "We can't do it tomorrow. We can't do it ever."

A thick blanket of silence settled over them for a moment. "What do you mean?" he asked at last.

"Did you see her face? Did you see _all_ their faces?"

"What does that mean?"

"It means if I do this to Van, they will all hate me. Everything they've ever accused me of will be true."

He narrowed his eyes. "You're worried about what _they'll_ think of you? Maxie, were you not _there_ just two minutes ago when Kathy was calling you a fucking failure?"

Lowering her eyes, she said, "She was just upset."

"And she'll just be upset when we tell her about us."

"No," she said, her voice just above a whisper.

"Maxie. I'm not doing this with you. Not now, not ever again. Do you love me?"

"Of course—"

"Then be with me. Not in secret, not behind anyone's back, not with Alex at the same time. This has gone _too_ far and I'm done with it."

She nodded. "Me, too."

Glaring down at her, he took a step back. "So what are you saying?"

Finally looking up at him, she replied, "I'm sorry. I love you, but..." Her voice got caught in her throat. Was she really about to do it? Was she really about to speak the words she'd been unable to speak for over a year? "We can't be together, Isaac."

His jaw tightened, his brows furrowed. "Don't do this," he said.

"I have to."

"Well, I guess I was wrong about you then. I thought you were strong."

"You thought _I_ was strong? _Why_? Name one second during our entire relationship that I've had strength. All I've ever tried to do is resist you, and all I've ever succeeded at is failing. I haven't looked Van in the eye in _months!_ You think that's strength? _This_ is strength. What I'm doing right now. Walking away from you, like I should have done from the start."

"But you didn't," he said. "And now it's too late."

She shook her head. "No, it isn't."

" _I'll_ tell her. I will go up there right now and fucking tell her."

She stood unfazed by his threat. "No, you won't. Because even though you don't care about hurting her, I know that you would never hurt me."

His face crumbled. He slowly shook his head, the reality of the situation settling on his chest. How many times had she walked away from him? How many times had she told him it was over? Countless. But this time was different. He could see it in her face, hear it in her voice, feel it in the air between them.

He was losing her.

"You think if you end this now, you're off the hook? You think there won't be any repercussions? Will this clear your conscience, Max? Because if you really think what Van doesn't know won't hurt her, you're wrong. She's _been_ getting hurt. And when I leave you, I'll be leaving her, too. So she'll continue to hurt. And you'll still have to look at her every day, _watch_ her suffer, and know it's because of you. Because of _us._ So why not at least make it worth it?"

"Because."

"Because what?" She said nothing. "Because even if I walk away right now, and never speak to her again, whether she spends the next two weeks or two years suffering because of it, you'll still have her. Right?" Maxie dropped her eyes guiltily. "How fucking selfish."

"You don't understand," she said.

"I don't understand loneliness? _I_ don't understand not having anyone?" He took a step toward her, leaned close to her face. "You have _me_ , Maximilienne. For the rest of your life, you have _me_. Isn't that enough?"

She wanted it to be. She wanted so badly for it to be, but what if there came a day that she _didn't_ have him? Her own father left her, why couldn't Isaac? And then she would _really_ be alone. When she didn't reply, he dropped his head, bit down on his bottom lip.

"So all of this was for nothing?" Again, she didn't reply. "Maximilienne, answer me. Tell me that all of this was for nothing." Answer him? She couldn't even look at him. Suddenly he seized her by the arms. With a firm shake, he bellowed, " _Answer me_!"

"It was for nothing," she said at last, her eyes squeezed shut.

Letting her go, Isaac took two long steps back. "You're making a mistake."

"She's my best friend."

"You're going to regret this for the rest of your life."

"She's my best friend, Isaac!"

"You're going to realize how badly you fucked up, and then it's going to be too late. Think about it, Maxie. Think real hard about it before you tell me again that you're done. Because the next time you say it, I'm going to turn around and leave, and you are _never_ going to see me again."

She felt as if she were breaking in half, _physically_ tearing down the middle. She wrapped her arms around herself, willed her own body not to crumble to the floor and shatter. Squeezing her eyes shut, she murmured, "I'm done."

As soon as the words left her tongue, she wanted to take them back. She _wasn't_ done. She _couldn't_ be. She loved him, so much that it hurt. How could she just be _done_? And yet, there was nothing for them. She was given a choice. Isaac or Van. Her best friend, her _sister_ , or a man.

She was given a choice and she made it.

Still. How could she be _done_? "Wait, Isaac," she said, opening her eyes. But it was too late. He was gone.

#

NOW

When Saturday evening arrived, Kathy, Tony, Van, and Isaac all sat around the living room, anticipating Victor's arrival. The television was on, but Maxie wondered if anyone but Tony was actually watching. Isaac, who sat beside Van, his arm draped over the back of her chair, kept shooting glances back at Maxie who rushed about the kitchen. But Van didn't seem to notice his averted attention as she chewed nervously on her cuticles, a habit she'd abandoned at the start of her short hand-modeling career.

After just a few minutes, Kathy whipped around to face her. "Jesus, Van, will you stop? It's disgusting," she snapped.

Van frowned but obediently dropped her hands in her lap as Kathy turned back to the sitcom, crossing her arms over her chest. Her knee bounced and her foot wagged and the sides of her mouth seemed fixed permanently downward.

Just minutes before her father was due to arrive, Maxie went into her room to freshen up. A moment later, Isaac casually excused himself to use the restroom but appeared at her door instead. "How do I look?" she asked him, running her fingers through her curls. She wondered what her father thought of her short hair. He'd only ever known her with it long.

"Beautiful. As always," he replied.

For the first time all day—for but a moment—Maxie's thoughts slipped away from Victor. She stopped touching her hair and looked at Isaac, _really_ looked at him, and sighed heavily. His brows were furrowed but he offered her a sympathetic smile. "It'll be fine," he said quietly.

She nodded, resisting the urge to go to him and pressed her body to his. The feel of him against her never failed to placate her erratic emotions, no matter what the situation. Of course, she didn't move from where she stood. "I hope I'm not making a mistake."

"You're not."

"It's just that I feel like I've let go of some of the anger I've been holding onto. Seeing him again, speaking to him...It was like exhaling after holding my breath for nine years. I hope, after tonight, _everyone_ will be able to exhale."

He nodded. "I'm sure they will, Max."

Before she could reply, the doorbell sounded first. She gasped. "That's them!" she cried, rushing out of her bedroom toward the front door. She gave her family one last _be_ _nice_ glare before pulling it open.

Her father and Nicole stood smiling on the other side. They both greeted her with hugs and kisses as she stepped aside so they could enter. "Wow," Victor said, peering around the apartment. "You've really done well for yourself."

Kathy scoffed from the living room as she stood to find her place at the table. Van and Tony followed her without a word, and only Isaac came forward to greet Nicole and Victor. Victor shook his hand, Nicole hugged him. And then they joined everyone else at the table. "Hello, everyone," Victor said with a smile. Everyone mumbled replies. Turning to the only friendly face, Victor said, "Good to see you again."

At last, Van spoke up. " _Again_?"

"Dad, you remember Van," Maxie said quickly. "And Kathy and Tony."

"Good to see you all again," he said. More mumbles.

Maxie introduced Nicole next, who smiled and greeted them enthusiastically, despite the obvious disdain. "Have a seat," Maxie said, motioning toward the empty chairs. "I'm just going to finish bringing the food to the table."

"I'll help," Isaac offered. He followed her to the kitchen where he leaned close to her and whispered, "I don't think this is going to be good, Max."

"Don't jinx it," she shot back. "Here, take the vegetables."

When all the food was on the table, Maxie and Isaac took their seats. "It all smells amazing," Victor said.

"Wait 'til you taste it," Isaac said, plopping a large serving a mashed potatoes onto his plate.

"I can't wait," Nicole said as Isaac passed her the bowl. She fixed a plate for Victor and then herself. Maxie thought of her mother who always insisted everyone make their own plates. She wondered if her father ever thought of that, too. She wondered if it made him appreciate Nicole even more. "Mashed potatoes are Addison's favorite," Nicole said with a smile.

"Yep. She loves mixing them with corn," Victor added.

Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Don't you like that, too, Max?"

She smiled and nodded. Victor also smiled. "No, kidding. I guess you and Addy are two of a kind."

"Maxie and Addy. How sweet," Kathy said dryly.

Nicole looked at her from across the table, her smile fading. "Hey, where is Addison tonight, anyway?" Maxie asked quickly. "I thought she was coming."

"She would have been jumping off the walls," Victor said with the wave of a hand. "She's a little firecracker. No one else would have gotten a chance to speak."

"But she's been asking about you nonstop," Nicole said.

"How does it feel to have a sister?" Van asked. "Besides me, of course."

Maxie forced a tight smile. "It's nice. She's really sweet."

"I guess I'll have to meet her sometime. A sister of yours is a sister of mine, right?"

Missing the snide tone behind Van's words, or maybe just ignoring it, Nicole said, "I think that's a great idea. Addy would definitely love it. You could all have a girl's night."

"Maybe she can be the flower girl at your wedding," Tony suggested brightly. Van nearly choked, and Maxie thought that maybe that was what Tony had been going for.

"Well, there's no ring bearer so we probably won't need a flower girl, either," Van said.

"When is the wedding?" Victor asked.

"September," Van replied. For the first time all night, there was no sarcasm or hostility in her voice, just a lot of pride. "We want it to be warm enough for a strapless dress, but cool enough that our guests aren't sweating. The ceremony is taking place in a garden."

"Sounds beautiful," Nicole said.

"And expensive," Kathy mumbled.

"But worth it," Van quickly added. "I mean, you only get married once, right?" Then, looking straight at Victor, she raised an eyebrow. "Or maybe not."

Maxie glared at her friend who didn't acknowledge it as she took another bite of her vegetables. "How did you propose, Isaac?" Nicole asked.

Van's eyes shot up. "Excuse me?"

"Was there a proposal?"

Everyone looked at Van, then at Isaac. A proposal? Maxie had never even thought to ask. "Van?" Isaac said.

With a one-shoulder shrug, she replied, "Sure. Of course. Not a big one."

"But he got down on one knee?"

Isaac never looked away from Van. Neither did Maxie.

"Yeah. Well, no. He just asked. He said he loved me and I make him happy and he wants to spend the rest of his life returning the favor."

"Oh. Wow," Nicole said, smiling. "That's very sweet, Isaac."

"Very," Tony piped up. "Like something straight out of a movie."

Maxie couldn't help but agree. Again, Van shrugged. "Well, it was enough for me. He could have slid me a note that said 'Marry me? Circle yes or no', and I would have said yes."

"Of course," Nicole said. "It's the love that counts."

Beaming, Van reached for Isaac's hand and squeezed it. He was still staring at her, his expression blank. The tension around the table was so thick Maxie felt as if she could barely breathe.

"So, Kathy," Victor said after another short stint of silence. "I really want to thank you."

Without even looking up at him, Kathy asked, "Thank me for what?"

"For taking care of Maxie for so long. She's grown up beautifully, and I owe a lot of that to you."

Finally raising her eyes to him, Kathy replied, "You don't have to _thank_ me, Victor. I wasn't dog-sitting for you. I raised your child. I put her through college. I supported her. I _still_ support her. I love her as much as my own daughter, she _is_ my daughter. So don't _thank_ me, because we weren't doing you any favors. It was all for Maxie. And for us."

Everyone at the table fell silent. Van smirked, Maxie glared at Kathy. _Of course_. Had she expected something different? Slowly nodding, Victor said, "You're right. You're absolutely right. _Still_. Thank you." He looked at his daughter. "So I know we've done some catching up but I feel like there's so much more. I still can't believe you're not dancing anymore."

"Now _that_ was not my doing," Kathy pointed out.

Ignoring her, Maxie explained, "I'm more passionate about cooking. And I've really been learning a lot about the industry from my job at the restaurant. My boss has sort of taken me under his wing. He even uses some of my recipes for the Sunday night special sometimes."

"That's amazing, Max. You've always been a great cook."

"She's an even better dancer. Now she ruined herself with all of those tattoos. No dance company would want her even if she tried. And working as a _waitress_. Who _chooses_ to wait tables?"

"Someone who wants to own a restaurant," Maxie snapped back.

Kathy rolled her eyes. Slowly but surely Maxie was starting to forget why she wanted everyone together in the first place. "I don't think she's _ruined_ ," Victor said.

"Well, Victor, the last time you saw Maxie, she was a child. You have no idea how beautiful she was before she chopped off all of her hair and branded herself."

"She's still beautiful," he said.

Kathy's eyes widened, she slammed her hands down on the table. "Don't you _dare_ do that!" she lashed out. "Don't you dare make me out to be the bad guy!" Nicole raised her palms to an outraged Kathy.

"No one is trying to make you out to be anything. He's just proud of his daughter—"

" _My_ daughter."

Nicole narrowed her eyes. "Why are you so hostile? Can't you see we're just trying to set things right?"

"It's too late for that!" Van piped up.

"According to who?" Nicole asked. "Because Maxie seems perfectly happy with the idea of starting over. If she's open to it, why shouldn't _you_ be? Who suffered more over the years because of her father's actions? You or her?"

Neither Van nor Kathy replied. Of course, they were _meant_ to say Maxie. But she knew they suffered, too. They suffered because of her. Then Tony spoke. "We _all_ suffered. Aren't you wondering where _my_ father is? Ask Maxie."

"Tony don't," Kathy said, shaking her head as she massaged her temples.

"Why the hell not? It's on the tip of all of our tongues. Dad is gone because of _her_. So yeah, _Victor_ ," he said, whirling around to face Maxie's father. "Don't walk in here looking down on _us_ , because we've _all_ suffered. The day you dumped Maxie on us, you changed _all_ of our lives."

Victor frowned and looked from Kathy to Maxie, who had shrunk down into her seat, red faced. "I don't understand," he said. "What happened?"

"It doesn't matter," Kathy said with the wave of a hand. "Tony, stop it. It's over. In fact, I think it's safe to say this dinner is over."

But no, Tony wasn't finished. Nowhere close to finished. "You can spare her feelings as much as you want but I'm done with that," he went on. "She's not _my_ sister. She's not _my_ family." He rose from the table, glaring down at her. "She's a fucking slut."

Maxie's mouth fell agape, Isaac's chair went out, Victor was already on his feet. "Hey! Watch your mouth! I don't care what's gone down in the last few years, she's still my daughter!" he bellowed, jabbing a finger at Tony. "I've been real nice to you people—"

"Us people? You mean the people who took in your daughter when you just up and fucking left her?"

Kathy stood up next, placed a calming hand on Tony's shoulder. "Enough. It's time to go."

"Is this what you've been dealing with all of this time?" Victor asked Maxie. "I'm even more sorry than I thought."

"Why don't you ask us what _we've_ been dealing with?" Tony shot back. Maxie raised her hands to her face as Van joined her mother in calming her brother. "She tried to seduce my father, and then she lied about it!"

Everyone froze. Victor, Nicole. Isaac, Van, Kathy. Finally, Maxie rose from her seat, eyes welling, and turned to leave the room. Isaac reached out and stopped her. "Don't go anywhere," he said. "You know that's not true. Defend yourself."

She looked up at him with defeat in her eyes. "No," she said, barely audibly. How many times would she have to defend herself? After so many years, if Kathy and Van and Tony didn't believe the truth, they never would.

"Who the hell are you?" Tony yelled, jerking away from his mother and storming around the table. "How would _you_ know the truth? You _don't_. But I can see why you're so quick to go to her defense. Because the same stunt she pulled on my father is the stunt she's pulling on you!"

"Tony, _no_ ," Van said firmly.

" _Yes_! And you're too stupid to see it happening right under your nose, Van! Or maybe you just don't _want_ to see it." He glared at her. "You don't want to admit that you turned against Dad only to find out you were wrong. Only for her to turn around and do the same exact thing again, this time to _your_ boyfriend!"

"Stop it," Isaac said.

But it seemed as if Tony was only getting started. After years of sitting silently, brooding to himself, expressing none of what he was obviously thinking. How long did they all think it would be before it all boiled to the surface? "She's a fucking liar and a manipulator and a con artist!"

"Shut your mouth," Isaac warned.

"Why? Is it because the truth hurts? Did she make you feel _special_ or something? News flash, Isaac, you're _not_ special. Maxie, the victim; Maxie, that everyone is supposed to bow to because her life was so hard, is just a lying, two-faced, _whore_ —"

His words were swiftly cut short. It happened so quickly, so _smoothly_ , if anyone had blinked, they would have missed it. One solid blow from Isaac sent Tony crumbling to the floor. His eyes rolled to the back of his head. His body convulsed a bit. He was out _cold_. "Oh, my God!" Kathy shrieked, rushing to her son's side.

Van stood there, both hands over her mouth, staring down at Tony in horror. Victor and Nicole were gathering their belongings. Isaac remained as calm as ever, staring down at Tony's limp body hatefully. And Maxie stood silently in a daze, wavering lightly on her feet.

"I'm sorry, Maxie," Victor said. "This was a mistake. You have my number, though. I want you to call me."

She peered at him, shaking her head, but she had no words. In fact, he seemed far away. They all did. How had the night gone so _horribly_ wrong? All she'd wanted to do was make things right. She stood back as Victor and Nicole left the apartment while Kathy and Van tried to revive Tony. "I think we need to take him to the hospital," Kathy said.

Van looked up at Isaac, desperately. "You really hurt him!" she cried, but when Maxie turned to him, his eyes were on her. Inhaling deeply, she looked away and started for the door. She needed to get out of the apartment. She needed to get away from everyone. Why had she even gone back? She should have just stayed away. "Max!" Van called after her.

"Just let her go," Kathy snapped.

Maxie left.

Bea was out with Avery. Their first date.

It was movie night for Charlie and Milla. Maxie's idea, so she certainly couldn't interrupt.

Instead, she simply walked. The night air was thick and, despite the light haze of rain, warm. It was turning out to be quite a beautiful summer. Maxie only wished it was her life Mother Nature dictated, along with the weather.

Why had she thought they would all be able to put the past behind them? Why had she thought moving forward could ever be a possibility? When did Kathy _ever_ move forward? She held onto everything, Every single thing. And Maxie knew that better than anyone. So _why_ had she thought something like this, something like her _father_ , would be any different?

She found herself in front of Vince's building as the rain began to pick up. Inside, she knocked on his door. When he answered, his eyes widened. "Holy shit," he said, stepping into the hall and shutting the door behind him. "I thought you were the pizza guy."

"Well, I'm not. I am soaking wet and kind of cold, though. Can I come in?"

"Actually," he said, frowning, "I have company right now, Max. A girl. A girl I've been begging to give me a chance for about six months. This is it. My chance."

Maxie shivered, though she didn't know if it was her body responding to the building's air conditioning, or the icy chill of rejection. "Oh," she said, taking a small step back.

"Of course."

"I'm sorry, Max. You get it right? She's...she's special."

"Of course," Maxie repeated. "Yeah. I get it. Have a good night then."

"Cool. You, too," he said. "See you."

With that, he went back into the apartment.

For a while, Maxie stood in the lobby of his building, staring out into the rain that fell like a curtain over the night. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out into it and almost immediately, she was soaked through and through. Still, she trudged slowly through the downpour, wondering what was happening at her apartment, if Tony was alright, if Van was having it out with Isaac, if Kathy was having it out with Isaac.

Isaac.

Before her brain could comprehend what she was doing, her legs carried her to the subway where she boarded a train toward the last safe place she could think of.

When Gnar answered his door, his eyes widened with surprise. Standing before him was a shivering, dripping Maxie. "Max," he said. "Are you alright? What are you doing here?"

What was she doing there? What did she want? She didn't know anymore, yet laying eyes on Gnar brought her comfort that felt like warmth against her chilled, clammy skin. "I just..." She shrugged. "I wanted to say hi."

A smile unfolded on his lips and he stepped aside. "Come in," he said. "You're soaked."

She stepped inside and stopped short upon finding a girl sitting on his couch, a glass of wine in hand. The girl recoiled, probably as shocked to see Maxie as Maxie was to see her. "Oh," Maxie said looking at Gnar. "You have company, too."

"Yeah," he said. "This is Lauren. Lauren, this is Maxie."

Maxie reached out to shake the girl's hand. She was pretty—tall, perfect hair, flawless makeup, much like the model type Elanna had been referring to. Maybe Elanna hadn't been wrong about Gnar, after all. Maybe he _did_ like models. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I should have called. I'll go, alright?" She turned to the door, unable to meet Gnar's eyes. "Have a good night."

"Wait," he said, stopping her. "Don't go." Glancing at the baffled girl on his couch, he added, "I mean, you can't go. It's pouring out. Just go dry off." He motioned toward his bedroom. "I'll just be a minute."

As she retreated to his room, she could hear Lauren say, "You cannot be serious."

A few minutes later, he joined Maxie in the room as promised. She'd helped herself to his bathroom and a towel. Her wet clothes hung on the shower rod. "So," he said, leaning back against his dresser and crossing his arms over his chest. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She shrugged. "I told you, I just wanted to say hi."

He narrowed his eyes. "C'mon, Max. What's going on?"

"You didn't have to do that," she said, still unable to look at him. But his scent was wrapped around her, covering every inch of her, and she couldn't take a breath without imagining herself in his arms. "Your company didn't have to leave."

"Forget it," he said with a light shrug.

Vince hadn't even let her inside. And why would he have? What respect did he owe her? Their relationship was what it was because _she_ had wanted it that way. Because she'd shunned emotion, rejected meaningful intimacy, gave him only a small part of herself and accepted as much in return. How _could_ he respect her? Her cheeks reddened with shame and she bowed her head.

Gnar sat beside her, pulled her against him. "Who else had company?" he said as she buried her head in his shoulder so he wouldn't see her tears.

"Vince," she admitted. "I shouldn't have gone over there looking for comfort in the first place. That isn't...it's not the nature of our relationship."

"He sent you back into the rain?" Gnar asked.

She looked up at him. "The family got together for dinner tonight. Van and Isaac, Kathy and Tony, and my father."

"Your father?"

"He called. He's _been_ calling. I finally spoke to him, saw him. He has a daughter, my _sister_. And a wife, Gnar. He's got an entire family."

Gnar's brows were knitted together, his hand moved gently up and down Maxie's back as she spoke. She could feel her body drifting toward him, into the curve of his arm, to the side of his chest. "How do you feel?"

She contemplated his question a moment before a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and more tears sprang forth. "So happy," she squeaked. "He's my _father_. He abandoned me, he _ruined_ me. And still, I'm just so glad he's back. He's different now. You should see him with Addison. The way he is with her, he was never that way with me. The way he looks at her, he never looked at me. And..." Her voice cracked. "And I don't care. I'm _happy_ for him. I'm happy he has someone to love enough. I'm happy that he still has enough love to give me."

"Then why are you crying?" he asked.

"Dinner," she admitted. "It was a disaster. Tony had a meltdown. Isaac hit him."

"Isaac _hit_ him?"

She told Gnar the whole story, from when Victor and Nicole arrived, to Tony's outburst, to her own swift departure. "You should have seen their faces," she concluded, her voice breaking. "You should have seen the way Kathy was looking at me."

She dropped her face in her hands and sobbed into her palms. "Oh, Max," was all Gnar said.

"Am I supposed to choose? Why can't I have them both?"

"It's a tough situation," said Gnar. "For everyone, I'm sure."

"Is it selfish of me to ask them to just...I don't know... _forgive_? If I can forgive, why can't they? Why can't Van and Kathy? Have I been _that_ much of a burden? Have they suffered so much because of me?"

"Maybe that isn't it. Maybe they just love you. Maybe they don't want to see him hurt you again."

"It's my decision. He's my _father_. If they loved me, they would support me. Hell, they would _pretend_ to support me. You had to be there, you had to see it. You had to hear the things Tony was saying." Slowly shaking her head, she said, "Kathy hates me as much as he does. She doesn't want to, she tries not to. But once in a while, I can _see_ it Gnar. I saw it tonight."

"Oh, Maxie," he repeated. "I'm sure that isn't true."

She nodded. "It is. Van, too. Even _Van_."

"I'm sure it's not what you think. Van? Van is always on your side, Max. She's the one that told, wasn't she? If she blamed you, she wouldn't have done that."

Maxie remembered the day Van had told Kathy the truth about Arnold. They had all been sitting around the table for dinner, and Van announced she'd been asked to prom by a senior boy. A 20-year-old senior boy. Arnold had practically laughed in her face when she asked to go.

' _Are you kidding me, Savannah?' he asks. 'No. No way. First of all, no 16-year-old of mine is going anywhere with a 20-year-old. And secondly, what the hell's a 20-year-old still doing in high school, anyway?'_

' _But Dad—'_

' _No,' he repeats, raising a hand to cut her off._

Maxie can see Van's face crumble in disappointment. She reddens, tears gather in her eyes. She was so excited earlier when he first asked. She practically skipped home, already talking about dress shopping and getting her makeup done. Now, she looks crushed. Completely crushed.

' _Mom?' she says, spinning in her seat to face Kathy. 'Will you please...?'_

' _I'm sorry, Savannah, I have to agree with your father on this one. The boy is too old. He isn't even a boy.'_

Then Van's expression changes. Her anguish melts into something else. Something darker. 'So a 20-year-old can't ask me to prom, but a 40-year-old can climb into bed with Maxie?'

Everyone at the table freezes.

Maxie's stomach drops. Her face instantly begins to burn. She can feel herself sinking down into her seat. She wants to sink down into the floor.

' _Excuse me?' Kathy hisses._

' _Van,' Arnold says carefully._

But it's too late. Pandora's box is open.

Later that evening, while Kathy and Arnold have it out in their bedroom above Van and Maxie's heads, Van says, 'He couldn't get away with doing that to you, Max. He just couldn't.'

Shaking her thoughts free of the memory, Maxie said, "I'm sure she regrets it."

"She doesn't regret it. I'm so sorry your dinner didn't go as planned. But these things take time. I'm here for you, though," he said, squeezing her hand. "Alright?" She nodded. "Since you ran my date out, maybe you'll stay and keep me company tonight?"

She smiled. "Well, I guess I don't have anywhere else to go."

He nodded. "I'll take the couch then," he said, rising to his feet.

"Alright," she replied, and reached for his hand. "But not yet."

#

NOW

Bea seemed as surprised to find Maxie with Gnar as Maxie was to find Bea with Avery. It was already late in the morning, but there he was sitting on Bea's couch, still wearing his clothes from the evening before.

"It was raining," Bea explained when Maxie raised an eyebrow at her. She nodded at Gnar. "And you?"

Maxie shrugged. "It was raining."

With a small grin, Bea replied, "Fair enough. How was dinner?"

Maxie could feel her smile melt from her mouth. Bea frowned. "Smoke?"

Sighing, she said, "Yes, please."

Leaving Gnar and Avery to a conversation in the living room, Bea and Maxie went out onto the balcony where Bea lit a joint. "So tell me," she said. "How terrible was it?"

For the second time, Maxie relayed the events of the previous evening. "He was completely out," she said of Tony, shaking her head as she inhaled deeply from the joint.

"It was almost _scary_."

A smile tugged at the corners of Bea's lips. She bowed her head, raised her hand to her mouth, but soon her shoulders were shaking with laughter. Maxie stared at her, dumbfounded. "What's so funny?" she demanded.

"You mean to tell me," she said through her own hilarity, "that Isaac punching Tony in the face isn't the funniest thing you've ever witnessed?" She threw her head back in mirth. "I just wish I could've seen Van and Kathy's faces! I bet Kathy nearly shit herself."

With that, Maxie giggled. "They wanted to take him to the hospital," she said.

Bea laughed even harder, and soon, Maxie joined her. For a while, they sat red faced and hysterical, until Maxie's stomach ached and tears streaked Bea's face. Breathless, Bea reached out and placed a comforting hand on Maxie's shoulder. "Don't let it get you down, Maxie. At least you have your dad back. You can't please everyone."

Nodding, Maxie leaned her head back against the window behind her. "When I was fourteen, I cooked my first real, big dinner. It was for my father's birthday."

_Maxie sits across the table from Victor, watching intently as he takes the first bite and chews, slowly and deliberately. It's his favorite lasagna, the kind his mother made him as a kid. Maxie had found the recipe in one of her grandmother's old cookbooks and knew it would be perfect for her father's birthday_.

Accompanying the lasagna, Maxie baked garlic bread, tossed a large salad, and served it all with tomato bruschetta. An Italian feast, her mother called it. Noelle had even bought his favorite wine.

After what seems like an eternity, Victor nods. 'Not bad,' he says. 'Maybe ease up on the salt next time.'

He only finishes half of his plate before leaving the table to retire to bed. Maxie remains there, staring at her own plate, at the entire dinner she'd wasted the whole day preparing. 'Don't cry, Maximilienne,' Noelle says. 'You can't please everyone.'

Taking one last long, deep pull of the joint, Maxie said, "Here I am, nearly ten years later, still trying. And her?" She scoffed. "She killed herself two weeks later."

Bea said nothing. What _was_ there to say? Finally, Maxie asked, "So. About Avery."

"About _Gnar_ ," she countered.

"I didn't know where else to go," Maxie admitted. "I've been so lost, Bea. But Gnar. He just keeps finding me."

"Did you guys...?"

"No!" Maxie cried. "No, Bea. And we're not going to. We're friends."

Bea shook her head. "He's in love with you, Maxie. And maybe if you'd stop running from him, you'd realize that you're falling in love with him, too."

When Avery offered to show Bea where he would be choreographing _The Good Girls_ , Maxie and Gnar tagged along. The theatre was old and grand, and could fit an audience Maxie had only ever dreamed of dancing for.

She stood in the middle of the stage, looking out into the hundreds upon hundreds of empty seats. She imagined them all full of standing, cheering spectators. "You're telling me you don't want to dance on this stage, Maxie?" Avery asked. "My offer still stands."

"What offer?" Bea asked.

"They're looking for a second choreographer for the show," Avery said. "Maxie would be perfect. We've always been a good team. Hey, Max," he said. "Remember the last show? Remember the applause?"

Maxie let her eyes drift shut. How could she forget it?

"The room exploded," Avery told Bea. "Every single person in the audience was standing. Whistling. Yelling our names. Remember, Max?"

"I remember," she said.

"That piece had been a Maxie Shannen original. The first and last. It just seems like such a shame to deprive the world of your work."

"It's not that much of a shame," she said. "The world will have yours."

"I guess I must have really missed out," said Gnar. "I never got to see any of your shows, Max."

Opening her eyes, she shrugged. "If you've seen me dance once, you've seen me dance a hundred times."

"That's not true," Avery objected. "When she was up on stage, in the spotlight, she was like a different person. Hey, how 'bout we show him?" he suggested. He turned to Bea and Gnar. "What do you say? Would you like an encore of Max's choreographic debut?"

"No," Maxie said, taking a step back. "Avery, no. I can't. I'm not even wearing the right clothes."

"Neither am I," he said. "C'mon, I remember every step so I know you do, too. Gnar, Bea. Go grab a seat, front row. Max, we're on Broadway!"

She laughed, still shaking her head, but as Bea and Gnar went to get seats in the audience, she knew the decision was already made. She was going to dance.

"I think I have the song on my MP3 player," Avery said, pulling the small device from his pocket. "Wait here, I'm going to go hit the music."

He disappeared backstage and Maxie turned to Bea and Gnar. Gnar stared back at her, leaning forward in his seat, his gaze swallowing her whole. Reddening, she took a step back, but alone on the grand, empty stage, there was nowhere to hide. She shifted uncomfortably, tugging at the hem of her romper.

A moment later, the music started and Avery came jogging back on stage. "Ready?" he asked positioning himself. On cue, he began to move and Maxie followed suit. When she'd first taught him the piece, she'd told him to think of it as a romantic game of cat and mouse. It involved her chasing him, and then him chasing her and, when they'd first performed the piece, they'd even had a small, heart-shaped beanbag, to represent their own hearts, being passed back and forth between them throughout the routine.

Maxie was all too familiar with the so-called romantic game of cat and mouse, with stealing hearts and having hearts stolen. She lost herself in the routine, imagining that Avery wasn't Avery at all, but instead Isaac as she jumped on his back in desperation, drew close to his face as if she would kiss him, crawled at his feet and clawed at his ankles as if to beg him to take her. And sometimes she saw Gnar's face, or Alex's even, when she ran from him, stole the heart from his hands and then threw it back at him, only to steal it again.

As the piece concluded, Maxie in Avery's arms, her legs wrapped around his chest, their foreheads pressed together, Avery smiled. Lowering to the floor, she fell into his embrace. Both Bea and Gnar got to their feet to applaud. Raising their arms, Maxie and Avery took a bow.

Gnar's eyes, full of yearning, never left her.

When Maxie returned to the apartment that evening, Isaac was in the kitchen making himself lunch. "Peanut butter sandwiches," Maxie said. "Of course."

Taking a large bite out of one, he smiled. "It's the only thing I eat when you're not here to feed me, Max." He offered it to her but she hesitated. "Don't worry, Van already left for work. It's okay for us to speak to each other." With a sigh, she took a bite of the sandwich. "How mad is she?"

He sighed. "Pretty mad."

"And Kathy and Tony?"

Rolling his eyes, he said, "When _aren't_ one of them upset about something?"

"Thanks for taking up for me. Once again."

"You don't need to thank me, Maximilienne," he said.

Pulling herself up to sit on the counter beside him, she said, "I was with Avery today. My friend from NYSPA."

He nodded. "I remember him from the club."

"You've seen him before that, you know. At one of my shows," she said.

' _That first guy you danced with looked a little nervous,' Isaac says of Avery._

Maxie chuckles. 'Avery? No, Avery's a great dancer.'

' _I was a little jealous when he touched your butt.'_

She looks up at him, wide-eyed. 'He didn't touch my butt!' she cries.

' _Yeah, he did. When he picked you up.'_

_She laughs and playfully shoves him. Of course, he doesn't even move. 'He didn't_ touch my butt _. He was lifting me.'_

_Leaning close to her, Isaac pulls her tightly against him. '_ I _want to lift you.'_

Isaac showed no sign of recognition so Maxie continued. "He wants me to help choreograph a Broadway show."

Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? That sounds pretty exciting." Maxie shrugged. "You don't think so?"

"I don't know. It just didn't move me like an opportunity like that should."

"Then don't do it."

"I already told him no. Do you think I should do it?"

"Not if you don't want to. Do you want to?"

She shook her head. "No. Not that I _love_ being a waitress, but my boss is already talking about training me to do some of the managerial work. I'll need to know this stuff, you know? For my own restaurant." He shoved the rest of his sandwich in his mouth and grabbed Maxie's half-eaten one from her hands. "There's a whole plate right here," she snapped.

He grinned. Flushing pink, she grabbed another one from the plate. "If you don't want to take the job, Max, don't take it. No one even has to know about it."

"Yeah," she said. "You're right."

"I'm sure you'd be awesome if you _did_ take it, though. The last routine you choreographed was amazing. Or maybe it was just your dancing that made it amazing."

She stopped chewing the mouthful of sandwich. Her eyes went wide. "The last one?"

"Yeah. Right before you graduated. Remember? You were wearing that little skimpy, black thing. It looked like you'd just wrapped yourself in rags—"

"Oh, my God," she breathed. "You _saw_ that?"

He nodded and paused to remember. "I remember watching you. I couldn't stop looking at your face, at your expression."

He raised his eyes to her. She was staring at him, her own eyes full. "You weren't supposed to be at that show," she choked out.

"What do you mean?"

"That was my last show before I graduated. You planned on coming but Van had a fashion show so you—" And then she remembered. They'd argued. He hadn't gone to Van's show. Maxie never asked him where he'd ended up instead.

"What?" he asked.

"I just can't believe you were there," she said. "All this time, I thought you'd missed it." She laughed. It seemed to just slip right out of her. "God, Isaac. You were..." _Everything._ He was absolutely _everything_.

"Well, it was a great piece, Max."

She smiled. "I have something for you," she said. "I was going to wait to give it to you, with Van upset and all. But what the hell?"

"What is it?" he asked. Again, he took the half eaten sandwich from Maxie's hand and consumed the rest of it with one large bite. She glared at him and he simply grinned. She had to look away.

Lowering herself off the counter, she went to her room. When she returned she was holding a cookbook. She gave it to Isaac. "A new one?" he asked.

"Hot off the press," she said.

He examined the cover and gasped. "Max," he said. "This is _yours._ "

She smiled widely. "The very first copy," she said excitedly. "Look, I even signed it."

He opened the front cover and sure enough, there was her autograph across the shiny page. "This is amazing," he said, flipping through. Many of the recipes he'd seen before, tasted himself. It was almost surreal looking at them in a real, legitimate cookbook that he could have picked up at a bookstore. "This is for me?" he asked.

She lowered her gaze and nodded. "Yeah. No one encouraged me more than you did. I couldn't think of anyone better to give it to." Still smiling, he brought his gaze back to her and let it linger on her face. "What?" she asked. "Are you proud of me, Isaac?"

Carefully setting it down on the counter, he reached for her and pulled her in a tight hug. She inhaled sharply, taken aback by the sudden increase in their proximity. She hadn't been so close to him in such a long time, she'd almost forgot what the warmth of his chest against hers felt like. "Thank you, Maxie," he said.

But she couldn't reply. She could barely even breathe.

THEN

A week passed. Two weeks. A month. Three months. No word from Isaac. No calls. No late night visits. No _nothing_. It was as if after that night, after that horrid graduation dinner, he'd just disappeared. And Maxie knew it was her fault. _I'm done_ , she'd said. And he'd warned her that she would regret it. How right he was. How painfully right.

She felt empty without him. Like someone took her heart right out of her chest, and left her with nothing but a vacant space to live with. She couldn't smile, she couldn't laugh. She barely wanted to wake up in the morning. When had she begun waking up to see him? She wasn't sure, but since the anticipation to lay eyes on him left her, she began sleeping later. Going to bed earlier. It seemed that was the only time she wasn't hurting. When she was sleeping. It seemed like her dreams were the only place to see him again.

Van moped around, just as miserably. Maxie often woke in the morning to find her friend lying on the couch, where she'd cried herself to sleep the night before. At night, she could hear Van sobbing into Isaac's voicemail, begging him to return. She never ate breakfast, she seldom ate dinner. The only time she ever left the house was to work. And at work she drank. Drank herself into a stupor before coming home and passing out.

They were pathetic, those two. Both losing themselves over a man who didn't so much as pick up the phone to check on either of them. Especially Maxie. She was hurting to her soul, and she couldn't even share it with anyone. While Van cried openly at the table when they ate, Maxie suffered inwardly. She kept her mouth shut, kept her tears back, expressed _nothing_. Not until she was alone, at least. And then she would quietly drain herself of all the pain that had been building inside her the whole day.

She smoked openly, though. That was a bit of a relief. In front of Van, in front of Alex. Even in front of Kathy and Tony. Joint after joint, cigarette after cigarette, keeping her in a constant state of high. Why not? They all looked down at her, disapprovingly, but so what? They _already_ looked down on her disapprovingly. She couldn't imagine they could think any less of her.

After all, she graduated college and turned down the job of a lifetime. And then she drove away the love of Van's life. She turned her back on her family to go with him and then what? Then he _left_ and never looked back. And _poor Van_. What was she left with?

Van barely spoke to Maxie. She barely looked at her. And Maxie was okay with that. There was nothing but resentment and bitterness in her eyes when she did. _Go ahead, turn away from me_ , Maxie wanted to tell her. _Never look at me again. I can live the rest of my life without your eyes on me._

"Maybe you should try talking to her," Alex said one night. "She's just hurting, you know? I'm sure she could use a shoulder to cry on. Just comfort her, Max."

Comfort her? Comfort _her_? Maxie couldn't comfort herself, how was she to comfort someone else? She didn't bother trying to explain this to Alex, though. If he thought she couldn't see the way he looked at her, with the same judgment in his eyes as everyone else, he was highly mistaken. She'd lost him, too, somewhere along the line. Once upon a time, Alex belonged to _her_. But that time had passed.

One evening, as Maxie prepared dinner, Alex and Van sat at the table, Van actually laughing. Maxie had almost forgotten what her friend's laughter sounded like, so she listened for a while. Listened as they talked and joked and carried on. "...and I had a photo shoot with this one girl," Alex said. "Carrey Newton, I'm sure you've heard of her."

"Yes! The really skinny, really awkward girl!"

Alex rolled his eyes. "Awkward is an understatement. I know awkwardness is, like, her _thing_. But the girl is just plain stupid. She's not awkward, she's just _dumb_. And she takes horrible photos!"

"Tell me about it!" Van agreed. "She looks like a corpse in her pictures, just standing there with that white skin and those big eyes."

They laughed. "I heard she's done a lot of sleeping around to get where she is now, though," Alex said. "Apparently she isn't so awkward in the bedroom."

"Ugh, let's not talk about sex," Van said. "I'm so horny, it's not even funny."

Alex chuckled. "Tell me about it. Hey, Max, what about you? Do virgins get horny?" Maxie paused, dropping the baster she'd been moistening the roast with.

Lowering her head, Maxie shut her eyes. She wasn't a virgin anymore, but no, she didn't get horny. Sex was the _least_ of her worries. To just _see_ Isaac. To just hear his voice. For one small kiss, Maxie would have given the world. Sex? She didn't care about _sex_. Making love to Isaac was only an added bonus to having him. His love was the ultimate prize, though, and Maxie lost that.

Before she knew it, she was sobbing. Her shoulders heaved, her nose ran, her tears fell in thick drops onto their dinner. She stood at the stove, her head bent, her hand over her face, crying like a baby. Van and Alex exchanged dumbfounded glances before Alex rose from his seat and went to her. "Babe," he said, placing his hand over her shoulder, but she quickly slapped it away and stormed out of the kitchen. "Babe!" he called after her. "I'm sorry, it was just a joke!"

But she cared nothing about his stupid joke. All she cared about was Isaac.

That night, Maxie's bedroom door opened while she lay in bed and Van crept inside, slipping under the blankets beside her friend. "Max," she whispered. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Maxie lied.

Van sighed. "I'm sorry about earlier. Do you feel better?"

"Yes." Another lie.

"I'm sorry about the way I've been acting, Max. I've been blaming you for Isaac breaking up with me, but it's just hard for me to admit that it really _is_ my fault. After that night at dinner, when I just sat back while my mom _attacked_ you. No wonder he's so disgusted in me. I don't think I'd want to be with a person like me, either. I just... I _miss_ him, Max. I miss him _so much_."

"I know, Van." She knew. She knew better then Van could even comprehend.

"I call him almost every day, you know. I leave him voicemails, send him text messages. I've even _emailed_ him. He doesn't want to hear any apologies or explanations. He's just _done_ with me."

Maxie squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry, Van."

"Don't be sorry. It isn't your fault. I know I've been blaming you, but it really isn't your fault. I think our relationship has been coming to this for a while now. Before we broke up, we hadn't slept together in...I don't even want to tell you how long it was. He just wouldn't even _touch_ me." Maxie shut her eyes tightly, so relieved and so dismayed all at once. "What about you?" she asked. "Alex still doesn't know the truth, huh? Are you ever going to tell him about the other guy you're seeing? Your _mystery_ guy?"

"I'm not seeing him anymore, Van. That's over."

Van gasped. "Why? I thought you two were going strong."

"We were," she said. "But he's not around anymore."

"What happened?"

Maxie shrugged. "He was tired of sharing me," she said. "He wanted more from me than I was willing to give. He finally gave up on me, I suppose."

"Oh, Max," Van said. "I'm so sorry. It sounds like we're in the same boat, huh?"

"Yeah. I guess we are."

Van hugged her, kissed her curls. "Well, how was it anyway? Was he good, Max? We can talk about it now, right?"

"He was the _best_ , Van. I haven't been with anyone else, but I just _know_ he was the best."

She sighed. "That's how I felt about Isaac. In the beginning, when we were still doing it, anyway. And I _have_ been with other guys, so I know for a fact he was the best." Maxie said nothing. "Did you really care about this guy?" Van asked.

"Yes."

"Did you love him?"

She shrugged. "What does it matter now? He's gone. And Isaac is gone. So maybe we should just stop talking about it."

"And thinking about it."

"Yes, and thinking about it," Maxie replied, and she shut her eyes, knowing she could _never_ stop thinking about him.

Despite the promise to one another to start moving on, Van woke Maxie up one morning on the verge of tears. "I can't take this," she said. "I just need to speak to him. I just need him to hear me out!"

"Van," Maxie said, sitting up. "I know it hurts but—"

"It more than hurts, Maxie! You just don't know!"

She knew.

"I can't sleep."

Can't eat.

"I can't think."

Can't breathe.

"I miss him so much it _hurts_."

Physically hurts. Like a fist, squeezing her heart into nothingness.

"If I can confront him in person, he'll have no choice but to listen, right?"

Maxie shrugged. "Maybe."

"Will you take me to his gym? I'll do it there. I'll beg him to just listen to me."

"I don't know, Van."

"Please, Maxie, I just need to try. I can't move on until I know I've tried everything. _Please_."

"I understand. I'll tell you how to get there," she suggested. "You can go on your own."

Shaking her head, Van said, "I can't. I need you to come with me. For moral support. To make sure I go through with it. To hold my hand in case..." Her voice trailed off but Maxie knew what she was going to say. In case he turned her away. Rejected her. That same possibility is what kept Maxie from going to the gym herself.

"Fine," Maxie conceded. "But I'm staying outside. Out of sight."

Throwing her arms around her friend, Van gushed, "Thank you! Thank you, thank you!"

They dressed and boarded a train to Brooklyn. The ride was long and silent, neither of them speaking, not even looking at one another, though their fingers stayed braided together until they reached their destination. They walked to the front of the Brass Knuckles Boxing Gym and stared at it a moment. "He's in there," Van said.

"Probably," Maxie replied.

Van frowned. "Oh, my God. You're right. What if he's _not_ in there?"

"He's in there, Van," Maxie said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Just go. It'll be fine."

Nodding, Van took a deep breath and crossed the street to the entrance of Isaac's gym. Maxie watched as she disappeared inside. Would he listen to her? At least hear her out? Maybe he would even come back.

_No_ , Maxie quickly snapped at herself. If she could only get past the worst part, _this_ part, she assumed, then maybe it would get easier. Maybe she would be able to get past him, forget him even. Forget that she'd ever turned on her best friend.

When the doors to the gym swung open, Maxie exhaled sharply. She realized she'd been holding her breath that entire time. Van stumbled out, her expression contorted with anguish. She spun around just as Isaac stepped out behind her.

Maxie's stomach leapt. The sight of him, so close yet so far away. He looked as handsome as he had the last time she'd laid eyes on him—and just as angry, too. He leaned close to Van, his brows furrowed, his lips moving fast. Maxie could tell by the look on Van's face that whatever he was saying certainly wasn't what she'd been hoping for. The sides of her mouth were turned down, tears welled in her eyes.

As Isaac turned away from her, Van reached out and took him by the hand. "Please!" Maxie heard her cry. "Isaac!"

Isaac snatched his hand away, shoving Van back as he did so. _Go!_ he said. Maxie couldn't hear the word but she saw it on his lips, in his eyes, in his finger as he pointed in the direction opposite the gym. Defeated, Van dropped her head and at last made her way back across the street. For a moment, Isaac watched her, and then he raised his gaze and met Maxie's.

Her heart was racing, she thought her knees would buckle at any moment. Isaac's eyes softened as they remained on Maxie, yet his chin stayed raised and his jaw stayed taut. He didn't move from the spot he was standing, didn't motion to her at all. Not even a blink.

"Oh, Max," Van said, falling into Maxie's arms and breaking down. Maxie held her as she wept into the curve of her neck. "He's really finished with me," Van sobbed. "He wouldn't even hear me out, he's just _finished_ with me!"

Maxie held Isaac's gaze a moment longer over Van's shoulder before gathering her friend and prodding her toward the subway. "Let's just go home," she said, struggling to keep her voice strong.

"He _yelled_ at me," Van whimpered. "He yelled at me for showing up and told me not to come back. That was it. He didn't even care. We're _done_ , Maxie."

Biting down on her bottom lip to hold back her own tears, Maxie shot one last glance in Isaac's direction, only to find he'd disappeared back into the building.

#

NOW

"Look," Maxie said, "this one is right on the river."

Bea leaned over Maxie's shoulder to look at the computer screen. Maxie had pulled up photos of a small apartment. "Wow. It looks really open and airy," said Bea.

"There's a patio, and an island in the kitchen. And look at this view!"

"So you're really considering this, huh? Moving to France."

"I've already been accepted to the culinary school I applied to. I'll be ready to go just in time to start next semester." She sighed, imagining herself packing up her room in the apartment, saying goodbye to Bea, to Charlie and Milla, to her father and Nicole and Addison, to Gnar, and Kathy and Tony, and Van. Saying goodbye to Isaac.

She would feel sad for a while. She would miss them all. Maybe she would even feel loneliness, remorse. But then she would find a new apartment, a new job. She would make new friends, maybe lifelong ones. She would explore the country, take a thousand photos, make a whole new cookbook just from what she'd learn at her new school, and then maybe she would go somewhere else. England. Italy.

She would never look back at the past. She would return fully restored and looking only toward the future.

"Maybe I will take the job with Avery," she said, thoughtfully. "I could make triple the money I'd make at the restaurant. Then I would never even have to _think_ of dance if I didn't want to."

"I'm sure he'd be happy to have you on board. He even asked me to try to convince you."

Maxie chuckled and shook her head. "He doesn't need me. He'll do great. I've seen some of his work. Whoever hired him knew what they were doing."

"But you're great, too, Max. And together. I can't lie, there's a lot of chemistry there." Maxie turned to Bea, whose eyes were averted. "When I saw you two on stage together..."

"That was on stage," Maxie said. Bea nodded. "Bea? You know that right? Stage chemistry and real chemistry are two very different things."

With a sigh, Bea sat down beside Maxie. "I need to ask you something, and I want you to be completely honest, okay? Do you like him?"

Maxie sighed, her eyes drifting shut as she shook her head. "This is it for me, isn't it? I will forever be dubbed a man-stealing whore."

"What? _No,_ Max, God no. I just want to make sure. Because...because _I_ like him. I _really_ like him. But you know my luck with men. Everyone I ever like is married or has secret children or something. Sometimes Avery just seems too good to be true."

"Bea, I swear. I _swear_ I feel absolutely nothing for Avery, and he feels absolutely nothing for me. And as far as I know, he isn't married and he has no secret children. He's a good guy."

"Alright," Bea said.

"Do you believe me?"

"Why wouldn't I believe you?"

"You know why," she said, rolling her eyes. "Every relationship I'm in is triangular."

Bea laughed. "I trust you. Your situation with Isaac is complicated, Max, but I don't think it defines you."

"Well, that makes one of you. Listen, Avery's really sweet, _so_ talented, and he'll probably be famous after this show hits Broadway. And to top it all off, he's crazy about you."

Bea smiled. "Well, I guess that's great because honestly, I'm a little crazy about him, too."

* * *

Taking a deep breath, Van raised her eyes to Isaac and smiled. "...You make me _so_ happy," she said. " _Thank_ you. And thank you for allowing me to spend the rest of my life returning the favor." With a wide grin, she asked, "How was that? Do you think I should take your hand after the first 'thank you', or is that too much?"

Isaac scoffed, not looking away from the television. "Popular line, isn't it?"

Van's brows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"Rest of my life returning the favor? Isn't that what I said when I proposed?"

"Oh," she said. "Yeah. I guess it is." With a sigh, she dropped the sheet of paper she'd drafted her vows on and plopped down on the couch. "Well, I won't make anyone cry using recycled lines."

"You're trying to make someone cry?"

"I'm trying to make _everyone_ cry," she informed him. "I want the entire room to be overcome with emotion by how beautiful and genuine and deep our love is."

Isaac couldn't help but laugh. "So you're writing vows for the audience? Jesus, Van."

"Haven't you started yours?"

He scoffed. " _I'm_ not going to write vows for the audience. I don't really care if our superficial vows overcome anyone with our _genuine_ love."

With a shrug, she said, "Write them for me then."

He turned his attention back to the television. "I wouldn't know what to say."

"Just speak from your heart," she said, moving closer to him. "Just say what you feel." Nudging him, she said, "Go ahead."

"What? _Now_?"

"Let me just hear something."

Rolling his eyes, he turned to her. "Ah. Alright." Thinking a moment, he said, "I love you, Van, and I promise to, umm..." He shrugged. "Love you forever."

"That's it?"

"I don't know—"

"How do you not know? Say what you feel, Isaac. Do you not know what you _feel_?"

"I _said_ I love you."

"Well, do I make you happy? Do I give you butterflies? Do you miss me when I'm away? Do you think about me non-stop? This is your chance to say all of those things! They're true, aren't they?"

Before he could reply, Maxie's bedroom door opened and she stepped out into the living room. She barely noticed Van and Isaac in the living room as she made her way to the kitchen, but Isaac couldn't tear his eyes away from her, dressed in an airy, white sundress with her hair down and her full lips colored a pale shade of pink.

He'd seen her in that dress before. Except the last time, she'd been wet. Dripping wet. The thin fabric had been clinging to her curves, he'd been able to see her bare skin right through it.

"Where are you off to?" Van asked Maxie, the sound of her voice cutting through his vague memory.

"Gnar is making dinner," she replied.

Isaac's insides contorted. "Gnar _?_ You're seeing Gnar again?"

"Is that why you're so dressed up?" Van asked, grinning.

"I'm not dressed up. And I'm not _seeing_ him. It's just dinner."

"I bet," Van mumbled, still grinning as she raised an eyebrow at Isaac. He glared at her. Suddenly the room felt warmer, his skin felt hot. He shifted in his seat and lowered his eyes, for fear Van would see how Maxie had set them ablaze.

Everything about her—her wild mane, her full lips, her flushed skin; smooth and sun-kissed skin, her damn _dress_ —set him on fire. The aching urge to get up and go to her, grab her, shake her, _ravish_ her, nearly overwhelmed him.

Especially now. Especially at the mention of Daniel Gnar.

"I'll be back later," she said, going to the door.

"Enjoy dinner," Van said, then smirked. "Enjoy dessert more."

With a dismissive wave, Maxie left. Once she was gone, Isaac was on his feet. He couldn't sit another second, he couldn't be still. A myriad of inexplicable emotions raged inside of him. "I don't think Maxie should be seeing Gnar," he said.

"Why not? He's crazy about her."

"You've got the crazy part right," he retorted. "Look; you see a charming, funny, caring guy who sweeps Maxie off her feet, but there's another side to him. One that I don't think Maxie should be _dating_."

"What are you saying? Maxie isn't _safe_ with him?"

"No. I'm not saying that. I'm just saying that Gnar can be your best friend or your worst enemy, and you'll never know which one until it's too late."

"Which one are you?"

"I think I'm both," he said. "I've been on the butt end of his bad side more than once. I've just known him so long that he can't get over on me like he can some other people. Maxie _hasn't_ known him that long, Van. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Not really," she replied with the wave of a hand. "Maxie's an adult, Isaac. I don't know how many times I have to remind you. She'll do what she wants. Anyway, what are _we_ having for dinner? Gnar should've invited us all to eat."

With a frustrated huff, Isaac followed Van into the kitchen as she began to sift through the items in the refrigerator. It was bare except for water, energy drinks, and leftover takeout. She pulled a container of Chinese food from the night before off the shelf and smelled it. "Ugh," she groaned, cringing. "This is trash. All of this is trash. Why don't we go grocery shopping?"

"Because you don't cook."

She laughed. "You got that right. You're not about to turn me into a housewife, babe."

"Van, come sit down," he said, taking the container from her hand and setting it on the counter. She sighed and rolled her eyes as he pulled her to the table to sit. "When Gnar and I were seniors in high school, he was dating this girl."

"Isaac, seriously. I don't care. Maxie's going to do what she wants. Especially lately. You see how's she's been acting lately—"

"Just listen!" he snapped. "Her name was Marie, her father was some successful entertainment lawyer and her mother owned a makeup company or something, so she was _rich_. Her car cost more than my first two semesters of college."

"What's your point?" Van said, tiredly.

"She was crazy about Gnar. Go figure, right? The spoiled rich chick at school falls in love with the troublemaking lowlife. They dated all through senior year. And then the senior trip came around. It was to the Grand Canyon," he explained. "Gnar and I came up with this brilliant idea to fly with the rest of the senior class to Nevada, and then sneak away to Vegas for the weekend."

Van grinned. "Brilliant."

"We didn't have enough money, though. Not to cover the cost of the trip, and definitely a weekend in Vegas. So Gnar came up with a plan."

' _Marie's parents are going away for the weekend,' he says one evening, as they brainstorm a way to come up with enough money to fund their travels._

' _And...?' Isaac says._

' _And they have money to spare,' he elaborates. 'I could get Marie out of the house for a few hours. Give you enough time to get in there and...'_

' _Rob them?' Isaac cried, incredulous. 'You want me to rob your girlfriend?'_

_Gnar shrugged. 'It's not like the king and queen can't afford it. They have a thousand dollar_ silverware _set,' he says. 'They don't eat off of it. Just get in, grab a few things, and get out. It's a small loss for them and a huge gain for us.'_

Van was leaning forward, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. "You _robbed_ her."

Isaac shrugged. "Gnar took her to the movies. Texted me when they left and I went in. He even left the back door open for me."

Shaking her head, Van said, "I can't believe you _did_ it! You set her up."

"She wasn't _my_ girlfriend. And _he_ set her up."

"What did you take?"

Isaac shrugged with the wave of a hand. "I don't know, Van, a bunch of stuff. Cash, some jewelry—"

"You _stole_ their _jewelry_?"

"Like Gnar said, it was a small loss for them."

"And how much did you make from it?"

With a smirk, he replied, "Enough to go to Vegas, that's for sure."

Van shook her head. "I can't believe he set her up. I can't believe _you_ went along with it."

"Yes, it was wrong of me to go along with it. But she wasn't _my_ girlfriend. Gnar, on the other hand, slept in her bed. Told her he _loved_ her. And he didn't even blink when he told me to break into her house. _That's_ what kind of person Gnar is, Van. He always has been and he always will be."

"Well, he obviously didn't _really_ care about that girl. Maybe Maxie's different."

"What if she isn't?"

"What if she is?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm his best friend in the world and he's crossed me dozens of times. One time he got pulled over and gave the police _my_ name, figuring I was in Europe so it wouldn't make a difference. When I came home, I was arrested at the _airport_ because I had an outstanding warrant on me. For my birthday one year, my mom's fiancé gave me an antique pocket watch. It was worth tens of thousands of dollars, even then, but to me, it was _priceless_. Gnar tricked my aunt into letting him into my room when I wasn't there so he could steal it. When I caught him, he pulled a knife on me. A fucking _knife,_ Van."

She shook her head. "I don't believe it."

"Oh, believe it. And when I didn't back down, he laughed and said he was _joking_."

"Well, if you feel so strongly about it, why are you still friends? Why do you still keep him so close to you? Why do you let him run your gym?"

Isaac lowered his eyes. "I've known him longer than I've known almost anyone else in my life. You have dozens of friends, Van. Aunts, uncles, cousins. People you've known since you were a kid, even younger. I have Jenny, and I have Gnar. Beggars can't be choosers. And anyway, I've had plenty of time to learn how to deal with Gnar. I know his brain almost as well as I know my own— _knew_ my own."

"People change, Isaac," she said, getting to her feet. "And Maxie's a prime example. As far as I'm concerned, he'll probably be the one hurt in the end, anyway."

"Gnar's not Alex, Van."

With a chuckle, she replied, "Maxie went easy on Alex."

When Maxie arrived at Gnar's, she was surprised to find they wouldn't be alone for dinner. Joining them was his sister and his mother. They were there, sitting in his living room when he invited Maxie inside. And they'd been expecting her. "You must be Maxie," his mother said, getting to her feet. She embraced Maxie as if they'd known each other for years, even as she said, "I'm Ella, by the way."

"Wow," said Maxie, still locked in Ella's embrace. "It's really nice to meet you." Pulling back, she added, "I didn't realize Daniel's family would be here."

"That's because he was afraid if he told you, you wouldn't come," his sister informed Maxie as she stepped forward.

"Jesus, Elizabeth," Gnar mumbled as Maxie reddened.

"Call me Liz," she said, hugging Maxie.

"It's a pleasure," Maxie replied.

" _Such_ a pleasure," Ella said. Gnar clearly got his good looks from his mother, and Liz had followed suit. Both women were tall, nearly six feet, with square shoulders. Ella didn't look much older than her children with her prominent cheekbones and flawless skin, and black hair falling in thick waves down to her shoulders. Liz, who stood just an inch shorter than her mother, shared Ella's frame, her same face, even her same black tresses. But her murky green eyes were what set her apart from her mother and brother, and the childlike quality to her smile. All together, they were a stunning trio.

"I was going to get dinner started," Ella said, "but Daniel tells us you cook, so I figured maybe you and I can whip something up together."

"Maybe you can teach Liz a thing or two," Gnar said, leading them to the kitchen.

"Shut up!" Liz snapped with an annoyed grin. "I can cook."

"Actually, honey, you _could_ use a few pointers," said Ella.

Maxie froze and looked at Liz, waiting for the moment of eminent impact. Was Liz going to return the insult? Yell? Storm out?

No. She just shrugged. Shrugged and laughed. Maxie exhaled a sigh of relief as Gnar squeezed her shoulder. "They're not Van and Kathy," he whispered against her ear. "Relax."

Sighing again, she forced a smile and nodded. A family unlike Van's. A happy family, an _affable_ one. Maxie almost didn't know what to do with her nerves. She didn't know what it was like to have her guard down at a family dinner. "So, what should we make?" Ella asked.

"I bought lamb," Gnar replied.

"Great. Maxie, are you familiar with the preparation of lamb?"

"I told you, Mom, she's familiar with everything," Gnar said, almost proudly. Maxie flushed pink.

"Well, that's good, because I haven't cooked it in _years_. You may have to brush me up, honey."

"I've never cooked lamb," Liz said.

Gnar frowned. "So this is your experimental dinner?

Again, Maxie paused, grew tense. But Liz only glared at her brother, and Ella threw him a dismissive wave. "Alright, then, everyone roll up your sleeves. We might as well just jump in."

Dinner preparation couldn't have gone more smoothly. Maxie worked perfectly with Ella, and Liz remained the attentive student. Ella was very impressed with a lamb recipe in Maxie's cookbook, and she even offered her own pointers for the next edition that Maxie happily wrote down. And Gnar watched them the whole time, smiling to himself as Maxie spoke and joked and laughed with his family. When it was time to sit down and eat, she felt as if she'd known them forever.

"So, tell me again how you two met, Daniel, I can't remember," Ella said. Before he could reply, she turned to Maxie, who had begun pouring water for everyone. "Sit, honey, I'll serve."

Gnar and Maxie exchanged smiles as she obliged, taking the seat across from him, just next to Liz. "Didn't you meet at the hospital, visiting Isaac?" she asked.

"No, we met before that," Gnar replied. "At the gym, a few times."

"Do you train, Maxie?" Ella asked.

"No," Maxie replied. "I just visited Isaac sometimes."

"Maxie's best friend is Isaac's fiancé, Mom."

"Ugh!" Liz groaned. "Why couldn't it have been _me_? I mean, I've been around for _years_. It rightfully should have been me!"

Gnar smiled with a roll of his eyes. "Liz has had a crush on Isaac since—"

"Since I first laid eyes on his beautiful face," she said, dreamily.

"How poetic, honey," Ella retorted.

Liz looked at Maxie. "Back me up here. I know you sort of have a thing with my brother and everything, but anyone with eyes can see how perfect Isaac is. Right?"

Maxie shifted in her seat, she could feel her cheeks grow hot. "Hey," Gnar cut in. "Don't answer that, Max. I might get jealous."

Forcing a smile, she said, "You got it."

"Seriously, though," Liz went on. "He's like the perfect man. Gorgeous, smart, successful. And _so_ nice. He was always so protective."

Finally taking her seat, Ella said, "You would know something about that, huh, Maxie? The night he was shot. Wasn't he protecting _you_?"

This time Maxie couldn't keep the red from her face. "Umm...yeah," she choked out.

"That must have been terrifying," she said, reaching for Maxie's hand across the table. "I'm so sorry you had to go through it. But you know what they say, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

"I don't think Isaac would agree," Maxie replied, and as soon as the words crossed the threshold of her lips, she wanted to take them back. But everyone only laughed.

"I think you're probably right," Ella said. "Alright, guys. Dig in. Let's see how we did."

Maxie thought it all tasted delicious, and it seemed everyone else agreed. For a few minutes, there was hardly any conversation at all as they ate. And then Liz asked: "So how's Isaac doing, anyway? It's a shame we couldn't see him this trip."

"I'm sure he'll stop by and say hello before you guys head back," Gnar assured.

"But is he doing better? I'm almost afraid to see him."

"He's doing fine," Gnar said. "Right, Max?"

She nodded. "Yeah, he's great. Almost like new."

"And what about the fiancé? How is she getting along? I'm sure it wasn't very easy on her, either," said Ella.

"It couldn't have been _that_ hard," Liz grumbled, "considering she was just _the girlfriend_ before it happened."

Maxie kept her eyes on her plate. She didn't think she could raise them without giving herself away. "They're _both_ fine," Gnar said. "Van makes him the happiest I've ever seen him. He's crazy about her. He was just telling me the other day how lucky he feels to have her around during this time."

"Well," Ella said, "isn't that sweet. I guess some good came of it all then. I'll have to tell Jenny when I get home. Keep this between us, but she mentioned something about Isaac making the biggest mistake of his _life_ when she found out he was engaged." At last, Maxie looked up.

"No kidding," Gnar said. His eyes were on Maxie. "Why would she think that?"

Ella shrugged. "Who knows? You know how elusive they can be. I don't even think she meant to say as much as she did. I just happened to overhear a phone call with Isaac. She said, 'You're making the biggest mistake of your life, Isaac. And you have _no idea_.'"

After dinner, they remained around the table, laughing as Liz and Ella exchanged stories about Gnar as a kid. "He was so cute," Liz said. "Gosh, Daniel, what happened?"

Gnar chuckled. "Same thing that happened to you, I suppose."

Ella laughed loudly and Liz threw a pea at him. "Was he a good kid?" Maxie asked.

"He was a sneaky one," Ella replied. "He always had something up his sleeve. I had to keep my eye on him. But he was also caring and considerate and free-spirited and adventurous. When he was a little boy, he would always say he wanted to be a pirate when he grew up, so he could sail around the world. Remember, Daniel?"

Gnar nodded. "I remember."

"For a while, he'd said he was going to buy a houseboat and live in the Bermuda Triangle."

Maxie laughed. "Why the Bermuda Triangle?" she asked Gnar.

He shrugged. "I don't know. The mystery of it, maybe," he said, then looking her in her eyes added, "Or maybe the impossibility."

"Did you know that Gnar dreams of exploring the world, Maxie?" Ella asked. "Just packing up and going?"

"He's mentioned it," Maxie said.

"How do you feel about traveling?"

"Well," Maxie said, lowering her eyes. No one knew of her France plans but Bea and Charlie. She hadn't even told Van yet. She hadn't even told Isaac. "I actually have a few travel plans of my own."

"Oh?" said Ella.

"What plans?" demanded Gnar.

"I'm moving," she said. "Pretty soon, most likely."

Gnar set down his fork. "Moving where?"

"France," Maxie said. "For culinary school." Gnar blanched.

"How long will you be gone?"

She shrugged. "As long as it takes."

"As long as _what_ takes?"

As long as it takes to stop loving Isaac. To stop resenting Van.

To stop thinking of you.

For a moment, Maxie forgot there was anyone but her and Gnar in the room, at the table. She shrugged again.

Maxie sat on the piano bench, legs draped across Gnar's lap as he played for her. She used a marker to doodle hearts on his shoulder as she listened to his newest piece, this one as dark and as beautiful as the rest. "Did you play a lot for your family?" she asked. Ella and Liz had only left an hour prior, but the remnants of their presence lingered. The apartment still smelled of dinner and Ella's perfume and Liz's homemade potpourri that she brought especially for her brother's living room.

"My dad used to make me practice every night after dinner. Most of the time they all sat around and listened." He looked down at the array of hearts Maxie drew on his shoulder. "How's the masterpiece coming?"

"It's coming," she said.

"Thank you for being here tonight, Max."

She smiled. "Thank you for inviting me. You could have warned me I'd be meeting the family, though."

"You heard what Liz said. I didn't think you'd come."

"I would have come," she said. "They were delightful."

"They loved you."

"Not as much as they love Isaac, apparently. They couldn't stop talking about him all evening."

Gnar scoffed. "Who _doesn't_ fall in love with Isaac?"

Maxie had no answer to that question. "How did you two become so close?" she asked.

"Me and Isaac?"

"Yes," she said, lying back on the bench. Gnars eyes moved down the length of her, "It's a boring story," he said thickly. His hand found her thigh and slowly moved upward.

"C'mon," she insisted, propping herself up on her elbows. "Just tell me. I've always been curious."

"Alright," he conceded, though he didn't move his hand which nearly made it past the hem of her dress. "What do you want to know?"

"How did you meet? How did you become friends?"

"We got into a fight," he said. "In eighth grade, on Isaac's first day of school. We had French class together and when I realized he was fluent, I decided I didn't like him." He laughed heartedly at the memory. "I was probably just jealous because it was my second time taking French. I failed it the first time. Anyway, after school, a few of my friends and I thought we could get away with throwing paper balls across the bus at him."

"And you didn't?"

With a chuckle, he said, "C'mon, Max. You know Isaac. He may have grown a few inches since then, put on a few pounds, but his ego's always been as huge as it is now."

As soon as the third paper ball hit him, Isaac had been up out of his seat, making his way toward the back of the bus. Gnar, in the very last seat, had seen him coming, and despite Isaac's calm stride, had seen the intent in Isaac's eyes.

He hadn't been afraid.

Isaac had reached a boy named Justin Jansen first, Gnar recalled. One swift blow to the face and blood exploded from Justin's mouth. Keith Harte had been the victim of Isaac's second assault. One punch had shaken him up, a second one dropped him. And then Isaac's eyes had fallen on Gnar, and it was all Gnar had been able to do not to smile.

He'd jumped up, charged, and the boys collided like two wrecking balls. Gnar had been thin at the time, frail even, but he had speed and he had coordination that Isaac couldn't get the best of.

On the other hand, Gnar said, he himself had been no match for Isaac's brute strength and startling precision. The whole bus had roared, all of their peers had surrounded them, though no one had been willing to risk getting hit by trying to break them up.

Finally, the bus driver had pulled over and made his way to them, suffering a few strikes in the crossfire as he'd split them up.

The next day in school, they'd both been suspended.

"We still didn't like each other," Gnar said. "But we definitely respected each other."

"So let me get this straight," Maxie said, unable to hold back her grin. "You were a _bully_ in junior high?"

He laughed loudly. "Is that all you took from that story?"

"You were picking on him!"

"And you see what good it did me."

"Alright," she said. "How did you guys end up being friends, then?"

"Well," he said, leaning on the piano as he recalled. "I don't know if I ever mentioned it, Max, but I was no angel back then..."

"You've mentioned it."

"I used to steal from this little store in the neighborhood. This old dude owned it, and my friends and I would go in there whenever we didn't have money and stock up on candy and chips and juice and dirty magazines." He paused to look at Maxie's face. Smiling, she rolled her eyes. He returned her grin, playfully pinching her thigh. "Anyway, Jenny used to always send Isaac in there for groceries and stuff, too. And he wasn't like us. He was a good kid. Polite, respectable. Everyone liked him, even the old scrooge who ran the store."

Gnar had walked in the store and immediately spotted Isaac at the counter, paying for a carton of eggs and a gallon of milk. They'd briefly made eye contact as Isaac collected his change and made his way out. Mr. O'Neal, the store's owner, had never looked away from Gnar.

Casually, Gnar had made his way up and down the aisles. He'd discreetly collected a candy bar and shoved it in his pocket. A small bag of donuts, mints, more candy—

"Hey!" Mr. O'Neal had suddenly bellowed from behind the counter. "I see you! Put that back!"

"I thought about actually putting it back for about half a second before I bolted for the door instead," Gnar recounted. He'd made it out of the door just as Mr. O'Neal had made it out from behind the counter and took off after him.

Gnar had bee-lined it down the road, toward the woods. If he'd just been able to make it to the woods, he'd known Mr. O'Neal wouldn't have been able to catch him. He'd been able to hear the old man behind him, yelling for him to stop with curse words and threats. But Gnar hadn't slowed down, he hadn't even looked back. He'd made it to the corner and nearly stumbled as he turned. "The woods were too far," Gnar said. "So I was standing there on the corner, in the middle of the street, Mr. O'Neal _right_ behind me, trying to figure out what to do next."

Then he'd seen Isaac. Breathless, he'd paused. The boys had stared at one another for a moment, and then Mr. O'Neal's screams had carried through the night. Shooting a glance back, Gnar had darted across the nearest lawn and over a fence just as Mr. O'Neal turned the corner. Mr. O'Neal paused before Isaac and looked in every direction, then started toward the same fence Gnar had just gotten over as dogs began to bark from behind it.

"Wait!" Isaac called. Mr. O'Neal whirled back toward him. "He went that way."

Shooting Isaac one last suspicious glance, Mr. O'Neal had nodded and run in the opposite direction of Gnar, disappearing around the next corner.

"Wow," Maxie said. "He helped you steal a few candy bars. What a stand-up guy."

Gnar chuckled. "It doesn't seem like a big deal now, but we weren't even fifteen at the time. I came out from the backyard I'd been hiding in and thanked him. I gave him my donuts and then I met up with a few of my friends I'd been with before. They hit the store after I got Mr. O'Neal to chase me out—"

"Wait, so you _wanted_ him to chase you?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, so my friends could go in and _really_ stock up." Maxie shook her head, laughing. "Naturally, we split the winnings with Isaac. And we were pretty much inseparable from then on."

"So you corrupted him."

Lowering his eyes, Gnar sighed. "Unfortunately, Maxie, Isaac had been corrupted long before I met him." Maxie knew what he meant. Isaac's father. His mother. Their histories, their deaths. "And how about you?" he asked. "How did you meet him?"

Maxie told him the story of that Christmas night Isaac hit her with his car. She'd fainted in his arms on the street and he took her to the hospital where he sat crammed in a tiny chair in the corner of her room until she woke. He helped her put a shirt on over her aching ribs and even gave her a ride home. "And then," Maxie concluded, trying to hold back her defeated sigh, "he met Van. He'd barely made it all the way into the apartment before she had her claws in him."

Did she sound bitter when she spoke the words? Resentful? Had she accidentally rolled her eyes at the memory?

"I guess you kind of set them up then?"

Maxie forced a laugh. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Did you mind?" he asked. "When Van got her claws in him?"

"Why would I have?" she replied with a shrug. But her voice was low, and her eyes were on the ceiling.

"Maxie," he said. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"You and Isaac..." At last, she looked at him. Only now, it was his gaze that was averted. "What was going on between you two? _Something,_ right?"

"What do you mean?" she choked out.

"Back then, before he got shot, when you would come around. Was there ever anything between you? Even the slightest of feelings—"

"No," she said instantly. "Isaac and I are friends."

"Isaac and _I_ are friends, Maxie. What you two have is...different."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said.

"No?"

" _No._ And you sound like you're accusing me of something."

"I'm just asking you."

"You're _accusing_ me. The answer is no, Daniel. _No_." She stood. "I'm going to straighten up the kitchen before I go," she said.

When she disappeared into the kitchen, Gnar got to his feet to follow her but the sight of his own reflection as he passed the mirror caught his eye. The hearts Maxie had drawn on his arm were all broken. Every single one of them.

#

THEN

Bea sat with Maxie, sketching up her latest tattoo, while Van was off working. "What is it?" Maxie asked, peering at the drawing over Bea's shoulder. She held it up for Maxie to see. "A grenade? You want to tattoo a grenade on me?"

"Yep," Bea replied.

"Why? Because life blows?"

Bea leaned her head back and laughed loudly. "You _would_ think of an explanation like that," she said. " _I_ just thought it was an interesting tattoo."

Maxie shrugged and let herself fall onto the couch beside Bea. "Whatever."

Bea frowned at her. "He'll come around, Max."

"He won't. Which is fine, because this is what I wanted. This is how it _needs_ to be."

For a moment, Bea was silent. "He _will_ come around, though," she said at last.

"What if he doesn't?"

"He will. He loves you. He's probably just trying to teach you a lesson."

"But Bea, it's been _months_. I could be dead right now, and he wouldn't even know it."

Bea shrugged. "At least he isn't married. I found out Ken, that guy I met last month, is married."

Maxie rolled her eyes. "But you're still seeing him, right?"

"Yeah, but seeing someone who _isn't_ married for once would be nice."

"Being in love with someone who _isn't_ dating your best friend would be nice, too."

They both sighed as the doorbell rang. Maxie sighed again. "That's probably Alex," she said, not moving to answer it.

"Are you going to open the door?"

She shrugged. "Maybe if I just leave him out there, he'll go away."

"Max!" Bea cried.

" _Shh_!" she hushed. "He'll hear you."

"What's wrong? Why don't you want to see him?" He knocked again. Bea giggled. "You're _really_ just going to leave him out there?"

"It's just harder for me to put up with him lately. When Isaac was here, I kept Alex around as...I don't know...sort of a buffer. But now that Isaac's gone—"

"He just gets in the way?"

She shut her eyes and nodded. "Exactly. I'm going to break up with him. For good this time." She shrugged. "I just haven't gotten to it yet."

He knocked again. "How 'bout I tell him you're sleeping," Bea said standing. "We both know he'll stand out there all night, otherwise."

Another knock sounded as Bea pulled the door open, and she and Maxie both gasped. Standing in the hall, waiting to be let it, wasn't Alex at all. It was Isaac.

"Bea," he greeted, nodding to her as he stepped inside.

Wide-eyed, Maxie rose to her feet. He paused across the room from her, and for a moment, they simply stared at one another. "Maximilienne," he said finally.

"Hi," she choked out. Her heart beat so fast, so urgently, she feared it would break right through her chest cavity and fall to the floor at her feet. She could barely believe she was seeing the man before her. Just when she was started to give up hope of ever seeing him again, there he was.

"Hi," he said.

And then she was across the room. Before her mind could even process the action, her feet carried her to him. She threw her arms around his neck, and the force of his embrace lifted her from the floor. She inhaled him, sighing with relief as his scent filled her. The sensation of his body under hers, his skin beneath her lips, his voice whispering in her ear.

He set her down on her feet and bent to kiss her. She heard Bea saying goodbye behind them, but she didn't reply. She _couldn't_. She was lost in Isaac. Lost again, where she belonged. He kissed her with need and longing and relief while his hands explored her, reminded themselves of her body, her curves, her hair, her face. When they finally parted, they were breathless. Breathless but still pawing at one another.

"Where have you been?" she asked. He stared down into her big eyes, her pouty lips. How had he stayed away from them for so long? He ran his fingers through her hair. It had grown. He pulled her close, so close she could feel his _own_ growth.

"I did what you asked," he said. "I left you alone."

"But now you're back?"

He grinned. "What did I tell you? I _can't_ leave you alone forever, Max."

She rested her forehead on his chest and hugged him. "I'm glad you're back. I didn't mean what I said, you know. I _should_ have meant it, but I didn't. I missed you so much."

"Why didn't you call?" he demanded.

She shrugged. "I didn't think you wanted to speak to me."

"So? That never stopped Van. It didn't stop her from _showing_ _up_ at the gym, either. I thought _you_ would show up, like you used to. When I saw you waiting for her across the street that day, I almost broke. I almost called you that same night."

She looked up at him, brows furrowed. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know if you wanted me anymore."

He leaned down and kissed her. And kissed her and kissed her, though it would take him a lifetime to make up all the affection he'd been longing for from her in the months he'd been away. "Are you going to speak to Van?" she asked.

" _Shh_ ," he hushed, scooping her up into his arms and making his way to the bedroom. "Not now, alright?"

"Alright," she agreed, wrapping her arms around his neck again.

He took her to the bedroom and set her down. "Just so you know," he said, pulling off his clothes, "I never stopped wanting you. I don't think I'll ever stop wanting you."

Smiling, she slid back on the mattress as he came for her. "Did you miss me?" she asked, lying down on the pillow. He settled on top of her, between her legs. His hands moved up her thighs, his lips found her neck.

"Let me show you how much I missed you," he replied.

And he showed her. He showed her over and over again, until she was breathless, sore, tired, until she could have cried. And even then, he showed her more. When she thought she had barely enough energy to stand, he took her to the shower and showed her again under the hot water, against the tile walls. And then they stood under the faucet, holding one another, kissing, staring into the faces they'd both pined to see over the past months.

"Are you back for good?" she asked, lathering his chest as he washed her hair.

"Mm hmm," he said. "For you."

"What does that mean?"

"What do you think it means? I came back to be with _you_ , Max. Not Van."

She sighed. He said nothing. "So now we just tell her?" she finally asked.

"Yep," he said, simply.

"And then what?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess we'll just figure it out when it happens. I'm guessing you won't want to live here, though, so I've already made room for you in my apartment." She shut her eyes tightly and let her head fall on his soapy chest. "Hey," he said. "She'll _get over it_. Maybe she'll be upset with you for a while, but she _will_ get over it. This is not working, though. I can't pretend anymore. And I'm _not_ just giving you up. So either way she's going to find out, Max. Whether she hears it from you or me."

"I'm just afraid," she admitted.

"Don't be," he said. "We're going to be okay. We're finally going to be able to go out in public together and hug and kiss. I can tell you I love you loud enough for everyone to hear. And we can plan our future like a _proper_ couple. Doesn't any of that make it worth it, Max?"

She nodded. "It all does." After being away from him for so long, she couldn't imagine it any other way. "But will you give me just a little more time? Just a little."

"More time? Sure, Max. It's eleven o'clock now...?"

"Isaac..."

"She get's home from the bar around five...?" he went on.

"She's still so depressed over you leaving, Isaac, I can't tell her _now..._ "

"...that gives you a whole six hours."

She groaned but she didn't object. A big part of her was still terrified of the consequences, but an even bigger part of her was finally ready to welcome them. "Alright," she said. "We'll do it."

"Good," he said, tilting her face toward his. "Now kiss me so we can finish making up."

" _Finish_? Aren't we done?"

He laughed loudly. "Three _months_ , Maximilienne. _Three_. We're nowhere _near_ done."

Shame woke her.

The heat of it rolled through her, an explosion that started in the pit of her stomach and ricocheted off of her organs. In the dark haze between sleep and consciousness, she'd seen Van, her best friend. She'd heard Van's voice, saying it was okay to cry, felt Van's fingers wrap tightly around hers and squeeze.

Sitting straight up in her bed, she turned to the figure that lay beside her. Isaac stirred and reached for her, his hand falling on the empty pillow beside him. Even through the darkness, she could see his eyes flutter open. "Maxie," he said. "What's wrong?"

"Van," she said, breathless. Still disoriented from sleep, her eyes scanned the room. "Where's Van? What time is it?"

" _Sh-h_ ," Isaac soothed, placing a comforting hand on the small of her back. "Relax. It's only two, Van's still at work."

But Maxie's heart was hammering angrily against her chest cavity, guilt flooded her veins. Remnants of sorrow lingered from her dream. In it, she'd been fifteen again, sitting in the pitch black of the bedroom she'd once shared with Van, waiting for a call that would never come.

"If he was ever going to call," she thought aloud, "it would have been that night. My birthday."

Isaac rose to rest on his elbow. He took hold of her arm and gently pulled her around to face him. She couldn't. She kept her eyes low, her head turned. "Hey," he said. "Was it a nightmare?"

"No," she replied. It was a reminder. How _easy_ Isaac made it for her to forget nights like that one. Nights when it had been Van beside her, Van wanting to know what was wrong. Wanting to make it better. "We can't do this," she said. "We can't tell her."

Isaac took his hand off of her. With a sigh, he fell back down against the pillow. "Go back to sleep," he said, evenly.

"It was my birthday—"

"I'm not going to entertain this conversation."

"He didn't even _call_ , but Van was there—"

"Of course, she was! You lived with her, Maxie. Jesus. Where else would she have been?"

"You don't understand..." Maxie could almost feel the warmth of Van's palm against her cheek, as it'd been that night, catching her tears as they'd fallen. She could almost smell Van's perfume. Her shampoo.

Or maybe that was just Isaac. Why _wouldn't_ her friend's scent be clinging to him?

She opened her mouth to speak, but as she finally allowed herself to look at him, everything she'd been meaning to say slipped away. His eyes were closed and his brows were knitted together in frustration, yet he was still so handsome her words left her.

"I mean, seriously," he went on. "Aren't you sick of this? The hiding, the sneaking. I'm not a fucking teenager anymore. I'm not doing this."

When he realized she was staring at him, warmth mollified his hard gaze, and the corners of his lips curled up into a small grin. "C'mere," he said, taking her by the arms again and pulling her against his bare chest. "We're telling her tonight," he said, softer but with no less conviction. "We're telling her, and we're going to deal with the consequences. It'll be hard, but at least we'll have each other."

"But I'll lose _her_." Her best friend in the entire world.

"Maybe at first. But she'll get past it eventually. You both will. That's what it means to be family." His fingers were in her hair as his spoke, the tips of them moved gently against her scalp. Then he dropped a kiss on the crown of her head and, even in the midst of her guilt, she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in his embrace.

What was it about him that made her lose her sense of obligation? Her sense of loyalty? The answer came to her almost instantly.

_Everything_. Every single thing.

They made love. They held each other. They talked. They made love again. It was just after four in the morning when she untangled herself from his limbs and went to the kitchen for water. She pulled the jug from the refrigerator and as she turned to retrieve a cup, something caught her eye. Van's bedroom door. It sat slightly ajar, a thin stream of light bleeding out into the hall.

Van was home. Just in her bedroom.

Maxie could hear her shuffling around. For a moment, she stood frozen in her own panic. Wearing nothing but panties and Isaac's oversized tee shirt, there would be no denying what had been going on while Van was away. Especially not with him half-asleep in her bed.

She had to wake him, warn him. They planned on coming clean to Van, but not like this. Pivoting toward her room, she slammed right into a broad chest. Strong hands grabbed her before she could gather her bearings, and roughly turned her back toward the counter. She cried out as her belly smashed against the edge. She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand seized her by the mouth and jerked her back first. His fingers dug into her cheeks, his palms covered her nose. She couldn't even breathe, let alone scream.

She struggled against his iron grip for but a moment before the sensation of cold metal against her temple made her stop short. "That's right," a low voice rasped at her. The man leaned down so close to her that his lips brushed against her ear. "Don't move another fucking _inch_."

She didn't move. She didn't even blink. Her heart may have even stopped beating, but she couldn't be sure. Fear oppressed every other emotion, every other thought. "Is anyone else here?" the man demanded. Maxie's eyes went to Van's bedroom as it occurred to her that it wasn't Van at all shuffling around in there. So there was just Isaac.

She shook her head.

He lowered the gun and shoved her back down on the counter, pushing her face into the granite tile. Her heart pace quickened as the shirt she wore rose over the back of her thighs. She cried out, but once again, the sensation of the gun against her skin quieted her. "Shut up!" he ordered, pressing her face harder against the countertop. Pain vibrated through the side of her head. She felt as if it would explode under the pressure of his palm.

Was Isaac still asleep? What would happen if she yelled for him? What would happen if he came running out of the room to the sound of her distress with no idea of what was waiting for him? She would get them both shot.

With the gun still digging into her spine, the man lifted her shirt to reveal her skimpy, lacy panties. Maxie recoiled. She tried to rise, her hands flew back to stop him. "No, please!" she cried, tears blurring her vision. When had she started to cry? "Don't!"

Her hands battled with his for the hem of the shirt for a moment before he took her by her hair with one hand and jerked her head back violently. With the butt of his pistol, he delivered a swift blow that landed just above her brow. She crumbled instantly, right into the violent embrace of her assailant. The room spun beneath her as he shoved her, limp and dazed, back against the counter. "I will fucking hurt you," he growled, giving her head a sharp jolt. Reality was slipping away from her as the pain of her wound set in in sharp, furious bursts. She slowly raised her hand to it and looked at her fingers, decorated in blood. She blinked as darkness crept in, slowly framing her vision. "Do you understand me?" he barked at her. When she didn't reply, he gave her head another jar. This time she nodded.

Taking her by the back of the shirt, he shoved her to the middle of the floor. She could feel herself swaying on her feet. Her legs felt weak beneath her. For a moment, she stood there trembling, uncertain of what was happening, of what was _going_ to happen. What was he doing behind her? She couldn't hear him, he wasn't touching her, and yet, she could feel him, like an ominous shadow hovering over her. Finally, he said, "Take off your shirt."

Her eyes fell shut, her insides crumbled. Like a hollow, rotted floor, collapsing beneath the weight of her. A violent sob rose up from her chest.

"Hey!" he snapped. "Now!"

Helpless, her hands shaking, her shoulders heaving as she wept, she slowly pulled her shirt over her head and let it fall to the floor. The apartment was cold—or maybe it was just the menacing presence of her aggressor—and the hairs rose on her arms and the back of her neck. A moment later his icy fingers trailed down her spine, stopping at the small of her back to pop the elastic of her panties. She shuddered, weak with humiliation and shame. With a chuckle, he said, "Nice."

Maxie squeezed her eyes shut tighter as he circled her, the slightest bit of movement dizzying her. Stopping in front of her, he shoved her arms, which were crossed over her exposed breasts, down to her sides. "Your panties now," he said. "Take them off."

She dropped her head, slowly shook it. "Please—"

He was behind her again; she felt the gun prod her forcefully. "Now!" he barked.

Letting her eyes flutter open, she wondered if she preferred to just have him shoot her. Humiliate her, rape her, maybe kill her once it was all over, anyway, or just put her out of her misery now? But then, something shifted in the darkness. A silhouette, a figure. _Isaac_.

He came out of the shadows just enough to meet her eyes. His were black, and stone cold. His shoulders were squared, his jaw was taut. She inhaled sharply as he raised the small gun in his hands—he'd given it to her months ago, insisted she keep it in the drawer beside her bed despite her persistent claims that she'd never need it—and pointed it right at her. She inhaled, her eyes went wide, and then he pulled the trigger.

NOW

Addison sat in her chair, propped up on her knees, leaning into Maxie as she colored on the kids' menu the hostess of the restaurant had given her. "What color do you think her eyes should be?" Addison asked of the girl in the picture.

"Brown," said Maxie. "Like yours."

Addison smiled. "Mommy said I have eyes like you."

Maxie nodded. "We both have eyes like Vic—our dad."

Nicole and Victor sat across from the girls, Nicole resting in the curve of Victor's arm, Victor watching his daughters with full eyes and a small grin. "I think this is one of those moments I'll never forget," he said. "All of us here. Spending quality time together. Happy."

"I agree," Nicole said, taking his hand. "Maybe we should do this regularly. Dinner once a week. Once every other week? We can try a new restaurant every time. Maybe you'll even get some good recipe ideas, Max."

"I like that idea," said Victor.

Maxie nodded. "Sounds fun."

"You would like that, too, wouldn't you, honey?" Nicole said to Addison, leaning forward to push a curl off Addison's tiny face.

"Yes," Addison said. "And Maxie can come to my first recital."

"Your very first one?" said Maxie. "Of course I'll come."

"She starts her new class in August," said Nicole.

"I'll be there," Maxie promised.

Setting down her crayon, Addison turned to her sister. "Will you bring your mommy?" she asked.

Maxie opened her mouth to speak but then shut it again. She looked at Victor whose mouth hung agape. Clearing her throat, she said, "No, Addison. My mommy's in heaven."

"Do you miss her?" Addison asked.

Maxie nodded. "Every day."

Turning to Victor, Addison asked, "Do _you_ miss her mommy?"

Meeting Maxie's gaze, Victor nodded. "Yes, I do," he said. "Every day."

When Nicole left the table to take Addison to the restroom, Victor reached across to take Maxie's hand. "I need to say something," he said. "About your mother."

Maxie gently pulled her hand away. Lowering her eyes, she shook her head. "There's nothing to say about her, Victor."

"There is," he insisted. "There's a lot to say. It's just that most of it is irrelevant now. There are some things, though..." His voice trailed off a moment. "I loved her," he said at last. "I _loved_ Noelle. I just didn't know how to show her. And no matter what I did, no matter how badly I treated her, no matter how much of a man I _wasn't_ , she stuck by me. And maybe that's why I never changed. I just figured she'd always be there."

Maxie scoffed. "I guess she showed us both, huh?"

He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "I know that it was my fault. I know that I drove her to do what she did—"

"Don't," Maxie interjected raising her hand to stop him. "I stopped blaming myself for what she did a long time ago. You should, too."

"But if it weren't for the way I treated her...Neglecting her. Taking her for granted."

"She could've left you. She didn't have to _kill_ herself. She didn't have to leave _me_ to punish _you_. She wasn't the first person to have a hard life. She wasn't the first person to ever feel ignored, or mistreated, or hurt. She was _selfish_."

"We were both selfish, and for that I apologize. I'm sorry, Maxie, that you got stuck with _two_ parents who dropped the ball so irrevocably. And I know there's nothing I can do to make up for all the years, but I swear to never stop trying."

"Addison is your second chance," she said.

But Victor shook his head. "No, Maxie. You answering my call that day, agreeing to meet me, being here now. _You_ are my second chance."

Victor left Maxie with Nicole and Addison while he went to fetch the car. "Are you sure we can't give you a ride home?" Nicole asked.

"I'm positive," said Maxie. "My friend should be here to meet me any minute."

"Is it Isaac?"

Maxie recoiled. "Isaac? No, why would it be Isaac?"

"I don't know," Nicole said with a shrug. "I just thought you two were close. The way he jumped to your defense that night at dinner..."

"He's just like that," Maxie said.

"Very noble."

" _Too_ noble."

"Is the friend who's meeting you one to defend your honor, too? That probably isn't a bad quality to have in a man."

"Who says my friend is a man?"

Again, Nicole shrugged. " _Is_ your friend a man?"

Rolling her eyes, Maxie said, "Yes."

Nicole giggled. "Someone special?"

"He's just a friend."

"You're blushing."

Maxie looked away, but she was positive there was no hiding her flushed face. Finally, she admitted, "It's complicated."

"How so?"

_He's the closest friend of the man I'm in love with._ "He makes me lose my sense of obligation," Maxie said.

"Well, that isn't complicated. That's _love_."

Maxie shook her head. "I'm not in love with him." _I won't let myself be._

"You know," Nicole said. "When I first met your father, there were about a thousand odds stacked against us. But sometimes, odds aren't put there to deter you. Sometimes they're put there to make you stronger. Victor and I are stronger than ever now. There were tough times, times when I doubted myself, and doubted him, and doubted us together. But we're still together, Maxie. And I don't have a single regret."

Maxie thought of Gnar.

She thought of Isaac.

She thought of Van.

Van hadn't been an _odd_. She was Maxie's best friend. And Isaac certainly wasn't an odd. Isaac was _Isaac_.

And still, upon spotting Gnar turn the corner, Maxie's heart leapt. She could feel her cheeks grow hot and her stomach constrict in anticipation. When his eyes met hers, she couldn't help but smile. "Oh yes," said Nicole. "He _must_ be special."

Before Maxie could reply, Gnar was in front of them. She introduced him to Nicole and Addison, and avoided Nicole's eyes as he turned to her and her face grew hot under his crooked smile. "You look beautiful," he said, fingering one of her curls. His finger brushed against her cheek and she wondered if he could feel the heat emanating off her skin.

"Here's Victor with the car," Nicole said, taking Addison's hand. They all said goodbye before Victor's car disappeared down the road and Gnar and Maxie were left alone on the sidewalk.

"Thanks for meeting me," she said.

"Thanks for inviting me." He nodded in the direction Victor's car had gone. "So that's the family, huh?"

"That's them."

"What's it like?" he asked, gently prodding her to walk. "Being around him again?"

"Different," she replied. "New. Sort of nice. He still feels like a stranger, though. He still feels temporary."

"Maybe because you're moving away," said Gnar. "Everything must feel temporary to you now."

"Not really," she said with a shrug. "Everything that's important will still be here when I get back. Right?"

He grinned. "Do you mean me?"

Blushing, she looked away. "I mean everyone."

"Probably not me," he said. "I'll probably be leaving right behind you. Maybe we'll run into each other again out there. Wouldn't that be a coincidence?"

Maxie scoffed. "A huge one. I might think you're following me."

Taking her by the hand, Gnar pulled her to a halt. "Maybe I would be," he said, turning to face her. "Would that be so bad? Or maybe," he ventured, " _maybe_ we could just go together."

Maxie inhaled sharply. She knew instantly how impossible the request was, and still, the thought of running away with Daniel Gnar thrilled her.

_Isaac's best friend_ , a voice inside her whispered.

"C'mon, Max," he said, taking her hand. "Why do you keep pushing me away? Why do you keep acting like you don't have feelings for me?"

As far as Isaac's concerned, you and him never even happened, Bea had said.

But they _did_ happen. Didn't that count for anything?

"I'm not. I mean, I don't. We're _friends_."

_Isaac's best friend,_ the small voice hissed again, only louder this time.

Gnar shook his head. "We're not friends. We're more than that. We had something that could have been real, Maxie. You know it, that's why you bailed. That's why you're _still_ bailing."

It doesn't matter, Charlie had said. Isaac doesn't remember.

But _she_ remembered. She remembered every second of it, she remembered it every day. When she was sleeping, she dreamt of it.

"I'm not..." she choked out.

If a tree falls and no one is around to hear it, did it make a sound? her mother had asked.

"If you're afraid of getting hurt, you don't need to be." He squeezed her hand. "I'll never hurt you, Maxie. I'll protect you. As fiercely as...as _anyone_ could. We can just _go_. Leave everything behind. Every _one_."

She stared up into his face, into his full, liquid brown eyes, absorbing her.

_Isaac's. Best. Friend_.

"Daniel, I—"

"Maxie?" came Van's voice from behind them.

Gnar let out a frustrated huff as they turned to see Van approaching, Alex in her wake. Maxie frowned. "Hey, Van," she said. With a tight smile, she added, "Alex."

"Maxie," he said, though his eyes were locked on Gnar.

"Hey, Gnar," Van said, hugging him. "Alex, this is Gnar. Gnar, this is Alex."

Gnar's eyes went wide with false surprise. " _The_ Alex?" he said, taking Alex's hand to shake. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you. I've heard great things."

Maxie looked up at him. She didn't think she'd ever told Gnar a single good thing about Alex.

"I wish I could say the same about you," said Alex, confusion evident in his features. Or maybe it was just denial. "Are you two...?"

"Friends," Maxie said.

" _Good_ friends," Gnar added.

Alex frowned, his eyes dropping to his hand, which was still in Gnar's grip. He freed himself with some difficulty. Suddenly his expression softened and he smiled. "I see," he said, looking from Maxie to Gnar. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to be related to Isaac by any chance, would you?"

Maxie glared at him, though Gnar remained unfazed. "As a matter of fact, I practically am," Gnar said.

Nodding, Alex replied, "Well, the resemblance is uncanny. Wouldn't you say, Max?"

Her jaw tight and her nostrils flared, she opened her mouth to lash out at him but Gnar spoke again first. "We get that all the time," he admitted lightly. "It's the height thing, I think. Either that or the remarkable good looks."

Van threw back her head and laughed loudly. Maxie couldn't help but chuckle as well. "So what are you guys up to?" Van asked.

"Just enjoying the weather," said Maxie. Her eyes went from Van to Alex and then back to Van. "What are _you_ guys up to?"

"Just came from a shoot," said Van. "We were going to go grab a drink. Get a little day-drunk. Care to join?"

"No," said Maxie, instantly. Then she added, "Thanks."

Van shrugged. "Suit yourself. See you at home?"

"Yeah, sure."

Grinning, Van asked Gnar, "Will I be seeing you, too?"

"If I'm lucky," he replied, returning her grin.

"Well, good luck," Van said.

Alex scoffed. "Yeah. Good luck."

When they were gone, Gnar turned to Maxie. "I thought those two hated each other."

"Yeah," said Maxie, still looking after them, puzzled. "So did I."

#

NOW

"Back, forward, slide, back, forward, slide. Stay on the balls of your feet, Van. Back, forward, slide—"

"Ow!" Van cried as Isaac stepped on her foot for the fourth time since they started rehearsing their first dance. Van had insisted Maxie give them lessons, and they were proving to need them.

With a frustrated huff, Isaac stepped back. "Seriously? How long are we going to do this?" he demanded.

"Until we can get through a full song without you stepping on my foot!" Van snapped. "It's just three steps, how hard could that be?"

"Can we just stand there and rock back and forth like _normal_ people who don't know how to dance?"

"No! We can't!" Van said, straightening up. She opened her arms again. "C'mon. One more time."

With another sigh, Isaac stepped back into her embrace. Van motioned for Maxie to start again. "Alright. Two, three, four and back, forward, slide, back, forward, slide—"

"Ow!" Van shrieked for the fifth time. " _Isaac!_ "

"Actually, Van, I think you may be a little bit of the problem," Maxie said, standing. "You keep trying to lead and it's throwing off the whole thing."

" _I'm_ messing it up?" she said, perplexed.

"It's not a big deal. Just let Isaac lead."

They started again, and this time made it past the basic step and into the turn, which neither of them could execute. Van moved in the wrong direction, Isaac stepped on her foot again, neither one of them could keep the rhythm of the song they'd chosen. "Van! We're going to make fools of ourselves!" Isaac insisted.

"It's just one dance!"

"That we can't _do_ ," he said. "Why do you need some choreographed routine, anyway? Who cares about a stupid dance that much?"

"Everyone! I just want every second to be special."

"Alright, alright," Maxie cut in. "Guys, it isn't that hard. Van, you keep going the wrong way, which, in turn, is tripping up Isaac. Just watch," she said, stepping into Isaac's arms. "If you guys just fix this, you'll be fine. Two, three, four and back, forward, slide, back, forward, slide, sway, sway, and step out," Maxie instructed. As promised, she and Isaac moved beautifully with one another. The routine flowed seamlessly.

They parted and came together again. Isaac spun her, took her against him, gently pushed her back. They twirled and then concluded the short routine with a graceful dip. He lowered her toward the floor, his eyes on hers, before slowly pulling her up straight again. He held onto her for a second or so after the music ended. Clearing her throat, she stepped back and turned to Van, hoping that she didn't look as warm as she felt. "See? Now you try."

Van was leaning against the back of the sofa, arms crossed over her chest. "Actually, I'm bored," she said. "Let's stop."

Isaac frowned. "Are you kidding me? Van, you're the one who wanted to do this."

She shrugged. "I know, but I don't anymore. Maybe I don't want to do a first dance at all."

"Isaac," Van said as they lay in bed that night. She was tucked under his arm, her head against his bare chest. "I was looking at house listings online today."

" _House_ listings?"

"Just in Jersey. Not too far outside of the city. Maybe we can go look at a few this weekend?"

"Houses, Van?"

She shrugged. "I mean, we're not going to live in this apartment forever. We need space to spread out, to start getting ready for kids—"

"How about we get through the wedding before we start thinking about a house and kids."

"Are we really going to be a married couple in a two bedroom apartment with a roommate?"

Isaac sighed. "Are we back to this?" The last time they had a conversation about making Maxie move out, Isaac ended up officially moving _in_ , just to placate Van. He had nothing left to offer her, though. He already lived there. He was already marrying her.

He was _not_ buying a house.

"Yes, we are," said Van.

"Why? What did you see today that you didn't like? What struck a chord?"

"Nothing _struck a chord_. I'm just being realistic. We're about to be _married_."

"Fine," he conceded. "We'll _look_ at places, alright? I'm tired, can we talk about it tomorrow?" With a sigh, she rolled off of him and turned onto her side. "You know," he said, "when Maxie left for those couple of weeks after you two fought about her dad, you were _beside_ yourself."

"That was because I didn't know where she was. I was just worried."

"When she got back, you said this place wasn't the same without her."

"Well. Maybe a little change is in order."

Van was asleep just a little while later, but Isaac lay awake, staring through the darkness at the ceiling. And then his eyes went in the direction of Maxie's room. It was almost like someone called his name. He wondered if she was asleep, but as quickly as the question came to him, he knew the answer.

She _was_ awake. He didn't know how he could be so sure, and yet he was.

Glancing at an immobile Van, he slowly slid out from beneath their thin sheets and made his way toward the door. He opened it, shutting it carefully behind him so as not to make a sound. Stealing slowly across the dark apartment, he stopped at Maxie's bedroom door and pushed it open.

She sat up, her eyes wide. Awake. He knew it.

"Isaac?" He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. "What are you doing?"

What was he doing? He didn't know. But his legs carried him to her, to her bed, where he climbed in beside her. "Maxie," he heard himself whisper. And then she was in his arms, all of her small body against all of his large one. He lowered his face to her hair and inhaled her scent. The sensation of her lips brushing against his chest stirred him.

"How did you know I was awake?" she asked.

"I just knew. I could just feel you."

"You should go back," she said, yet her arms tightened around him and she raised her face to his. He kissed her, long and softly. He felt her relax in his embrace, her skin melting into his. He shifted his weight on top of her and pushed her shorts down her hips.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. When he lowered his own shorts, a loud moan escaped her. He froze. " _Sh-h_."

"Get up!" she whispered, reaching for her shorts, but he stopped her.

"Just be quiet."

"I can't."

He kicked off his boxers. "Try." His lips found the curve of her neck, his hands continued their tour of her private places as he adjusted himself. _But what if Van had heard her?_ Maxie opened her mouth to accommodate his probing tongue. _What if Van was in the bedroom, patting the empty side of her bed, wondering where he was?_ He pushed her legs open wider, gently thrust against her, silently begging her. _What if, at that very moment, Van was on her way to the door to look for him?_ And then he entered her, slowly but firmly. Another cry escaped her.

" _Sh-h_!" he hushed. "Don't make a sound, Maxie." He gently pulled back and thrust forward again, biting down on his bottom lip to hold back his own cries of pleasure. She was so warm, so familiar. Yes, he was exactly where he belonged, engulfed in her. " _Sh-h, sh-h_..." he coaxed, gripping her tighter, pulling her closer, digging deeper and deeper. She clung to him, gave him all of her. The sounds of her breathing against his ear, moaning, whispering his name. So _familiar_. How many times had he heard it all before?

Forget Van. Forget being too loud. Forget _everything_. Nothing mattered to him but her, and _them_ , and that very moment.

He squeezed her even tighter. So tight he heard her gasp for breath, but he didn't let her go. He held her, tightly, tightly, tightly, until he had enough of her, and then finally—

"Isaac!" Van cried.

His eyes shot open. A bit disoriented, he peered around at his surroundings. He was no longer in Maxie's bedroom, no longer in her arms, but lying beside Van. "Are you okay?" she asked. "I think you were having a nightmare."

He blinked to clear up some of the lingering slumber and confusion that clouded his brain. "What?"

"Were you having a nightmare?" she asked.

"A nightmare?"

"You were moving around a lot. Groaning."

"Oh," he said. "Yeah, must have been a nightmare."

But it was far from a nightmare. He could still feel Maxie's skin against the palms of his hands, he could still taste her, he could still _smell_ her. He looked toward her room and he just _knew_ that she was awake. A nightmare? No, it was much too perfect to be a nightmare, too _real_ to be a dream _._ Almost like a memory.

* * *

Gnar flung Maxie off the diving board of the long pool in Kathy's backyard. She barely managed a shriek before she was under water and he was diving in after her. She came up and sucked in a large breath of air before Gnar's arms were around her waist and he was pulling her under again. They wrestled and splashed and laughed, jumping on each other and pulling one another under as Van watched from the side where she sunbathed.

They all—Van and Isaac, and Maxie and Gnar—made a trip to Van and Maxie's childhood home on Long Island for a day of barbequing. Though Maxie never looked forward to family gatherings anymore, she had been looking forward to the pool she hadn't swam in since high school.

Finally, she went to the edge to rest. "Okay," she said, breathlessly. "I give up."

"Of course you do," he replied, splashing her again. "I'm bigger than you and stronger than you and you can never beat me."

Glaring at him, she lunged forward, jumping on his shoulders to push him under, only he was too big and too strong just as he said, and he easily picked her up and flung her six feet across the water. He swam to her and had her again before she even gained her bearings, and he held her and dunked her, only pulling her back up to demand her surrender.

"Alright, you two!" Kathy called, coming out of the back door with a large plate of corn on the cob for the grill. Isaac, who was installing the gas tank, looked over his shoulder at Maxie and Gnar for a moment before turning away again. "Try not to drown each other before we even eat lunch!" Kathy snapped.

"Carry me out," Maxie said, climbing onto Gnar's back and wrapping her legs around his waist. He carried her out and strutted around the perimeter of the pool, wearing her like a backpack before falling back into the water and getting out again.

"Come on," Kathy insisted, motioning for them to take their towels. "You guys go in and start drying off and getting ready. I want everyone decent at the table. You, too, Van. You're starting to burn."

"I just need to get my back a little longer," she said, turning onto her belly. "You guys go first, I'll get ready after."

"No one else is going to swim?" Maxie asked, perplexed. Though everyone had on a swimsuit, she and Gnar were the only ones who had gotten in the pool.

"I can't get my hair wet," Van said.

"I just don't feel like it right now," Kathy said.

Maxie turned to Isaac who hadn't replied. "What's your excuse?" she asked him. "You love to swim."

Van propped herself and raised her sunglasses to look at her. "Does he?"

"Yes, Max, does he?" said Kathy.

Still looking at Isaac, Maxie said, "Well. Don't you?"

He shrugged. "I just don't feel like it, either."

"There you go," Kathy said. "No one else is swimming so why don't you two get dressed?"

Conceding, Maxie led Gnar into the house where she showed him the guest bathroom in the back hallway. "Where will you be?"

"Van and I had a bathroom in our room," Maxie said. "I'm going to use that one."

His eyes lit up. "Your bedroom, huh? Can I see it?"

With a teasing grin, she shook her head. "No boys allowed in the bedroom, Daniel."

"Oh," he said, returning her grin. "Will I be the first? Now I _have_ to see it."

She brought him upstairs to the bedroom that she'd once shared with Van. It was almost the same as it had been years before when she still lived in it, only cleaner and more generic for guests if Kathy ever had any. Maxie didn't think she did, though. "This was my bed," she said, plopping down on the mattress closer to the window.

"Am I really the first guy that's been in here?" he asked.

"No. You're the first guy _I've_ brought in here, though."

"Hmm," he said, peering around. She watched him, still dripping wet from their swim, dressed in nothing but his thin swim trunks. Maxie had never been able to resist Isaac, especially not so bare, especially not _wet_. She wondered how she was ever able to manage any self-control around Gnar.

Once in a while she found herself lost in her own thoughts as she stared at his handsome face, or toned chest. She tried to deny the giddiness in the pit of her stomach whenever he picked her up with ease or carried her around. His smile was often hypnotizing, as well as a certain look he got in his eyes when he gazed at her, biting down on his bottom lip the way he did—

She blinked and stood. "Anyway, we should probably get dressed."

"I think we have time," he said, stepping in her path as she tried to leave the room. His arms fell around her and he lowered his mouth to hers. She moaned softly as his lips met hers, full and soft and demanding.

"I miss kissing you," he whispered against her mouth, pushing her gently back toward her old bed. They fell back on the mattress, Gnar on top of her. Both still dripping wet under the AC, Maxie was strikingly aware of the heat emanating from Gnar's bare skin pressed against hers.

She moaned again as his fingers trailed up her back. He never told her to be quiet.

She touched him; his muscular arms, broad back, wide, hard chest. _So much like Isaac_ , she thought. When she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend...

Not that she needed to. Gnar was almost every bit as desirable.

And nearly every bit as forbidden, too.

Maxie opened her eyes—when had they drifted shut?—and willed herself to stop him. "Anyone can come in," she said.

"Like who? Van is still tanning, Isaac and Kathy are cooking, Tony's not even here, thanks to Isaac's right hook." As he spoke, he tugged at the strings of Maxie's bikini top. He dropped a kiss on her neck, another on her collarbone, another between the valley of her breasts. The string fell loose.

Suddenly the door opened. Gnar and Maxie jumped, much like the teenagers in high school they seemed to be portraying would, as Isaac stepped inside. "Oh," he said, appearing equally as startled. His wide eyes went from a glowering Gnar to a flushed Maxie, and then he dropped them. "Sorry. I was looking for the bathroom."

"Downstairs, on the left," Maxie said, getting to her feet as she casually held her bikini top against herself. "Maybe you can show him the way, Gnar. I'm going to hop in the shower in here."

"Maybe I could join you?" he suggested.

She almost looked at Isaac again, but couldn't bring herself to do it. Shaking her head, she said, "I'll meet you back outside for lunch."

Without raising her eyes to either of them again, she hurried into the bathroom and shut the door behind her, wondering if any of her shame still lingered in the room behind her.

Just before the family was due to sit down for lunch, Isaac found Maxie off in the back yard where the grass ended and the woods began. She was sitting just at the edge, looking off into the trees when Isaac approached. He took a seat a few feet away from her and also gazed ahead. "I used to go in there," she said, at last.

"Why?"

She shrugged. "Just to think, mostly." She chuckled. "And get high. I'd walk as far back as I could, always paranoid that Kathy would come out the back door and smell the smoke."

"Did she?"

"No."

Arnold had. Or so he said he had. Maxie always wondered if he'd just seen her sneak out and followed her. She could never forget the way her heart nearly stopped when she saw him come through the brush. He'd caught her, red handed, lungs still full from her last inhale.

' _What are you doing?' he asks._

Maxie opens her mouth to reply and grey smoke floods out instead. Arnold's eyes widen, and then, to Maxie's surprise, he starts to laugh. 'Relax,' he says, raising his palms to her. 'I used to get high when I was your age.'

' _You did?'_

' _Sure. Hey, you mind if I take a puff?'_

This time, it's Maxie's eyes that widen. She can't tell if he's serious. Still, she extends the joint to him. His eyes light up as it touches his fingers and he raises it to his mouth. He inhales deeply from it and Maxie can't help but laugh when he exhales a fit of coughs. 'Slow down, old man,' she jokes.

He laughs, too. 'I guess these lungs aren't what they used to be.' Giving her the joint back, he motions for her to sit back down. She does so and he takes a seat beside her. 'I'm not condoning this,' he says. 'But I do know what today is, so I'm giving you a pass.'

Maxie nods. It's her mother's birthday.

Shutting her eyes, she takes another puff herself before offering it to Arnold again. 'One more try?'

With a shrug, he takes it. The result is more coughing, yet Maxie can still see his eyes drift downward a bit, and his smile broadens. 'Hey,' he says. 'How 'bout we get some ice cream after this?'

' _How about ice cream_ and _pizza?'_

' _And a movie?'_

' _Oh! That new comedy just came out today!'_

' _That's what I was thinking,' he says. 'Alright, then. It's a date.'_

Maxie shoots him a side glance. A date?

She reminds herself that it's just an expression. Still, it rubs her the wrong way coming from Arnold. Deciding she's had enough, she stubs out the joint and attempts to get to her feet. Arnold takes her by the hand and pulls her back down. 'Hey, wait. Let's just sit for a while. It's beautiful out today, huh? These are my favorite kinds of days. Sunny and warm, but still breezy.'

Maxie nods, but really she's heard nothing he's said. She's too focused on his hand, still holding hers. Casually pulling it away, she pretends to swat at a fly. 'Too many bugs out here, don't you think?'

' _C'mon, Max, don't tell me you're afraid of a few insects. I never took you for the girly girl.' He shifts his weight toward her, she feels his hand go through her hair. 'Though you're as beautiful as any beauty queen.'_

She looks at him, her eyes bulging. He doesn't seem to notice the shock on her face. He's still gazing at her hair, running his fingers threw her curls, down her back. The hairs on her arms stand up, her stomach turns. Is he...? No, that's ridiculous. He wouldn't.

And yet, Maxie can feel herself growing more discomfited with every second that passes.

' _We should go back now, Arnold,' Maxie says._

' _Hey,' he says gently, meeting her gaze with a small grin. 'Don't worry about the bugs, alright? I'll protect you.'_

And then he leans forward. Before she can comprehend what's happening, his mouth is pressed to hers, his hand is behind her head, holding it in place, his tongue is prodding at her closed lips. Jerking back, she stumbles off the log, catching herself on her elbows.

' _Maxie,' he says, but she's already scrambling to her feet, racing back toward the house._

"Hey, Max," Isaac said, jerking her out of her memories. She blinked back the tears welling in her eyes and looked at him.

"Yes?"

"Sorry for earlier. Walking in on you and Gnar, I mean."

Sorry? She wondered what the _old_ Isaac would have done had he walked in on such a thing. Gnar would have been the sorry one, she knew. She shrugged. "Don't be. You weren't interrupting anything."

With a scoff, he said, "It looked like I was."

"Trust me," she replied, getting to her feet. "You weren't."

"So, is Tony ever coming back or have we seen the last of him?" Gnar asked Kathy.

She rolled her eyes. "He thinks I'm a traitor for forgiving Isaac and he thinks Van's a traitor for never _needing_ to forgive him."

"We're family," Van said. "He'll get over it."

Maxie said nothing. Isaac definitely said nothing. They both preferred the meal without Tony, anyway. Isaac only wished Kathy hadn't shown up, either. Of course, he couldn't punch _her_ in the face. "So, how are the wedding plans coming?" Kathy asked. "Have you decided how you're going to wear your hair, Savannah?"

"I think I'm going to wear it up," Van replied. "Pulled off my face. I have the cheekbones for it."

"If only those cheekbones could get your picture in a magazine," Kathy said.

Maxie rolled her eyes. She hadn't even gotten a chance to taste everything on her plate before Kathy took a shot at someone. "Don't start, Mom," Van groaned, dropping her fork to massage her temples.

"What? I'm just saying. How long has it been since you started modeling? When are you going to _actually_ start modeling?"

"I _do_ model. Just because I'm not on the cover of a magazine doesn't mean I don't. This stuff takes time."

"Fine, I'll stop asking. I just hope I'm not blind with age by the time there's actually something to see. I mean, even _Max_ has been in a magazine."

"You were Max? When?" Gnar asked.

"Long time ago," Maxie said with the wave of a hand. "High school."

"It wasn't _real_ modeling," Van piped up. "Some kid took the pictures for a school project. That barely counts."

"If they ended up in a magazine, they must have counted for something," Isaac said.

"Some random Italian magazine. We don't even know what the article said. It could have been a herpes advertisement for all we know."

Maxie frowned. "It was _not_ a herpes advertisement. It was an art magazine. Isaac, you lived in Italy for a while right? Have you ever heard of _Audace!_?"

His eyes widened. "I _have_ actually. That's not just _some_ Italian magazine. That's some _big_ Italian magazine. How the hell did you get your pictures in there?"

"The photographer—"

"He was _hardly_ a photographer," Van mumbled.

"—sold the photos to the magazine. It was an issue about ballet. I was dancing in the pictures."

"They were inappropriate," said Kathy.

Gnar grinned. "I want to see."

With a shrug, Maxie said, "We don't have it anymore."

"Where is it?" Isaac asked.

"Well, we left the magazine out on the coffee table for a while, but like I said, the photos were a little inappropriate. She was only seventeen when they were taken, and she was wearing this thin little leotard, doing splits—"

"I was _dancing_ ," Maxie said.

"They were provocative," Kathy countered. "You could practically see your nipples protruding from under that thin fabric."

Gnar leaned closer to her ear. "I _have_ to see these photos," he said.

"What happened to the magazine?" Isaac pressed.

"I threw it away," Van said at last. "Accidentally."

"How did you _accidentally_ throw away a magazine with Maxie's photos in it?"

She shrugged. "I was cleaning. Maxie just left it out—"

"On _my_ desk. Why were you cleaning _my_ desk?"

"It was an accident!" Van said. "I've said sorry like a thousand times, Jesus. I'm sure you can find the photos online somewhere. And it isn't like we don't have a thousand other ones just like them in the family albums. We've taken dozens of pictures of you dancing over the years."

"And how many of _those_ were published in a magazine?" Isaac asked.

Van glared at him. "Ugh, forget about the magazine, alright?" Kathy groaned. "I'm sorry I brought it up. Maxie, how are you, otherwise? How are things coming along?"

"Things are great, actually. I got a few copies of my cookbook printed, I'm just waiting to hear back from a couple bookstores about distribution now."

"And how long will that take?"

"It'll happen when it happens!" Van snapped.

Kathy rolled her eyes. As if _she_ had something to be annoyed about. "I don't know why you girls get so upset. I just _worry_ about you. I had big dreams, too, you know. I wanted to be a singer when I was your age. And I had the talent, too. But I _still_ went to college, and I _still_ got my law degree, and it's a good things because obviously I didn't make it in the entertainment industry, did I?"

"Right, Mother, because _all_ Maxie and I want out of life are law degrees," Van said.

"I actually have a degree," Maxie pointed out.

"And look how much good it's doing you," Kathy said. Maxie shrugged.

"Hey, speaking of that, Max, I forgot to tell you. Avery called you yesterday." Maxie rolled her eyes. Avery had been calling her non-stop since Bea had relayed Maxie's comment about taking the job for the sake of the money.

"For some Broadway job?" Van said.

Kathy's eyes widened. " _Broadway_? Maxie, that's great! Why haven't you told us?"

"Didn't you turn that down, Max?" Isaac piped up.

"You knew about it?" Van asked.

He shrugged. "Max may have mentioned it."

"You turned it down, Maxie?" Kathy demanded.

"I'm not interested."

"But it's Broadway!" she cried.

"Mom..." Van said, her tone a warning.

"I'm just—!" She paused and took a deep breath. Far more calmly, she said, "I'm just _asking_ , Maxie. Did you even _think_ about it?"

"A little."

"I don't know, Max. A show on Broadway? Maybe that deserves more than a _little_ thought," Van said.

Maxie shrugged. "Look, it's not a big deal. I just don't want to do it."

"Maybe you could just do it until something kicks off with your book," Van suggested. "You know? As just a way to pass the time, if anything. I mean, it wouldn't hurt, right? It's not like you don't _like_ dancing. I see you dancing around all the time. Right, Isaac?"

"I don't know, Van," he replied, not looking up from his plate.

"Well, what do _you_ think, Gnar?" Kathy asked.

His shoulders rose and fell. "I don't know. I think it sounds like a pretty solid opportunity."

Maxie stopped chewing and glared at him. " _See_ ," Kathy said. "This could be the universe offering you one last chance. With all of those tattoos, you may never see an opportunity like this again."

Dropping her cutlery, she pushed her chair out and left the table without a word. "Oh, Max," she heard Kathy groan from behind her, but she stormed off the porch before anyone else could speak.

Gnar found her in the front yard, leaning against the trunk of Isaac's car. "What's your problem?" he demanded.

"Her!" Maxie lashed out, jabbing a finger toward the house. "And _you_ , frankly! All I need is another person against me!"

"What are you talking about? I'm not _against_ you—"

"Yes, you are! When you take _their_ side in a conversation like that, you're against me! For fucks sake, I don't _want_ to take that job!"

"Then don't!"

"Why? So I can have Kathy and Van and now _you_ looking down on me?"

He narrowed his eyes. "What are you _talking_ about? No one is looking down on you, Max. _Especially_ not me. All I said was it's a good opportunity—"

"Well, it isn't a good opportunity! You know why? Because it won't make me happy! I mean for _once_ in my life can I just do what _I_ want, can I just _have_ what _I_ want?"

"Yes, Maxie, yes! Who the hell is stopping you?"

"You! And them! With your opinions! Disapproving of everything I do! My hair! My tattoos! My friends! My career choices!"

"Whoa!" he cried, throwing his hands up. "Maxie, I'm not _them_ , alright? I'm _me_. Just because I agree with one thing Kathy says doesn't mean I'm your enemy. It doesn't mean I disapprove of anything, it doesn't mean I don't want you to be happy. You know I believe in you, you know that I'm confident you'll be successful, no matter what route you take. All I said is taking the choreography job is a good opportunity. My opinion isn't end-all, be-all."

"It is," she said, still glaring at him. "You obviously don't understand, but it is."

He shook his head. "No, I don't understand. You're right. I'm sorry I'm not _Isaac_."

She recoiled. " _Excuse_ me?"

"You heard what I said. I'm sorry I'm not Isaac, Maxie. I'm sorry neither one of my parents killed themselves, I'm sorry I'm not a fucking loner, I'm sorry I prefer to trust people over isolating myself! I'm sorry I don't punch people in the face for disagreeing with you!"

Maxie took a step back, then another, and then turned away. She wanted to run, but she had nowhere to go. Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked out into the evening, wishing she could disappear into the breeze. Behind her, Gnar said, "Why don't you just come back to the table, Max? They piss you off, I get it. Whose family doesn't piss them off?"

Spinning around, she stormed forward, shoving him back. "They're _not_ my family!" she lashed out. The words seemed to have exploded out of her, and as soon as she spoke them, she regretted it. Slapping her hand over her mouth, she stumbled back. "Max," he said, gently.

"I'm going to go for a walk," she said, turning toward the road.

"I'll go with you!" he called, but she was already at the end of the driveway, hurrying off down the quiet street.

#

NOW

Vince walked into Uptown Steakhouse as Maxie stood in the front, chatting with the hostess about the particularly rude couple that Maxie was serving. When she saw him, she inhaled sharply.

He smiled. "Well, hello, stranger. It's been a while."

She forced a smile and let him embrace her. "Yeah," she said. "How are you?"

"I'm alright. Been calling you."

"Oh?"

She knew that. She'd been avoiding his calls for weeks.

He chuckled. "You haven't received any of them, huh?"

"I guess not," Maxie lied. "Must be something up with my phone."

"Oh, yeah?" Vince pulled out his phone, dialed her number, and raised it to his ear. A moment later, Maxie's phone began to vibrate from the pocket of her apron.

She rolled her eyes as he laughed. "What's going on with you?" he asked. "Don't tell me you got tired of me that quickly."

"I'm just busy," she said.

"You've always been busy."

"Well, now I'm even more busy."

"Is it because I didn't let you come in that night?" he asked. "Because I've been feeling like shit about it ever since. I mean, aside from everything else, we're friends, right? I shouldn't have just sent you back into the rain."

She shrugged. "You had company, I get it. How's that going, anyway? Are you still seeing her?"

"Not exclusively," he said. "Not so seriously that I couldn't see you, too."

Maxie tried not to wince beneath his words. How had she allowed herself to become a girl who could be propositioned with such an offer? "Sorry," she said. "No."

He frowned. "You know, _you_ were the one that wanted things the way they were between us."

"I know that," she said.

" _You're_ the one who insisted on the no strings," he went on. "You're the one who rejected me when I even tried to _hug_ you. You preferred leaving my house to go home in the middle of the night over just staying and cuddling—"

"I know that!" she repeated. "I know that's what I wanted. But it isn't what I want anymore. It's not who I am, Vince."

He nodded. "I know that, Maxie. That's why I'm standing here right now. I have something for you," he said, reaching in his pocket. When he withdrew Maxie's tiny golden lock pendant, she nearly crumbled at his feet.

"Oh, my God," she breathed. "Where...?"

She took it from him, turned it over in her fingers, examined the pendant for any sign of damage or mistreatment. Isaac had given her that lock. It was all she had left of him. Of _them_.

"I found it when I was cleaning last week," he said.

She shook her head, still clutching it. "No, I would've noticed if I'd lost it," she said. How could she have missed it? It had become a source of comfort for her. A sacred talisman, physical contentment that fit in the palm of her hand. Always in her purse, in her pocket, close enough for her to grab, hold, stroke when she needed strength.

Of course, since she'd found out the truth about Van and Isaac, she sought out strength in other places.

Work.

Tattoos.

Meaningless sex.

Daniel Gnar.

"Thank you," she said. "Vince, _thank_ you."

"It's no problem, Max. But if you want to repay me, anyway, you can let me take you out. On a real date. Strings attached."

She smiled but shook her head. "I'm sorry. I can't."

"I figured you'd say that."

She embraced him. "Friends?" she asked, burying her face in the curve of his neck.

"Always," he replied.

When she opened her eyes, she glanced over Vince's shoulder and gasped. Standing at the front door of the restaurant, his jaw taut, his hands in fists, his gaze black and unwavering, was Gnar. For a moment, they simply stared at one another, Gnar not even blinking. And then he pivoted and left.

"Daniel, wait!" Maxie cried, breaking free from Vince's grasp and running out after him. His car was parked just out front and he didn't even turn around as he made his way to it. Maxie caught him just before he reached the driver's side door. "Wait," she said.

"I'm sorry," he replied, coolly. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You weren't interrupting anything. He just stopped by to say hi."

"Yeah? Your _fuck buddy_ just wanted to say hello?"

Maxie recoiled, took a step back. "He's not...I haven't seen him since..."

"Is this what it's going to be? You get mad at him and coming running to me? You get mad at me and go running to him?"

"No! I told you, he just stopped by to say hi. I haven't seen or spoken to him since that night, Daniel. There's nothing going on between us."

"Like there was nothing going on between you and Isaac?" Her eyes widened. Shaking her head, she turned away but he stopped her. "I didn't come to fight with you, Maxie. We've been fighting for a whole fucking week."

Crossing her arms over her chest, she shrugged. "Why didn't you call?"

"Why didn't _you_ call?"

"Because _you_ should have!" she snapped.

"And why's that?" he asked. "Because I expressed my opinion? Because I expressed my opinion and didn't take it back just because you didn't like it? Or because I didn't come back to you on my knees apologizing for it?"

" _None_ of those things!"

"Listen, Max, I don't blame you for reacting this way because I know what you're used to. But I'm not that. I'm not going to apologize when I have nothing to be sorry for, alright? But I _am_ going to ask you to stop being upset with me," he said, raising his fingers to stroke her cheek. "At least long enough to come and see the surprise I have for you."

She narrowed her eyes. "What surprise?"

He wrapped his arms around her and dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. "I missed you," he admitted softly. She didn't reply and he gave her a gentle shake. "Did you miss me?"

"A little," she grumbled. He gave her another shake. "Fine," she conceded, finally managing a small smile. "A lot."

He smiled, too. "What time are you finished here?"

"In just a few minutes. Will you wait for me?"

Leaning down to meet her lips, he asked, "The question is, when will I _stop_ waiting for you?"

"Oh no," Maxie said as Gnar grabbed the large super's ring with the copies of all of the building's tenants' keys on it; the same keys he'd used to take her on an illicit exploration through his neighbors' apartments just months before. "Where are we going?"

He led her up to the fifth floor of his building where they stopped at the first apartment. "I came to fix her heater earlier," he said, "and I saw something that I know you'll love."

Pushing the door open, he led her inside. They walked to the kitchen where he motioned toward the back wall. It was a bookshelf, covered from top to bottom with cookbooks. Maxie inhaled sharply and rushed to it. There were cookbooks from all over the world on that shelf, some old, some brand new, some in other languages. Gnar stood behind her as she selected ones to pull off the shelf and flip through, carefully replacing each one before grabbing another. She sank to the floor where she delved into them, using her phone to snap photos of some of the pages.

"Who lives here?" she asked. "You think I could accidentally bump into her one day? Maybe she'll invite me in for coffee?"

Gnar laughed. "Maybe."

"All of the pages are so clean. Do you think she just collects them?"

"I don't think so," he said. "She's made some notes in this one on the table."

"Let me see," Maxie said, eyes flashing with interest. Gnar picked the open book up from the table and gave it to her. She gasped. "Oh, my God. Daniel!"

He laughed again, nearly as giddy as she was. "Surprise."

"This is _mine_!" she cried, jumping to her feet. "Oh, my God! Look, she highlighted some of the recipes in the table of contents! She put a star next to this one!"

"I think you should sign it for her," he said, grabbing a pen off the table. "Here."

Her eyes widened, but her smile was even wider. "I can't! What will she think if she comes home and her book is magically signed?"

"She'll think it came that way," he said. "She'll think she just missed it. She'll be pleasantly surprised."

Still smiling, Maxie shook her head. "I can't."

"Maxie, we broke into her house. I don't think you'll hurt her any worse by signing her cookbook."

"You're right!" she said with an excited hop. "I'm going to sign it!"

He stood back as she set the book back down on the table and scribbled her name on the inside cover. "There," she said, admiring it a moment longer. Gnar watched her, her face flushed, her smile never ending. When she looked up at him, his eyes were so full she lost her breath. "Daniel. _Thank you_ ," she said.

"It really was my pleasure," he said. "C'mon. Let's go back downstairs."

Back down in Gnar's apartment, Maxie stopped him at the door. "Daniel, I need to tell you something," she said. "Your offer...to go away together. I haven't forgotten about it."

His back straightened, he nodded once. "And?"

"And I haven't decided, either. But I just want you to know that I'm considering."

Without replying, he kissed her, long and fully. His fingers entwined themselves in her hair, holding her even closer, taking in even more of her. And then his arms were wrapped around her, and he lifted her up, setting her down again on the sofa.

Her heart raced. Desire tugged at the lower half of her body. Her brain was hazy with longing. Her mouth, her hands, her fingers, they seemed as if they were all operating of their own accord.

Still, Isaac's face appeared in her mind.

She pushed it out.

Gnar lifted her shirt, pulled it over her head. In a moment, they would cross a line. They would cross a line that Maxie would never be able to uncross.

She could hear Isaac's voice in her subconscious.

She ignored it.

Gnar lowered his mouth to her breast. She let out a desperate cry and he didn't move to silence her. She would never have to be silent with Gnar.

She would never have to hide. She would never have to pretend. Gnar wasn't marrying her best friend.

Gnar wasn't Isaac.

That was his saving grace. That was his downfall.

"Daniel," Maxie whispered, as his mouth moved down the center of her torso. His mouth, his lips and his tongue. He reached her belt and peered up to look at her as he unbuckled it. Slowly he slid her jeans down her hips.

"Is this what you want?" he asked.

Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. She was trembling. With nerves. With longing. With remorse. With need. "Yes," she said.

He discarded her pants, then pulled off his own shirt next. His chest was glorious. His chest and his arms, his handsome face, his deep cinnamon eyes, devouring every inch of her.

He kissed the valley between her breasts, her navel, gently tugged at her panties. Then he stopped. "His?"

Maxie inhaled sharply as his fingers moved over the tiny tattoo hidden just below the band of her lacy panties. " _Whose_?" he asked, meeting her eyes.

There was a short silence between them before Maxie replied, "It's a religious tattoo."

He chuckled. Was it because he found the idea of the tattoo funny? Or the idea that she would think he'd actually believe something so absurd? Shaking his head, he slowly climbed off of her. "I don't think we should do this," he said.

"Alright," she said.

"You should make a decision. You should decide what you want from me."

She nodded. "Alright."

"In the meantime—"

"I'll go," she said, standing.

"No," he said. "That's not what I was going to say."

She couldn't even look him in the eyes. "I know that, Daniel. But I need to go."

* * *

Isaac sat behind the desk of his office in the gym while Gnar stood across from him, going over a list of inventory to be ordered. "Oh," he said, raising his pen. "We need another set of fifty pound weights."

Isaac raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with the old ones?"

Gnar shrugged. "They're gone."

" _Gone_?"

"Someone stole 'em," he elaborated.

Isaac frowned. "How the hell did someone walk out of here with two fifty pound weights and no one noticed?"

"I don't pat people down when they leave," said Gnar.

"They're fifty pound weights, Daniel, I wouldn't think you'd have to." Isaac massaged his temple. "This is the third thing that's gone missing since last month. And I can't even believe the list of shit that's broken. When the hell did this place start falling apart?"

Gnar didn't reply, but the answer was clear. With both of them so occupied with Van and Maxie, when was there time to attend to a gym? "You _are_ planning a wedding," Gnar pointed out.

Isaac nodded. "You're right, I am. What's your excuse?" Before Gnar could reply, there was a knock at the door. When they looked up, Gnar paled.

Standing just outside of the office window, smiling widely at the two men inside, was Elanna. She raised her eyebrow at Gnar flirtatiously and motioned for him to step out. "What the hell is _she_ doing here?" Isaac demanded.

"She's...I...umm..." Gnar dropped the clipboard he was holding down on Isaac's desk and hurried to meet Elanna, failing to shut the office door tightly behind him. "What the _fuck_ are you _doing_ here?" Isaac heard him demand.

"I wanted to see you, Danny," Elanna replied. _Danny_? She moved closer to him, whispered something Isaac couldn't catch, but by her mischievous grin and the flash of her eyes, he didn't need to hear a word to know what she'd said. But Gnar recoiled and took a step back.

"Are you insane?" he snapped. "That was one fucking night, Elanna. _One_."

"Two," she said.

"Whatever. Two nights. Why the hell are you _showing up_ at my job? Who do you think you are?"

At last, Elanna's smug grin faded. Her brows furrowed and she looked up at Gnar, puzzled. "Why are you being so mean? I just wanted to see you—"

"I have a girlfriend," he said. "Or have you forgotten? Because if I recall correctly, you knew exactly who she was when you spent half the night we were together insulting her."

Leaning closer to him, Elanna spat, "But I sure shut up when you _fucked me_ on her side of the bed, didn't I? Or have _you_ forgotten?"

Gnar smirked. "No, I remember. And as much as I would love to shut you up again right now, I'm not longer interested in doing it by those means. So how about you just turn around and leave? And we can pretend you didn't just humiliate yourself by showing up here in the first place."

She glared up at him, nostrils flared, her shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths. "You want me to leave?" she said. "Gladly. I'll leave and make my way right to your _girlfriend's_ place and tell her exactly what you were doing three nights ago, right before you called her to say goodnight." With that, Elanna pivoted and made her way toward the exit, only to be hauled back almost violently by Gnar. He shoved her back into the corner, out of Isaac's sight, though he could still just make out their words.

"Listen, bitch," Gnar growled. "You don't want to play this game with me because I can assure you, you won't win. You're going to turn around and leave, just like I said, except you aren't going to go anywhere near Maxie. In fact, I don't even want you breathing in her direction. I'm sure there are a line of models, designers, photographers, directors—and whatever the hell else— waiting for you to come spread your legs to them for a little boost up the social ladder, and you and I both know that's no issue for you. So do yourself a favor and run along to one of _them_. It was fun, Elanna, but I prefer a girl with at least a _shred_ of self-respect."

Suddenly Gnar stumbled back, obviously the result of an outraged shove from Elanna. "Fuck you!" she cried. "I'm _telling_ her! And you're not going to do anything about it!" Gnar moved out of sight again, followed by silence. And then Elanna gasped. "You... You told me you _erased_ those."

"Obviously I lied. So get the fuck out of here and go back to whatever celebrity whorehouse you crawled out of, or I'm going to send these pictures to every website and magazine I can find, Elanna. This _good girl_ façade you're portraying for the rest of the world will be ruined faster than you can climb into bed with your next business opportunity."

"You wouldn't do that," said Elanna, though she didn't sound very convinced of her own words. With good reason, too, Isaac thought. She had no idea how low Gnar would stoop to protect himself.

"I don't know, Elanna," Gnar said lightly. "I think these photos are pretty impressive. Especially this one, with your leg bent like that and your fingers in your—"

"Alright!" she shrieked. "Fine. I won't say anything."

"I know you won't," he replied.

Isaac watched as she rushed forward and made her way toward the exit. Pausing, she turned back to Gnar who was still in the corner. "You're pathetic," she said. "She isn't your _girlfriend_. She doesn't even _care_ about you. I met Maxie for the first time about two years ago, you know. With Alex. We all thought she was something special, taming a beast like him. But she wasn't taming him. She was teasing him. And then she broke him. And she's doing the same exact thing to you as we speak. I give it a few months. A year, tops, before she leaves you in pieces. Maybe even for Isaac—who, by the way, she's _obviously_ in love with." Isaac sucked in a sharp breath. "She's playing you all. And you all are letting her. If you weren't _such_ an asshole, I would feel sorry for you."

"No pity from a whore. My loss," Gnar said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Elanna lowered her eyes. "You fall in love with the girl who will never love you back, and treat the girl who _will_ love you like _this_. What kind of sense does that make?"

Gnar laughed. "You love me, huh?"

"I could."

Shaking his head, he said, "Now who's pathetic?"

With a smirk and a scoff, she replied, "Still you."

Gnar remained in the hall for a short while after she left. When he returned to the office, Isaac bowed his head over a stack of papers as if he'd heard nothing. "Sorry," Gnar said. His voice was even but Isaac could still see the remnants of distress in his features. "Where were we?"

"What was that about?" Isaac asked, leaning back in his seat.

"Nothing," Gnar replied.

"Didn't sound like nothing."

Gnar narrowed his eyes. "Gossiping school girls, are we?"

Isaac grinned and nodded. "Touché. Back to inventory, then."

"Listen," Gnar said, leaning down over the desk. "Let's not stand here and pretend you've been the model fucking boyfriend these past two years, alright?"

With an innocent shrug, Isaac replied, "I wouldn't know, Daniel."

"Well, I would," he shot back. "And trust me, you haven't."

* * *

Van stumbled into the apartment, struggling to keep the large garment bag she was holding from dragging on the floor. Maxie set down the book she was reading to help her friend get into the house and lie the bag across the couch. "Do you know what this is?" Van asked excitedly.

"What?"

"My dress!" she yelled, and then she was jumping up and down, clapping her hands in celebration. "I tried it on again in the shop, Max, and oh, my God, it fits me like a dream. Isaac is going to _die_ when he sees me in it. Seriously."

Maxie smiled. "Congratulations, Van."

With her palms against her chest, Van plopped down in the armchair and sighed. "This is all becoming so real," she said. "Maxie, I'm going to be _married_ in a few months. Can you believe it? I'm going to be someone's _wife_."

_Isaac's wife_.

"How do you feel?" Maxie managed to ask. She only hoped Van wouldn't ask her the same question.

Exhaling as she leaned back, she said, "So happy. I mean, I thought this would never happen. The whole time we were together, he just kept giving me _nothing_. I was starting to think I would just be his girlfriend forever. But now look. I have a _wedding gown_! It's almost too good to be true."

"Did he propose the second time?" she asked.

"No. He more or less just... _agreed_. Anyway, I almost want to put on my dress _now_ and just walk around the house in it!" she laughed. "Of course, I'm not going to. I don't want to get it dirty. I could probably put it on really quickly, though, if _you_ wanted to see it, Max."

Maxie shrugged. "I've seen you in this dress about ten times, Van. I was there for every fitting, remember?"

"Yeah, but now it's _finished_! There aren't clips and pins holding it together." A giddy laugh escaped her. "Do you remember last year, when Isaac and I were broken up, and you and Mr. Mysterious were broken up? Do you remember how _pathetic_ we were? Now look at us. I'm getting married in a few months. Maybe if Gnar plays his cards right, you'll be next. Don't you think?"

But Maxie's thoughts still dwelled on the year before. Van and Isaac had been broken up. He'd disappeared for months, leaving both Van _and_ Maxie in a state of devastated grief. They had indeed been pathetic.

Then he'd returned for Maxie. One night, he was just there again. He'd made love to her. He'd promised the façade would be over soon. He'd demanded they tell Van the truth. And they would have, had he not gotten shot.

So why, _why_ had he proposed to Van? And when? Had he gone back to her first? Had that last night he and Maxie spent together been another one of his lies? Had his insistence to come clean been nothing but a show for her benefit? Maybe he never planned on telling Van the truth.

"When did you and Isaac get engaged?" Maxie asked. "The first time, I mean."

"When? Umm...I don't know. July, maybe? August? Wait, no...October, I think. I'm pretty sure it was October."

Maxie raised an eyebrow. It wasn't like Van not to remember such a significant event. " _After_ you broke up?"

"Oh. Were we broken up in October? September, then, I don't know! That was forever ago. Why are you interrogating me?" She turned away to fluff her dress.

Maxie stood. "Are you lying?"

Van's eyes widened. " _Excuse_ me?"

"You _are_ lying," she said. "He never proposed, did he? You were never engaged."

"We were!" Van insisted. "It was a secret—"

"How did he propose?"

"I already told you!"

"Well, tell me again," said Maxie. "What did he say?"

Van opened her mouth but no words came forth. Finally, she turned away. "I don't have anything to prove to you!" she snapped. "Who the hell do you think you are, anyway? I don't have to answer to you!"

Maxie stared at her friend in disbelief, slowly shaking her head. "Oh, my God. You lied," she said. "You lied to him!"

"What difference does it make?" Van lashed out, whipping back around to face Maxie. "That's the past! It's not like he doesn't want to marry me _now_!"

"Oh, my God," Maxie repeated, raising her hands to her temples.

Of course. Of _course_. Now it all made sense. Everything that had baffled Maxie, all of the ends that just didn't seem to meet, all of the questions, all of the _lies._ It all made complete sense. Had Maxie believed for a single second that Isaac could have ever agreed to marry Van when he'd been in his right mind?

The answer was yes, she _had_ believed it. And for a while, she hated him for it.

She'd _doubted_ him. She'd doubted _them._

"It's not that big of a deal," Van said. "You're overreacting—"

" _You lied_!" Maxie exploded. "You made him believe—you made _everyone_ believe—that he wanted to marry you! And you're going to go _through with it_! Van! You can't do this!"

"I know it wasn't right but I didn't _plan_ it. How was I supposed to know Elanna would bring up some stupid thing I said to her _months_ before? And, like I said, he wants to marry me _now._ Obviously he just needed a little push—"

"He has no idea what he wants!" Maxie yelled. "You can't _do_ this to him!"

"As if marrying me is such a punishment?" she shot back. "Look, we talked about marriage all the time, eventually it _would_ have happened!"

"Talking about marriage and _getting married_ are two different things, Savannah! And how's he supposed to know? He's vulnerable, and instead of being patient you're taking advantage of him!"

"I have been patient!" she shrieked. "I've been very patient! But how long am I supposed to wait, Maxie? How long am I supposed to give and give and give and get nothing in return?"

"As long as it takes!" she screamed. "You're supposed to wait! Like a normal person! Not lie to him! _Trick_ him!"

"I'm not _tricking_ him!"

"Yes, you are! You can't _do_ this to him!" she repeated.

"Well, what about me?" Van demanded. "This has been hard on me, too! But no one cares that _I've_ been affected! Don't _I_ deserve something?"

Maxie let out a humorless cackle. "He's the one that got shot, _he's_ the one that can't remember the details of his own life, and you think _you're_ owed something?" Shaking her head, Maxie said, "I've never met a more self-centered person."

Van's eyes widened. "This really isn't any of your business, anyway! It's between me and Isaac."

"Van. Listen to yourself. Listen to what you're _saying_. Isaac is about to marry you because he thinks that's what he wanted before, but it wasn't!"

"How do _you_ know what he wanted before?" Van challenged, crossing her arms over her chest. "You think you know him so much better than I do but maybe you don't. We were happy before—"

"You weren't even _together_ ," Maxie shot back. "I was there, Van. I was there for every one of your phone calls he didn't return, every one of your text messages he ignored, every one of your crying voicemails he probably didn't even _listen_ to!"

"You're just jealous," Van spat.

Maxie rolled her eyes, throwing her hands up. "Of course. Of course I am. Jealous and bitter. Miserable and lonely and unwanted and unloved! You've said it all before, Van!"

"Well, I'm going to say it again, because it's true! And now I see it more than ever!" Gathering her dress in her hands, she came around the couch. "You've always wanted him for yourself. You just can't _stand_ the thought of him marrying me."

"Oh, _please_. Before he got shot, the only person who couldn't stand the thought of you marrying Isaac was Isaac himself!"

"I'll never forget your face the day we told you we were getting married. You looked like you were going to _cry_ , Maxie, and don't deny it."

Maxie took a step back. She wasn't going to deny it. She didn't need to. "You tell him," she said. "Or I will."

"It's _none_ of your _business_!"

"You tell him or I will!"

"You know, my mother is right about you. Even _Tony_ is. All this time I spent trying to protect you, I should have been watching my _own_ back! If only I'd known _you'd_ be the one to stab me in it!"

With that, Van stormed past Maxie and into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

#

NOW

Gnar stood over Maxie as she packed and cried. She gave neither him, nor Isaac any explanation of why she was leaving. Van certainly gave no explanation. But the men didn't stop pressing.

"Maxie, will you please just speak to me?" Gnar asked for the umpteenth time. "Will you please just stop a second and tell me what's going on? What _happened_?"

"Nothing! I just can't spend another second under the same roof as her. I mean, you've been around her. Is it _that_ hard to believe?"

"Yes. It is. Because no one knows how to tolerate Van like you do, Max. What happened?"

"I woke up, that's what happened," she said, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. Her tears fell faster than she could catch them, blurring her vision. But she didn't stop shoving clothes into her duffle bag.

"You're obviously upset," Gnar said. "Maybe if you just calm down and think about this—"

"For once!" she lashed out, whirling around to face him, "can you _please_ just be on my side? Can you not try to convince me to see things from someone else's view? Can you not tell me to calm down? Can you not ask me to consider other things? Can you just support the decision I'm making? For _once_ , Gnar."

He sighed, defeated. "Fine. What can I pack?"

"I'm done," she said, getting to her feet. Collecting herself, she gathered her belongings and she and Gnar made their way to the front door. Isaac rushed out from the kitchen when she stepped into the living room. "Maxie," he said. " _Maximilienne_."

She paused and forced herself to look at him. She couldn't hold his gaze. Not knowing what she knew. "I'll see you later, Isaac."

"When? When later?"

She shrugged. "A few days. A week. Maybe more. I don't know."

"No," he said, taking hold of her arm. "You can't go."

"Yes, I can. I _am_ going."

"Why? Tell me what happened. One of you, _tell_ me what happened. If you both just relax, maybe we can fix it."

Looking toward the kitchen, Maxie said, "Van will fix it when she's ready." With a shrug, she said, "Or maybe I will. I guess we'll just have to see."

"Fuck you, Max!" Van shot back, storming forward.

Rolling her eyes, Maxie continued for the door. "What. The hell. _Happened_?" she heard Isaac ask again. Without even a last glance in his direction, Maxie left.

Jabbing at the elevator button, she said, "My dad has an extra bedroom at his place. He said it's mine, if I ever want it. Maybe I should take it. I could stay there—"

"You want to _move out_?"

"—and then I'm leaving. In a few months, I'll be in France, none of it will have mattered."

When he didn't reply, she looked at him. "None of what?" he asked.

She looked away as the elevator door opened. She stepped on but Gnar didn't move. "Are you coming?" she asked. He stepped on beside her.

They rode to the lobby in silence, and even when they reached the street, they still didn't speak. Maxie walked fast, her arms crossed over her chest, her head down. For so long, Maxie had fought—herself, Isaac, Alex, even Bea at times—to keep her and Van together, and now she couldn't even look at her friend the same. What had it all been for? What was to come of their friendship now? Maxie meant what she'd said. If Van didn't tell Isaac the truth, she would. She would never be able to live with herself knowing the truth if he went through with a wedding that he never even wanted, a wedding that he _still_ didn't want.

"You can live with me," Gnar said, suddenly. Maxie stopped walking and turned to him. "Temporarily," he went on. "Or not temporarily."

Angst clutched at her throat. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing emerged. She could only stare at him, stare into his handsome face, into his earnest, longing gaze. Live with _Gnar_?

For but a moment, she imagined it. She imagined a life without a past, a life without Isaac. Waking up, entwined in Gnar's limbs.

The way Isaac once held her.

Greeting him with dinner when he returned home from the gym.

Like she'd greeted Isaac.

Falling asleep in the curve of his arm at night.

She'd rested her head against Isaac's bare chest.

Waking up in the morning, still wrapped around him.

Isaac had never let her go, never taken his hands off of her.

But there would never be no past, she knew. There could never be no Isaac.

Bowing her head, she said, "I can't. I'm just going to go to my father's."

"You don't even know him!" Gnar lashed out. "You would rather go stay with some guy you don't even know, some _family_ you don't even know—"

"They're _my_ family!"

"Van is your family!" he shot back.

"Of course," Maxie said, shaking her head. She turned to walk away but Gnar seized her by the arm. "You're not about to run away from me," he said. "You're not going to blow me off because I don't agree with you—"

"Stop saying that!"

"Why do you keep pushing me away?" he insisted. Maxie groaned and tried to turn around but Gnar remained in her path. "What do I have to do? I can't make myself _him_ , Maxie—"

"What are you talking about?"

"—I'll never be _him_. But I love you," he said.

She stumbled back, shaking her head. "No, Daniel."

" _Yes_ , I love you. And I'll take care of you. I'll make you happy. And I don't care about anything that happened before me."

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"I _saw_ you, Maxie. On that corner in Queens, I saw you two kiss."

For a moment she was taken aback, her words struck from her mouth. Then she said, "It only happened once. It was a mistake."

"And your little matching tattoos," he said. "Does he even _realize_ that he has a tattoo for you?"

"It's for his mother," she said.

"And the lock. I saw the lock," he said. "I _know_ how much that lock means to him. And I can only imagine how much _you_ meant to him if he gave it to you. But I don't _care_ , Maxie. I've wanted you from the first time you walked into the gym wearing those stupid yellow rain boots. I've wanted you since the first time you hid behind him so you wouldn't have to look at me even though you _wanted_ to. Please," he said, beseechingly.

She pressed her lips together, lowered her eyes. "Van was lying, Daniel. They weren't engaged before."

"Jesus, Maxie," he said, raising his hands to his face in frustration.

"That means it was _real_. What we had was _real_ ," she said. "And I know it was wrong, but—"

"But it's over now," he interjected. "He's engaged to Van now. You're the maid of honor at his wedding. Whatever happened before doesn't _matter_."

"It matters to me!" she shrieked.

Gnar watched her for a moment longer, his features contorted in frustration. In agony.

"He's your best friend," she murmured.

Gnar nodded. "And Van was yours. So I guess you can relate."

* * *

When Maxie was a kid, she, her mother, and father would eat dinner in front of the television, watching evening game shows. The trivia sitcoms had been Victor's favorites, while Maxie and Noelle had preferred the games based more on luck than knowledge. They'd all be content enough with any game, though. It had been the only time they all ever spent together. Sitting in front of the television, eating dinner, challenging one another like the game show hosts challenged the contestants.

Victor no longer owned a television. He and Nicole agreed Addison would be better off without it. They had a strict schedule for her, lots of activities in the daytime, reading and writing in the evening, dinner and bath time just before bed. Victor and Nicole both tucked her in at night, and Maxie would listen from the living room as they sang to her and told her a new bedtime story every night.

It had been Nicole's idea for Maxie to stay there after she'd left home three weeks prior, though after just five nights it became abundantly clear to Maxie that she had no place in that family. They already had routines, traditions, customs that no matter how welcoming they were, didn't leave much room for another daughter. Especially not an adult one, damaged and attention deprived.

She tried to bond with her little sister, but it proved to be more difficult than she'd expected. "What's this?" Nicole had asked, the first night she walked into Addison's room to find Maxie painting her tiny nails pink. Addison raised her fingers excitedly to her mother.

"Aren't they pretty?" she squealed.

Nicole's smile never faded, but it certainly didn't reach her eyes. "Addy, honey, you know what Mommy and Daddy say about you painting your nails." Deflated, Addison dropped her hand.

"Oh," Maxie said.

"Don't worry about it, Maxie, you couldn't have known. We just think she's too young," Nicole said, scooping the child up as if another second in Maxie's proximity would further corrupt her. "I'll just go ahead and take it off."

That same evening, as Maxie lay chatting with Addison before bedtime: _We're teaching Addison to sleep on her own, and it's past her bedtime. Maybe you two can catch up in the morning?_ And then in the morning, when she joined Maxie in the guest room: _We don't want Addy to ever get used to spending all morning in bed. You know what they say, early bird gets the worm._ When Maxie showed Addison a game on her phone: _Addy knows she isn't allowed video games._ When Maxie read to Addison from her favorite book of fairytales, the very book Victor had given to her when she was Addison's exact age: _Which version of the fairy tales are those? Oh no, we don't read her those versions. Way too violent._

The only time she felt at ease in their home was when she was alone in her room, or after they all retired to bed, leaving her to herself.

Except when she was by herself, she thought of Isaac.

He called her every day, and she would stare at the screen of her phone as it blinked, illuminated by his photo. She would hold it in her hand, her finger hovering over the answer button, but she never pressed it. There were already too many lies, there was already so much deception. She couldn't bring herself to speak another untruth, even if it was only to tell him she was fine.

She was anything but fine.

But on her sixth evening at Victor's, just as everyone sat down for dinner, there was a knock at the door. "Maxie," Nicole called, pulling it open. "It's for you."

There Isaac stood, tall and clean shaven, warmth in his eyes and a grin on his mouth. Maxie got to her feet before her brain could even process the action. She felt instantly lighter upon setting eyes on him. For a moment, she forgot she'd been avoiding him, forgot there were too many things she couldn't say, and even more things she wanted to. For a moment, there was nothing but Isaac standing there, with warmth in his eyes and a grin on his mouth.

"Isaac," Victor said, "what brings you here? Come, have a seat. We were just about to eat."

"Actually," Isaac replied, "I was hoping to steal Maxie away for a little while. If that's alright." His eyes never left her.

"Maxie?" Victor said, turning to his daughter. "Is that alright?"

"I just need to get my shoes," she said, going around the table.

"Are you coming back?" Addison asked.

"Of course," Maxie said. "I'll be home in time to tuck you in."

When she and Isaac got outside, Isaac said, "Home, huh?"

She shrugged as they began to walk slowly along the sidewalk. "I just meant I'd be back."

"And what about your _real_ home? Are you ever coming back there?"

Again, she shrugged. "I think Van and I just need a little bit of time apart right now."

"Right," he said. "The big fight that no one wants to talk about. You guys have fought a hundred times before. You'll get over it, like always."

"You know," she said, "eventually you and Van both will need to get used to living without me. I won't be there forever. In fact," she said, lowering her eyes, "I may be leaving really soon."

He stopped walking. After a few more steps, she stopped, too, and turned to him. "Leaving to where?" he asked. "With Gnar?"

"No. Gnar and I..." She broke off. "No, not with Gnar."

"Where then?"

With a wistful smile, she said, "France."

"France?"

"There's a culinary school there. And I speak the language well enough, thanks to you. And."

" _And_...?"

And it's far away from here. Far away from Van. Far away from you.

"And I think it will be good for me, to get away for a while. Be on my own. I've never been on my own—"

"Because you don't need to be," he said, coming closer to her. "Is this because of some stupid fight with Van? Tell me what this is about, we'll solve it."

She shook her head. "It's not about a fight with Van. I just...I need a fresh start. I've lost myself, Isaac. In loneliness, in bitterness, in dance, in Van." _In you_. Though she didn't bother saying that being lost in him was the best kind of lost. She pushed the thought from her mind. "I'm going to go away, and I'm going to live a life that isn't just a consequence of my mother's death, or my father abandoning me, or Van's family taking me in. I'm going to live a life of my _own_."

"It sounds to me like you're running."

"Running?"

"Maximilienne," he said. "I need to ask you something. And I want you to be honest with me." She sucked in a deep breath and held it. "Will you be honest?"

She nodded, wondering if that was the right answer. _Could_ she be honest with him? "Am I _him_?" he asked. "Am I the mystery guy?"

"Mystery guy?"

" _Your_ mystery guy. The one who..." He paused. Maxie could feel her lower lip drift downward. "Did _I_ break your heart, Maximilienne?"

Yes, _YES_ , a thousand times _yes_! The word exploded over and over in her brain.

"No," she said, though it came out as a rasped whisper. "You and I were—"

"Nothing," he said with a sigh. "Just a fling. Right."

Then he pulled a small, velvet box from his pocket and held it between them. She didn't even need to open it. "A ring," she said.

"For Van," he replied.

Nodding once, she said, "Of course."

"Well, aren't you going to open it?"

She reached for it and paused just before her fingers met the smooth surface. As if touching it would burn her.

Finally, she swept it up and slowly opened the top. Wedged in the tiny pillow, glittering even in the fading light of evening, was a diamond engagement ring. Maxie beheld it, the smaller stones surrounding the bigger one, all perfectly clear and sparkling endlessly.

It wasn't until Isaac spoke again that Maxie realized she'd been holding her breath.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

"Will she like it?"

"She'll love it."

"I think so, too. Big and sort of obnoxious. I'm pretty sure it's her ideal engagement ring."

Maxie nodded, remembering the ring Isaac had given _her_. Smaller, simpler, _perfect_.

Closing the box, she handed it back to him. "It's beautiful," she repeated, forcing a smile. "When are you going to give it to her?"

"Tomorrow, I think," he said. "Over dinner. She's wanted to go to some restaurant in midtown for a while now. I'm going to take her there, maybe do something cheesy like have the server bring it to her in a glass of champagne." He chuckled, shaking his head. "She'll love telling that story."

Maxie stared at him, all of her emotions lodged in her throat. Maybe Van had been right. Maybe he _did_ want to be with her.

He took the ring out of the box and turned it over between his fingers. "It's real, isn't it?"

"The ring?"

"The wedding," he said. "I'm getting _married._ " He let out a baffled chuckle. "Jesus."

"You want it, don't you?"

For a moment, he said nothing. "I _did_. Once. Right?"

"That isn't an answer."

"I care about her. I _owe_ her."

"Isaac—"

"Yes," he said with a heavy breath. "The answer is yes."

He got her a ring, he was planning a proposal—a _real_ proposal—of _course_ the answer was yes.

"Well, then, I guess congratulations are in order because yes, it is real, Isaac. You're getting married."

She cleared her throat, took a step back. "Funny," he said, "how I'm not sure what gives me more anxiety: my upcoming nuptials or losing you as a result of them."

"You're not losing me," she said, "because I'm not yours to lose."

"You're my family," he said. "You're my friend."

Maxie tried not to cringe at the last word. "And I'll always be those things."

"Come home, Maximilienne."

But she shook her head. "I can't tonight. I have to tuck in Addison."

* * *

"I'm not going to lie to you," Bea said. "This shit is creepy."

"It's tradition," Maxie replied. "You should be honored to be here."

Frowning, Bea peered around at her surroundings. The cemetery where Noelle was laid to rest was a beautiful one. Large and spacious, maintained and secure. There were even benches.

But it was a cemetery, nonetheless.

Maxie pulled two cupcakes from the small container she'd packed for their picnic and set them down before Bea. "I brought chocolate and vanilla," Maxie said. She pulled a bottle of wine from her bag next, and then two freshly rolled joints.

Bea looked down at the long, white sticks and frowned. "I don't know. Isn't this like, unethical or something?"

"It's a graveyard, Bea, not a church." She raised the lighter to her friend. "Would you like to do the honors?"

"No, thanks," Bea said, still glancing around uneasily.

Maxie shrugged and raised the joint to her lips as she lit the end. Her eyes drifted shut as she took a long, deep inhale before releasing the thick cloud of grey smoke from her lungs. Turning to the tombstone—a marble plaque with the words _Noelle Shannen, Beloved Mother, Beloved Wife_ inscribed across the surface—Maxie said, "Happy birthday, Mom."

"This is creepy," Bea repeated.

"I do it every year," Maxie replied, passing her friend the joint. "Cupcakes, wine, and a smoke. If she was alive, this is exactly how we would be spending her birthday. This is what she would want."

She lay back on the blanket and sighed. It was a beautiful day, one perfect for celebrating. The sky was at it's bluest, decorated by thin puffs of white clouds. The sun shone and a light breeze swept through the cemetery every few minutes. "She was happiest when it rained," Maxie said. "It rained on her last birthday we spent together."

' _C'mon, Maximilienne, let's go play in it,' Noelle says, gazing wide-eyed out of the window at the downpour. She's practically bouncing with excitement, like a small child standing at the door of a candy store._

' _But we'll get wet,' says Maxie._

_Throwing her head back with a giddy laugh, Noelle says, 'Of_ course _we will! That's the point!'_

"We spent an hour out there," Maxie recalled. "Jumping in puddles. Dancing. Doing cartwheels. It was coming down so hard, I couldn't even see."

' _If rain was an emotion, it would be happiness,' Noelle says later on. They're in the house now, dry and warm, and the rain long ago stopped. Still, she sits at the window staring out into the damp yard._

' _Happiness?' Maxie echoes, perplexed._

Noelle nods. 'Uh huh. It comes and drenches everything,' she explains. 'And then it dries up, and you wouldn't even know it was ever there.'

' _Except for when flowers come,' Maxie points out. 'When flowers come, you know the rain was there.'_

For a moment, she is silent. Then she stands and makes her way toward her bedroom where Maxie knows she'll lock herself for the remainder of the evening. 'Flowers die, Maximilienne,' she says without turning. 'Just enjoy the rain while it lasts.'

"I think you can enjoy both," Bea said. "The rain and the flowers."

Maxie chuckled. "My mother and her metaphors." With a scoff, she said, "I don't even know what's what."

"Isaac is the rain," Bea said. "Gnar is the flowers."

"Isaac isn't rain," Maxie replied. "Isaac is a hurricane. As a matter of fact, he's like the red sky at morning. Like the minutes right before the hurricane. Those perfectly still, perfectly peaceful minutes. The calm before the storm. You know disaster's coming but when you're in those few minutes, it seems worth it."

" _Almost_ ," Bea said.

"I made my prom date cry, you know," Maxie said suddenly, sitting up. "Everyone always talks about it, makes fun of me because it, but you know what no one really knows?"

"What?" Bea asked.

"It was Van's fault."

Bea frowned. "Van's?"

Maxie nodded. "I didn't want to go to prom at all. After I lost my mother, I always tried to downplay major events. You know, holidays and milestones like prom and graduation. They weren't important to me anymore, since she wasn't there to share them with. But then I heard through the grapevine that this guy, Adam Asteel, wanted to ask me. Well, I had a _huge_ crush on Adam Asteel. The only one who knew about it was Van. Anyway, when I heard Adam Asteel wanted to ask me to prom, I started getting excited about it.

"I picked out my dress and shoes. I started thinking about hairstyles. Van and I were talking about getting a limo. The only thing left was for Adam to finally ask me. And then, one day, Van comes home from school and announces Adam asked _her_." Bea's eyes widened. Her chest rose in a silent gasp. "She hadn't given him an answer yet. She wanted to ask me first. She said she wouldn't go with him if I _really_ didn't want her to. But what was I supposed to do, you know? Was I supposed to tell her she couldn't?"

"Yes!" Bea cried. "That's exactly what you were supposed to tell her!"

Maxie shook her head. "He didn't want to go with me, obviously, so what was the point of leaving us _all_ dateless? Anyway, she ended up agreeing to go with him, and I'd decided that I just wasn't going to go at all. But Van _begged_ me to. She told me Adam's friend, this guy named Jeremy, really wanted to ask me. I had a class with Jeremy. He was a nice guy. Kind of handsome. He'd always flirted with me, I kind of knew he liked me. So I agreed."

Bea glared at her. "You're too nice, Maxie. That's your damn problem."

"Anyway," she went on. "I agree to go with Jeremy. I bought my shoes, my dress. We got the limo. The whole time leading up to it, Jeremy and I talked more and more. Got a little bit closer. I still didn't like him the way I liked Adam, but I wasn't so bummed about being his date anymore, either. And then the night came, and I was actually pretty excited."

"But?"

Maxie chuckled. "But things never happen the way you want them to, do they?"

"Not me, Max. Just you."

She chuckled again. "The limo barely made it off our street before they all started drinking. We went to dinner, before the dance, and by the time we left the restaurant, they were all _wasted._ I spent the entire night looking after Van, making sure she didn't make a fool of herself in front of the entire senior class, or get the attention of one of the teachers chaperoning. It was really just way more stressful than fun for me. When we finally left, I was relieved."

" _But?_ "

"But, it still wasn't over. We got a hotel room, the four of us and two more of our friends. Van got so drunk, I ended up just leaving her on the bathroom floor. Adam passed out on the couch. The other couple disappeared for a while, probably having sex somewhere, and all Jeremy wanted was to get in my pants. He kept trying to hug me and kiss me. He kept telling me how much he liked me, how much he'd always liked me, how he was so happy I agreed to go to prom with him. He was so drunk he told me he thought he was in love with me." Bea rolled her eyes. "Eventually, I just left the room. I walked out, barefoot, in my prom gown, and just wandered around."

Bea's chin dropped. "You're joking."

"I think I was gone for about an hour. When I finally went back, our other friends had gotten back. They were both in bed. Adam was still on the couch. And Jeremy and Van? I found them making out in the bathroom."

Bea inhaled sharply, loudly. "Get the _fuck_ out!" she cried. "That _bitch!_ "

"I walked right in on them. Van laughed. I think she was too drunk to really understand. But Jeremy understood. I was so _upset_. Not because I really liked him, but because...because he was _my_ date. And he'd just been telling me how much he liked _me_. And I'd wanted to go with Adam. But _Van_ went with Adam. Why didn't she just go with Jeremy if she was going to end the night making out with him? Anyway, I stormed out and Jeremy followed me. He kept trying to apologize, kept trying to talk to me, kept _grabbing_ me. And then I finally hit him."

Bea's eyes were wide, she was leaning toward Maxie as she listened intently. "You _hit_ him?"

"I was just frustrated! With him and with Van and with the entire fucked up night. I hit him right in the face, and then I yelled at him. I told him he was disgusting and that I didn't like him and that I never liked him. I told him that if there had even been an inkling of a chance that I'd ever take him seriously, it was gone. And I must have been really loud, because when I finally stopped screaming, everyone was standing there. Van, our two friends, even Adam woke up. On top of being drunk, and hurt, he was probably _humiliated_." Maxie shut her eyes, shook her head. "His face just turned bright red and he ran into the bathroom."

Bea fell back against the brick wall behind them and broke into laughter. "Good for him!" she cried. "Did Van cry, too? I hope Van cried, too."

"Well, actually," Maxie said, "Adam found out what happened in school on Monday. He told Van she was a slut, so yes, she ended up crying, too. Crying to me, of course."

"And what did you do?"

Looking away, Maxie replied, "I held her. And I rubbed her hair, and handed her tissues, and let her fall asleep on my pillow." She didn't even glance up to see Bea's face, but she knew it was filled with pity.

"That's such a shame, Max."

"Because I'm too nice?"

"No. Because right now, now that _you_ need to cry... Why isn't Van holding _you_? And rubbing _your_ head, and handing _you_ tissues?"

"Do you really need to ask?" Maxie shrugged. "I don't think she'll ever look at me the same. And the crazy thing is, she doesn't even _know_ the worst part. So what has it all been for? All of this hiding and lying, all of these secrets. Isaac and I still aren't together. She and Isaac may break up if he finds out the truth. And she _still_ hates me."

"Are you really going to tell him?" Bea asked.

With a sigh, Maxie said, "He's in love with her Bea. What does it matter whether he really wanted to be with her before if he really wants to be with her now?" She dropped her eyes, slowly shook her head. "He bought her a ring. He's going to give her the proposal she wants. He seemed _excited_ about it." She chuckled. "Excited as Isaac could be about a public proposal. Anyway, he's trying. He cares. And that changes everything."

Draping her arm around Maxie, Bea said, "Well, no matter what happens, Van doesn't hate you. She's as devoted to you as you are to her. She's selfish and self-centered, but she loves you. You and Isaac can break up. Van and Isaac can break up. But you and Van?" She shook her head. "You and Van will never break up, Max."

Maxie exhaled heavily. Her shoulders rose and fell. "That's the thing. I think we already did."

#

"Is dinner almost ready? How long's it supposed to take two women to make one meal?"

Milla rolled her eyes. "How long's it take one grumpy old man to hush up and wait 'til we _say_ it's ready?" she shot back at Charlie.

He huffed but didn't reply. "He sure knows when to be quiet with you, Milla."

"Of course he does, honey. Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks?" She giggled.

"Do you think it's too soon for him to be in love with you?"

She turned to Maxie, puzzled. "Well, love doesn't really have a timeframe."

Maxie nodded. "But if he _did_ love you, and you knew you didn't love him back, but maybe you could _possibly_ love him one day. I mean, you probably shouldn't, but who knows? Maybe one day..."

Milla frowned. "What's your question, honey?"

Maxie sighed and shook her head. "I don't have one, I guess."

"Is there something you want to talk about?"

"No. I should get going, though." She wiped her hands on a rag and began to gather her belongings.

"Don't say it if you don't mean it, Max," Milla said.

"I was speaking hypothetically, Milla."

"Well, then, hypothetically. Don't say it if you don't mean it. And don't trick yourself into thinking you mean it. You'll resent him for it."

After saying goodbye, Maxie left. When she stepped out onto the sidewalk, the afternoon was grey and thick. Dark clouds shadowed the street and she could already feel the threat of downpour coming in sporadic drops. For but a moment, she considered going back up to Charlie's to wait out the rain, but then she thought of her mother. _Enjoy the rain when it comes,_ Noelle said. And so Maxie began to walk.

She barely made it two blocks before the rain started. Within minutes she was soaked through and through, but the day was warm, and she had nowhere to be, so she didn't even quicken her step.

She bypassed several bus stops, subway entrances, awnings and open doors offering refuge to passersby. It wasn't until a familiar car slowed beside her that she stopped. The window came down and Alex appeared, leaning toward her. "Max!" he cried. "What are you doing? Get in here!"

"I'm walking home," she replied, bending to see him.

"Get in!" he repeated, "I'll drive you!"

She contemplated his offer for a moment, peering around at the empty sidewalk. The rain wasn't slowing. In fact, it was getting harder. The wind was starting to blow. It was becoming more and more difficult to see even a few feet in front of her through the curtain of downpour.

Conceding, she climbed into the car. "Jesus," he said, rolling up the window as he reached in the back for a jacket. "Here," he said, handing it to her. "Are you cold?"

"It's actually pretty warm out," she said.

Still, he turned on the heat. "You were going to walk home from here? In _this_?" he insisted, motioning toward the outside.

She shrugged. "It's just rain."

"Buckets of fucking rain," he said. "You'll drown out there." He pulled away from the curb and slowly made his way to her apartment. "Where are you coming from?" he asked.

"Charlie's," she replied.

"How are things with you and Van? Is she still mad at you?"

She raised an eyebrow. "How do you know she's mad at me?"

His shoulder rose and fell. "She told me. We talk now, you know. We're friends."

"Oh. Yeah."

She raised her gaze to the street. Alex and Van. _Friends._

"That doesn't bother you, does it?" he asked.

"No. I'm glad you guys are finally getting along."

"We are. We're _really_ getting along."

She frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The side of his mouth turned up into a tiny, smug grin. "You had to have seen it coming. Van, a fashion model. Me, a fashion photographer. I think it was fate."

Maxie sat up. "Alright, this is far enough."

"What do you mean?" he said.

"You can pull over, I'll walk the rest of the way."

"You can't _walk_ , Max, it's _pouring_ outside."

"Just _pull over_ ," she insisted firmly.

Sucking his teethed, he obliged, pulling over practically in the middle of the street. "Get out, then," he said, motioning for the door. "Walk."

Pushing the door open, Maxie turned back to him. "You're pathetic, Alex. Now you have to resort to telling lies?"

His jaw squared, he said, "What do you care anyway, Max? We both know you haven't up until this point, I can't see why you would start now."

"Alex," she said. "I _never_ meant to hurt you. I'm sorry I wasn't more sensitive to your feelings...I was selfish, only thinking of myself. I'm sorry."

"Do you even think of me? Of _us_? Ever?"

She dropped her eyes guilty. She wanted to disappear. She wanted the rain to wash her away. "No," she murmured at last. "I don't. I'm sorry."

"You just take what you need from people, and then you discard them," he spat. "You did it with me. You did it with this new guy. You're even doing it with Van." Maxie's mouth fell agape. Is _this_ what he and Van talked about during their little outings? "All your bridges are nearly burned, Maxie, and your whole life is _consumed_ by someone who doesn't even _know_ you. It's pitiful."

Without a reply, she climbed out of his car and slammed the door behind her. He sped off instantly, nearly knocking her down. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she slowly made her way across the street.

With a sigh, she continued the rest of the way to the apartment. Again, she thought of her mother. Noelle had been wrong. Rain was _nothing_ like happiness. But maybe Alex had been onto something when he'd said she'd drown in it.

When she stepped into the apartment, Van was sitting on the floor, leaning over the seating plan that Maxie had started but never finished. Upon setting eyes on her friend, relief passed over Van's features. She quickly masked it with her customary scowl, though. For a moment, Maxie watched as she moved the push-pins around, often changing her mind, switching them, putting them back where she'd already had them placed before.

"I mean, do we really need seat assignments?" she said at last, pushing the board away. "This is so stupid. There won't even be that many people there. Let them sit where they want."

Maxie went over to the board and kneeled down in front of it. "I'll finish the seating chart," she said.

Van glared at her. "You know, I can never tell what I'm going to get with you. One minute you're helping me plan my wedding, the next you're plotting to ruin it."

"I never plotted to ruin anything," Maxie said. "I just..." She stopped, wondering if the explanation was worth the energy it would take to give it. Van would _never_ understand. "It doesn't even matter," she said. "I'm not going to tell him, Van."

Van's face illuminated. "You're not?"

Shaking her head, Maxie said, "No. You're right. He _does_ want to be with you now. I guess that's what matters, right?"

A wide smile unfolded on Van's lips and she threw her hand out for Maxie to look at. On her finger sat the sparkling, diamond ring. "He proposed!" she said. "Officially. And _really_ this time. He took me to this restaurant I've been talking about for ages, and he had the waitress bring me a glass of champagne. When I realized the ring was at the bottom, he got down on one knee, Maxie! He got down on _one knee_." She squealed giddily. "The entire restaurant was watching. It was the most amazing moment of my life. I don't think I've ever been so happy."

Maxie forced a smile. "I guess I should finish up this seating chart then, huh?"

Fingering her ring, her grin faded. "I feel more ready than ever now. Every time I look at the ring, I feel like we're _already_ married. Like I'm _already_ Mrs. Isaac Cole."

As if on cue, the front door opened and Isaac stepped in. "And here's my mister!" Van said, getting to her feet. She threw herself in his embrace, planting kisses on his neck and under his chin.

Maxie kept her eyes on the floor chart. "I guess you two made up," he said.

"Yep. I was just telling her about the other night." She held out her hand again. "I was telling her how we had everyone in the room's attention."

Finally, Maxie looked at Isaac, only this time it was his eyes that were lowered. "Yeah. Well. I'm glad you liked it." Dropping a peck on her cheek, he retreated to the bedroom.

Setting back down beside Maxie, Van said, "Hey, listen. About all those things I said."

"Don't," Maxie replied. She didn't want to hear her friend say she hadn't meant those things. Maxie and Van both knew that Van had meant every word.

With a sigh, Van said, "Remember how it was before Isaac? Before Gnar and Alex and everyone else?"

"Mm hmm."

Van giggled. "We were like little kids. Sliding around the apartment in our socks. Staying up late watching scary movies, and then sleeping together in the living room with all of the lights on because we were scared."

Maxie laughed. "Remember the black out?"

"Ugh, how can I forget? I _freaked out_! Remember that huge blizzard a few years ago? The one I made you walk in with me all the way to the store for tampons?"

"I was sick for two weeks."

"But I took care of you."

"Yeah. You did. Hey, remember when we went to visit Grammy in Florida, and we had the orange fight in the backyard?"

Van laughed loudly. " _Yes_! And you threw that orange at my face and hit me _right_ in the mouth!"

"So you threw one back at _my_ face, and busted my nose!"

They both threw back their heads in laughter. "Your head jerked back, then your nose just started _gushing_ blood. So we took you in the house, and as soon as Grammy touched it—"

"I fainted!"

For a while, there were no sounds in the room but their glee. And then soon, it fell silent of even that, as they both sat and silently reflected. "Maxie?" said Van after a while.

"Yes?"

"Maybe we can get some of those times back. You can come back. Things can be like they were again." She lowered her eyes. "I know I can be a bitch. I know I can say some really mean things, but sometimes it's just the only way I know how to defend myself. I never mean any of it, though. You're my best friend. You're my sister."

Maxie took Van's hand and squeezed it. "And you're mine."

"Even when I hate you, I love you," she said with a chuckle. "I don't know what to do with myself when you aren't around. I've resorted to turning to _Alex_ for companionship." She turned up her nose and rolled her eyes. "If that doesn't scream desperation, I don't know what does."

"Do you see him often?" Maxie asked, as casually as she could manage.

Van shook her head. "No. Just a few times now. We've had lunch. Once we went out for a drink, that day you saw us. Alex isn't my favorite person in the world, but I guess even _he's_ better than no one. Believe it or not, I've actually learned to kind of...well... _appreciate_ his friendship." Maxie nodded. "That isn't weird, is it? For you, I mean."

"For me?"

"Well, with him being your ex and all. I wasn't sure how it would sit with you."

Maxie shrugged. "It's fine. I mean, you guys are just friends. Right?"

"Ugh!" Van cried. "Christ, Maxie, it's bad enough I'm calling that man my friend, don't insult me by even _thinking_ we could be anything more than that. We couldn't be, even if I _wasn't_ completely disgusted by the idea. Not with him still being so in love with you and all. You're all he talks about. _Still_." She dropped her eyes, shook her head. "How do you do it? Give so _little_ , and get back so much in return?"

Maxie thought of Alex, and even considered Gnar. She supposed the only reason both of them remained so thoroughly consumed by her was precisely because she gave so little.

And Isaac? She'd given Isaac _all_ of her. Every single last drop of herself. "I don't know, Van."

"Well, what do you think? Are you home now? For good?"

Maxie nodded. "For now, Van. Just for now."

* * *

The next day, she ventured out into the afternoon toward the Brass Knuckles Boxing Gym. She paused at the entrance and took a deep breath, gathering her courage before opening the door and stepping inside. She hadn't seen the inside of that gym since before Isaac got shot. Before that moment, she'd only ever gone there for him. Something about calling on Gnar there seemed unethical. And yet, there she was.

As soon as she turned the corner into the main room, she spotted Isaac through the window of his office. His eyes sparked to life upon finding her, and he started to rise from his seat only to watch her turn away and continue toward the back to Gnar.

Gnar inhaled sharply when he turned around to see her standing there. His eyes moved down the length of her and up again, and then he glanced at the back wall, toward Isaac's large office window. " _I_ get the visits now," he said at last, a small, smug grin on his lips.

She nodded. "Can we talk?"

His exhaled heavily, his eyes dancing over her face as he contemplated. Finally, he conceded. "Alright."

They made their way back through the gym, Gnar's hand resting on the small of Maxie's back as they did so. She caught Isaac's gaze again on the way out. His eyes had never left her.

"So what's up?" Gnar asked, leaning against the brick wall of the building. His voice was even, emotionless, and yet, Maxie could hear everything he was feeling in his words.

"I'm sorry," she said.

He scoffed. "Yeah? Me, too."

"You don't have to forgive me. I'll understand if you never want to see me again after this. But I just want you to know..." Her voice trailed off. She shook her head, as if to clear away all of her excess thoughts, all of her screaming emotions, demanding to be felt. "I just..." Lowering her voice, she said, "I loved him, Daniel. I didn't think I could ever care about anyone else the way I cared about him. And then you came along. _You_ , of all people."

She finally found the courage to meet his eyes. Though they'd softened, his expression remained hard. Guarded. "I wasn't lying that night," she said, "when you asked me if I was scared. I'm terrified. I'm sick of loving someone I'm not supposed to love. I'm sick of hurting."

She paused again, waited. Waiting for him to react. To forgive her. To dismiss her. _Anything_. After another moment of silence, she nodded. "I get it. Like I said, I understand."

Taking a step back, she bowed her head and turned away from him, but he called out to her. "Wait," he said, his tone straining against his own pride. He let out a frustrated sigh. "You're making me dizzy with all your ups and downs," he said. "I've never been subtle about the way I feel about you. I told you I fucking love you, and I didn't even complain when you just looked at me like a deer in the headlights in return. But I feel like you're playing me. You're not going to string me along, Maxie. As much as I care about you, I'm not going to be another _Alex_. You either want this— _us_ —or you don't."

"I do want it," she said.

"Alright then. Leave with me."

" _Leave_."

He nodded. "You want to get away, and I do, too. So let's get away _together._ Leave with me," he repeated. "Leave Isaac."

Lowering her eyes, she asked, "Is that all it's about? Getting me away from him?"

"Not all of it, no. But some of it. I'm done going back and forth with you. And we both know that as long as you're near him, that's all it'll ever be."

"You don't trust me?"

"No. When it comes to him, I don't. And if Van is smart, she wouldn't trust him when it comes to you, either. It's him or me," he said. "Choose."

Maxie lowered her eyes, pressed her lips together. _Choose_. How could she choose anyone over Isaac? And yet, how could she sacrifice anything else for him, either? She'd lost him. She was losing Van.

She wouldn't lose Gnar.

"You," she said, raising her eyes to his. She nodded. "I choose you."

"Bust," said Gnar. He was grinning ear to ear, his eyes ablaze as they moved down Maxie's exposed frame. She sat on the floor in front him, completely naked except for her panties. Her arm was fastened over her bare breasts, she only had one article of clothing left before she was completely nude.

The article of clothing she'd just lost.

They were playing Strip Black Jack, and Maxie was convinced that Gnar had fixed the cards. While she sat on the bed having lost nearly every article of her clothing, he still wore his underwear, sweat pants, and both of his socks. "You're cheating!" she cried.

He threw his head back in mirth. "How would I _cheat_?" he demanded.

"Haven't you ever been to a casino? The house _always_ wins." He held up the cards. "I'm the dealer. I'm the house. _I_ win."

"I want to be the dealer, then," she said, extending her hand.

"Don't be a sore loser, Max. Panties off."

"No," she snapped. "You cheated."

"I didn't cheat!"

"Then give me the cards," she insisted.

With a sigh, he said, "Fine. One more round. If I win, you're not allowed to wear any clothes for the rest of the night." Her eyes widened. "Since you accused me of cheating, I say that's a fair deal."

Rolling her eyes, she said, "Fine." Handling the cards with the one hand that wasn't shielding her nudity, she dealt her own cards first. She smiled at the Queen of Hearts.

She dealt Gnar's. A king. He grinned.

"Hit me."

She dealt another. Three.

"Hit me."

A five.

Gnar paused, contemplated. And then he said, "Hit me."

Grinning in triumph, Maxie excitedly flipped over the next card only to find the dreaded three of hearts. Gnar burst into laughter, falling back on the mattress. Maxie glared at him. "You're cheating!"

"Panties off, Max."

"I can still win!" she insisted, flipping over her second card. Another queen. _Shit_.

A six of clubs came next.

"You lost!" Gnar said.

"No!" she shrieked. "It's not fair, you cheated."

"I won fair and square! _Your_ way! C'mon, take them off."

"No," she repeated.

He narrowed his eyes. "You take them off or _I'll_ take them off."

Seeing only one other viable option, Maxie tried to jump up and run, but Gnar saw it coming. He had her by the ankle before she made it off of the bed and dragged her to him. She laughed and shrieked and tried to fight him off, but she was no match for his strength.

Not his strength, nor his lips.

Nor his tongue.

Nor his fingers.

All on her at once, controlling her body like a puppeteer would a puppet. She didn't know when her laughter turned to moans, or when she stopped fighting and started to draw him closer to her, against her. His hands seemed to have minds of their own, as cunning and unpredictable as their owner. Maxie found herself shuddering against her will, cries escaping her throat without her knowledge. It wasn't until Gnar pulled back that she open her eyes and gazed around the spinning room.

"Maxie," he breathed, his bare chest heaving against hers. "I can't wait anymore."

"Me neither," she said, meaning every syllable. She was _ready_. More than ready. She was ready to love someone else. Give her all to someone and receive his in return. She was ready to lay with someone and feel safe again, _loved_ again.

Gnar lowered his lips to hers, wrapped his arms around her and crushed her so tightly against his chest she groaned. And then he pulled away, stood up, clutched the sides of her panties in his fists and slid them down her legs. "I believe these belong to me," he said.

Returning his grin, she shrugged. "Fair's fair."

Taking off his own pants, he slowly lowered himself back on top of her. Her breathing was shallow, her heart raced, her emotions were at an immeasurable high. "Maxie," he whispered against her ear. "I love you so much."

And then there was a loud knock on the door.

Gnar dropped his head in the curve of Maxie's neck and groaned loudly. "You have _got_ to be kidding me," he said.

"Are you expecting someone?"

He stood and motioned toward his erection. "Do I look like I'm expecting someone?" he demanded, adjusting himself as he made his way to the front door. "It's probably one of the fucking neighbors to complain about a clogged toilet or leaky faucet."

But when he pulled the front door open, it wasn't a neighbor at all, but Eric. He gave Gnar a onceover and grinned. "Am I interrupting something?" he asked, though he didn't wait for an answer before he stepped inside.

Maxie watched him from the door of Gnar's bedroom. Now wearing Gnar's shirt, she stood with her arms wrapped around herself. When he spotted her, his grin widened. Turning back to Gnar, he said, "No kidding."

"What are you doing here?" Gnar asked him.

He shrugged. "I'm back in town for the weekend. Thought we could get into a little trouble," he said. Turning back to Maxie, he continued, "But I guess you're way ahead of me."

"Yeah," Gnar said, still holding the door ajar. "I am, so..."

"Alright. I can see when I'm not welcome somewhere. It was good seeing you, Maxie." He tilted his head slightly to the side. "Hey, how's Isaac? I haven't seen him since—"

"Eric," Gnar snapped. "Do you mind? We're a little busy here."

Eric laughed. "Oh, right. Of course. Sure, I'll go." He turned to leave before looking at Gnar again. "On second thought, I think I need something."

Gnar rolled his eyes. "Need what?"

"I've been thinking about going away for a while—"

"You should be gone already," Gnar murmured through clenched teeth. Maxie barely made out his words. "Get the fuck out of here, Eric."

"I can't," Eric said with a shrug. "I don't have the _means_ at the moment, if you know what I'm saying."

"You're not serious. I gave you—" He stopped short, glanced at Maxie who still stood there watching them. Turning his back, he whispered, "You should have _plenty_."

"Well, I don't," Eric snapped, all humor gone from his voice. "And now that I see what you're up to, I'm wondering if I should leave at all. You get a girl and I get a one-way ticket out of town?"

" _I'm_ not the one who—" Again, Gnar caught his volume. With a sigh, he said, "Come back tomorrow, I'll give you everything you need. And then _go_ , Eric."

Eric looked over Gnar's shoulder again at Maxie and his grin returned. "You've got a pretty persuasive man here, Max," he said, clapping Gnar on the arm. Then he added, "Hitler was also persuasive." And with that, he was gone.

With a sigh, Gnar shut the door and turned back to Maxie. "What was _that_ about?" she demanded.

He shrugged. "It's always _something_ when Eric comes around."

"Why are you even friends with him? He's an asshole."

"He isn't my friend, Max," Gnar explained, plopping down on the couch. "He's my family. He came to live with me for a while when we were kids, but..." He shook his head. "He was just too much. My mom couldn't handle it, so he left again. I don't think he's had a real home anywhere since."

"Is that how he knows Isaac? From when you were kids?" Gnar nodded. "And he dislikes Isaac, I take it?"

"I think he resents Isaac. They came from similar situations, you know? Both had drunks for fathers and passive mothers who didn't protect them. But while Isaac was able to rise above it all, Eric just..." Shaking his head, he said, "He just _sank_."

"Why do you take care of him?" Maxie asked.

"He's my family," Gnar repeated. "You should know better than anyone how hard it is to wash your hands of someone, even if they deserve it."

Maxie lowered her eyes. "How do you manage to stay so good when you surround yourself with people like Eric and Drew?"

With a scoff, Gnar said, "Maxie. Compared to Eric, Drew was a saint."

#

When Maxie stepped into the apartment that evening, she heard Van's voice from the bedroom. "Isaac _please_ ," Van pleaded. "Just talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about," he replied.

Maxie paused. They were fighting. But why? "Yes, there is," Van insisted. "If you're mad about something—"

"I'm not mad, Van! Jesus. There's nothing wrong."

"Then why have you been so distant? Did I do something? _Please_ , Isaac."

"Is this because of last night? Look, I'm sorry. I worked all day, I was just tired. You're acting like I'm not allowed to have one night—"

" _Eight_ nights," Van corrected. Isaac said nothing. "Are you getting cold feet?" she asked.

"Jesus, Van."

" _Are_ you?"

"No," he said tiredly. "It's just been a long week—"

"You've barely even looked at me," she said.

"You're being dramatic—"

"You've been snapping at me."

"I have _not_ —"

"And you barely come off the roof."

"What do you _want_ , Van?" he lashed out. "I'm sorry for having some fucking alone time once in a while, how fucking dare I? God forbid I'm not up your ass twenty-four seven. God forbid we don't have sex every _single_ night."

Maxie cringed and quietly stole across the apartment toward her room. She didn't want to hear another word. She almost reached her door when Van stepped out into the hallway and gasped. "Oh, my God!" she cried, flipping on the light. Her eyes widened as she got a better view of Maxie. "What did you do to your hair?"

Maxie raised her hand to her curls, which were now cropped around the frame of her face, falling a little longer over her forehead. "I cut it," she said.

Isaac stepped out into the hall behind Van. He stopped and his eyes fell on Maxie. For a moment, their gazes locked. He inhaled a deep breath and held it in his chest. "Maxie, you and Elanna are supposed to be wearing up-dos for the wedding!" Van said.

"If you want to try to get it up in a ponytail, Van, be my guest," Maxie said.

Rolling her eyes, Van said, "I literally can't deal with anything else right now. I'm going to be late for work."

Neither Maxie nor Isaac moved from where they were standing as Van hurried out the door. When she was gone, Maxie said, "What do you think? Did I overdo it this time?"

Isaac moved closer to her, his eyes devouring her. He didn't even blink. He reached out and fingered one of her curls. "Well?" she said. But he didn't have to reply. Everything was right there for her, clear on his face.

She averted her eyes as heat crept up her cheeks. "Are you hungry?" she asked, turning away. "I'm hungry."

Following her to the kitchen, Isaac said, "It's a nice night. Let's have dinner on the roof. With wine."

She narrowed her eyes. "Wine on the roof."

He shrugged. "For old times' sake."

She chuckled and shook her head. "What do you know about old times, Isaac?"

He plopped down at the table. "Not much," he said. "But enough. Come here, sit. I have something for you."

"Something like what?"

"Sit," he repeated. She did. He smiled at her. "Your hair looks beautiful," he said.

"Thank you," she replied. "I did it for my birthday," she said.

"Very nice. What does _Gnar_ think?"

Maxie smirked. "He hasn't seen it yet. I don't spend _every_ second with him, you know."

"Oh? You had me fooled. You certainly haven't been spending any time _here_."

"I've been with Bea the last two days. Avery's been busy with his show so I fill in once in a while. Now tell me. What do you have for me?"

He nodded. "Of course," he said, reaching in his pocket. "I found it a few days ago and I've been wanting to give it to you since. You've been preoccupied, though." Maxie knew that _preoccupied_ meant _preoccupied_ _with Gnar,_ but she said nothing. "Ah. Here it is," he said, pulling his hand from his pocket.

Maxie sucked in a deep breath as he set the small, gold ring on the table between them and slowly slid it closer to her. "I think this belongs to you," he said.

Maxie stared at it, curling her hands into fists so as not to reach out and pick it up. "That's your mother's," she said, at last.

"It was. But if I remember correctly—which, believe me, I do—I gave it to you. I put it on your finger and told you that I have faith in God, in _God,_ that we would end up together." He leaned forward, folding his arms together on the table. "Go ahead. Tell me it was meaningless."

At last, she picked up the ring and turned it over in her fingers. "I'm not going to tell you that," she said. She _couldn't._

"Maximilienne, tell me. Were we in love?"

She kept her eyes on the ring. "Why won't you let it go, Isaac?"

"Because I can't!" he hissed. "I can't move forward until...until I know for sure."

"Know _what_ for sure?" she demanded. "You love _her,_ don't you? You know that for sure—"

"I don't. I _don't_ know for sure. I care about her, yes, but everything else? Love, engagements, _marriage_? I just...I don't _know_. I don't know about Van, Maxie, but I _need_ to know about you. _Were we in love_?"

"What did you want me to do?" she snapped, lowering her voice. "Was I supposed to just _tell you_ we were seeing each other? That the entire year and a half you spent with my best friend was all a _lie_ to cover up how you really felt for _me_?"

Isaac leaned back with a heavy breath. For a moment, he sat silently, his eyes moving widely over Maxie's face. "I knew it," he said, shaking his head.

He felt as if the thick haze that had been clouding his brain for the better part of a year was finally thinning out, even just a little. It explained so much. So many things made sense now. "I fucking _knew_ it."

"It doesn't matter—"

"It _does_ matter! Max, you and I—"

"No," she said sharply, rising to her feet. " _No._ " She made her way around the table and set the ring down in front of him. "There's no you and I, Isaac."

He stood, too. Their faces just inches apart, he asked, "Why?"

"What do you mean _why_?"

"Why didn't I choose you?" he asked.

She clutched the side of the table, afraid that if she let go she would collapse. Collapse into a pile of broken pieces at his feet. "You were _shot_ because of me."

"What was I doing here that night?" he asked. "Tell me."

Slowly, she took a step back. She could hardly breathe while he stood so close to her, his penetrating stare unwavering. "We were going to tell Van. About us. We were finally going to tell her. That's what you were doing here that night."

"So we _were_ together. _Really_ together."

"Yes."

"And we were... in love."

"Yes," she said at last. _At last._ The word burst out of her, all the way from her soul. " _Yes_. We were _so_ in love, Isaac. How could you _not remember_? How do you _forget_ that?"

He stared down at her, his expression full of anguish. "I don't know...I...I'm sorry, I just..."

"What I felt for you," she went on, "I felt it with my whole entire being. Not just my brain but with my heart and my soul and every part of my body, every single _piece_ of me. You would always say you could feel me. You always knew the right time to call, to sneak in my room, to come visit me because you could _feel_ me. Don't you feel me anymore, Isaac? Even just a little bit?" He opened his mouth as if to reply, but he didn't. Deflated, Maxie bowed her head again and took a step back.

"I'm sorry," he choked out.

"Don't be. It isn't your fault. In fact, it's _my_ fault. I tried to stay away from you, you know? But I just _couldn't_. You kept coming, and I couldn't stop you." She shook her head with shame. "I guess I never really _wanted_ to stop you. You shouldn't have been here that night. If I would have just stayed away, you _wouldn't_ have been there that night."

"But I was," he said.

She nodded. "And look. We're _still_ paying for it." She sighed and looked up at him as he came closer to her. "How do we get relief, Isaac?" she whispered.

He came closer still. "I can only think of one surefire way."

She shook her head. "Stop it."

"I'll try."

"Try harder," she said. "Your fiancé probably hasn't even made it to work yet."

"Why did I propose to her? If you and I were so in love, why did I propose to Van?"

And there it was. The million dollar question. For a moment, Maxie said nothing. Even with so much truth finally finding the light of day, lies were eminent. Inescapable. "You'll have to ask Van that question," she said.

He narrowed his eyes. "No. I'm asking _you_. If we were in love, Max, why did I choose _Van_?"

"Why does it matter?" she demanded. "Who cares what happened _before_? Why don't you worry about _today_ , Isaac? About _now_. _Now_ you're going to marry Van."

"Because I thought that's what I wanted before!"

"Because you _love_ her!" Maxie shot back.

He took a step back. "No. No, I care about her, but—"

"You love her, Isaac," she said. "You may be confused about everything else but that's one thing, in all of this, that's clear. Even if you didn't before, you do now. So why don't you just _let it go_?"

"I can't," he repeated, moving closer to her. "Because from the minute you walked into that hospital room claiming to be nothing more than _Van's roommate_ , I knew you were more. I _felt_ it. I still feel it."

She could feel her legs weaken beneath her. Her heart was swelling, fuller and fuller with every beat. With every word. "I remember more than the ring," he said. "I remember sitting with you on the couch watching scary movies. You'd practically be in my lap, and even when you had your eyes closed, you still jumped and screamed at the scary parts."

Maxie shook her head. "Stop."

"And I remember the time we were in the kitchen and I flicked some pancake batter at you." Maxie squeezed her eyes shut. She remembered that morning, too. He'd flicked the batter at her and it landed right on her cheek. In return, she hurled the entire bowl of batter back at him. The thick, gooey substance covered him from his head to his knees. "I held you down on the floor, right in front of the oven—"

"Isaac, just _stop_ ," she groaned.

"And I rubbed myself all over you so you'd be just as sticky as I was. And then I licked you clean—"

"Do you remember how you felt?" she asked. "You remember what you did, Isaac, you remember what you said. But do you remember how you _felt_?"

"I already told you—"

"No," she said, "I don't mean a nagging hunch. I mean the ache. In your chest and in the pit of your stomach. The lightness and the heaviness at once. The _pull_ ," she said, "when you look at me, and when you think about me, and when I'm near you and when I'm away. It's like a physical thing, living and breathing inside of you. Can you feel _that_?"

He moved closer to her, so close she could smell the remnants of his shower, and the cinnamon on his breath. Her chest grazed his with every breath. Raising his hands to the back of her neck, snaking them through the tangles of her curls, he pulled her closer still. She inhaled deeply, shut her eyes, her lips parted, and she waited.

He stopped just centimeters from her mouth and stared into her face. Yes, he'd seen that before. A hundred times, maybe more. He was sure about it.

At last, he brushed his lips against hers. Softly, at first, then fully. She accepted him with much more fervency than she rejected him with. And he savored every second of her mouth on his. She smelled familiar, tasted familiar, felt familiar. Yes, he _knew_ her. He knew her lips and her tongue and her hair and her face. He recognized the curve of her waist as his arm went around it, and the groan that emerged from her as her body relaxed in his embrace.

When he pulled away, her eyes remained shut. "What about now?" she whispered. "Can you feel it _now_?" When he said nothing, she let out a humorless chuckle. "It's okay. Sometimes, on really good days, I don't feel it as much, either."

"Maximilienne—"

"Stop," she said, dropping her head. He slowly let her go. She took a step back, but he only followed. "Stop calling me that. You're not you anymore. We're not _us_ anymore." She moved his hand, which still clutched the side of her shirt.

"Max, please—"

But his words were cut short by the doorbell. He pressed his lips together. "That's Gnar," she said.

Isaac straightened his spine. "Gnar. Of course." He nodded. "Brilliant choice."

Sweeping her hands across her eyes, Maxie pulled the door open and greeted Gnar with a forced smile. "Daniel," she said.

His eyes went to her hair and then to her flushed face. "What's wrong?" he demanded, cupping her cheeks in his hands.

"Nothing," Maxie said, squeezing his fingers.

Looking to Isaac, he said, "What happened?"

"Nothing," Maxie repeated, gently pinching him on the skin of his ribs. "Look at my hair. Do you like it?"

His apprehensive eyes softened as he took in her haircut. "Of course," he said. "You're stunning."

"Thank you," she replied.

Gnar looked at Isaac again, who remained in the middle of the floor. "Did I interrupt something?" he asked.

"No," said Maxie. "I was just about to lie down." Tilting her face toward his, she said, "Lie with me?"

At last, the doubt disappeared from his eyes, replaced by delight. He grinned that grin of his, enclosing Maxie's small frame in his embrace. "Lie down? Is that code for something?"

Maxie reddened, struggling to maintain her smile, struggling not to look back at Isaac, whose glare she could practically _feel_ piercing her in the back. "C'mon," she said, quietly.

But when she turned toward her bedroom, Isaac was gone.

* * *

Everyone gathered at the apartment for Maxie's birthday—Van and Isaac, of course, Gnar, Bea and Avery, Kathy, and even Tony. As she sat in her bedroom before the mirror, fingering her newly cropped curls, she couldn't swallow the lump of anxiety in her throat.

The last time everyone had congregated on her behalf, Tony had gone to the emergency room. Maxie imagined it must have taken a lot of convincing on Kathy's part to even get him back to their apartment. "Hey," Gnar said, bending to kiss her temple. "Don't look so stressed. It's your _birthday_."

She nodded. "I know. Everything is going to be fine," she said, maybe more for her own benefit than for Gnar's. "I'm fine."

"You always say that."

She chuckled. "Because I am."

Standing, she turned to him. "How do I look?"

She wore an extra special dress, floral and flowing down to her feet, not because she wanted to do more for her birthday, but because she could only hope that for one peaceful moment, her dress would distract Kathy from her hair.

"You look good enough to eat," he said, running the tips of his fingers across her shoulder.

Biting down on her bottom lip, she went to the door and locked it. With a one shoulder shrug, she said, "Have a taste."

Gnar, too, took his bottom lip between his teeth. He grinned lightly, his eyes moving down the length of her. "Right now?"

"Right here," she said.

He took a step toward her. She pressed her back to the door. Her chest rose and fell with heavy, anxious breaths. For weeks, every time they had gotten even _close_ to sex, they were interrupted. Phone calls, knocks at the door, uninvited visits from Maxie's monthly. But now, there was nothing to interrupt them. Nothing between them but their opportunity. Maxie was practically panting and he hadn't even touched her yet.

"Everyone's right outside the door," he said. "Is that what you want for our first time? A few minutes against your bedroom door while your family listens from the kitchen?"

"Beggars can't be choosers," she said with a modest shrug.

He grinned and took her in his arms. "As much as the thought of you begging thrills me," he said, "I want to take my sweet time exploring every sweet inch of you." He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. She purred against his mouth, pulled him even closer, took in more of him. With a chuckle, he gently untangled himself from her embrace. "Just a few more hours," he said. "And then we'll head straight to my place."

With a groan, she conceded. "Fine. Let's get this over with."

"Actually," he said, gently easing her toward the bed as his hands raised her dress. "I think I'll have a _little_ taste."

She grinned and fell back on her mattress as Gnar pushed the hem of her dress up to her waist, dropping to his knees before her. She inhaled sharply as his lips, full and moist, moved against the inside of her thigh. "Wait," she said, sitting up. "I won't be able to be quiet."

He laughed. "Why on _earth_ would I want you to be quiet?"

"Where are my panties?" Maxie demanded, dropping down to search under the bed. Gnar sat at the edge of the mattress, a mischievous grin on his lips. "Do you have them?"

He patted the pocket of his jeans. "I think I'll just hold onto them for now."

"Fine," she said, going to her dresser. "I'll just put on different ones."

But he stopped her. "Actually, I think I like the idea of having you completely naked under that dress all night." He palmed her behind through the thin fabric of her dress and groaned. "Yeah," he said. "I vote no panties."

She laughed. "We can skip an entire night of foreplay you know. Just say the word—" A loud knock on her door cut through her words.

"Maxie?" Van called from the other side. "What are you doing in there? Everyone's here! We're waiting for you!"

Maxie sighed and dropped her head against Gnar's chest. "C'mon," he said, leaning down and dropping a kiss on her temple. "Just a few hours."

She nodded. "Just a few hours."

"What were you guys _doing_ in there?" Van demanded, then frowned. "Actually, don't answer that."

"I wasn't going to," Maxie replied, and Gnar only laughed loudly, playfully swatting her behind as they entered the kitchen.

"Here she is," Van announced.

Kathy turned with a smile that instantly faded. "Oh, my God," she said. "What happened to your hair?" She turned back to Van. "I thought they were wearing up-dos!"

"They were _supposed_ to," said Van.

Kathy turned back to Maxie. "You couldn't wait until _after_ the wedding to do this?"

Maxie turned up her nose. " _No_."

"Well, don't you think that's a little selfish of you? Inconsiderate, at the very least."

"Maximilienne," Isaac said from across the room. "Happy birthday."

Kathy rolled her eyes. "Happy birthday, Max. Don't mind me, I'm just talking. Anyway, your hair doesn't look terrible. It's just bad timing is all."

"Sorry," Maxie replied, plopping down with a heavy breath. "I'll be sure to make sure my next haircut fits into all of your schedules."

"Oh, don't be dramatic," Kathy said with the wave of a hand.

Maxie felt Gnar behind her. He gently massaged her shoulders. "Wine?" he asked. But before she could accept, Isaac set a full glass down before her. He met Gnar's eyes straight on as he did so, then shot Maxie a glance with a matching smirk.

She glared at him. "Thanks," she mumbled.

"Speaking of your _wedding_ —" Gnar said to Isaac.

"Were we speaking of the wedding?" asked Isaac.

"—Are you ready? I mean, in just over a month you'll be _married._ "

"We're _so_ excited," Van said. "Have you seen my ring?"

She held up her hand for everyone to see but Tony rolled his eyes. "We've _all_ seen your ring, Van."

"About a hundred times," Bea added from where she sat on the counter.

"Well, look again," she snapped. "It's gorgeous." She grinned at Gnar. "I hope you're taking notes. You may be ring shopping next."

Sitting down beside Maxie, Gnar raised an eyebrow. "You think?" He looked at her. "What do you think, babe? Should I be thinking about engagement rings?"

"Let's get through one wedding before we start thinking about the next one."

Isaac scoffed. "That sounds like a _no_."

" _Isaac_!" Van snapped. "You don't mean no, right, Max? She just wants to focus all her energy on the task at hand, which I completely understand. There's still _so_ much to do. Have you started planning the shower?"

"What shower?"

"The bridal shower," Van said. "Don't tell me you haven't even started it."

"You haven't started planning the bridal shower, Maxie?" Kathy demanded.

"What the hell is a bridal shower?" Bea asked.

"Oh, my God," said Van, getting to her feet and pressing her fingers to her temples. "I can't think about this right now. I'm not supposed to feel this stressed before the wedding."

Bea laughed out loud. "You're not giving birth, Van."

"Max, what have you been _doing_ all this time?" Kathy asked.

"Let's see," Maxie said. "Dress shopping. Venue hunting. Cake tasting. The seating chart. Looking into florists and caterers—"

"Wait," Kathy interjected. "I thought you were cooking."

Maxie opened her mouth to speak but shut it instead as she reached for her glass of wine. "Maxie doesn't want to cater it, Mom," said Van.

"But you're a chef. Aren't you? Didn't you throw away a promising dance career to be a chef? Why the hell are we spending money on a caterer if we have a damn chef in the family?"

"Right, Maxie," Isaac cut in, raising his own glass. "How _dare_ you not do every _single_ thing for this wedding. As a matter of fact, why don't you carry us both to the alter, too? Why don't _you_ put the rings on our fingers? Are you ordained? You may as well officiate the ceremony while you're at it."

Bea threw her head back and laughed loudly. Avery lowered his chin, pressing his lips together so as not to be as obvious with his amusement. Van crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Isaac. "Don't be a jerk, alright? We all know Maxie's been doing a lot for the wedding. No one's saying she isn't."

"No?"

Maxie looked miserably at Gnar. She wanted to ask him how many more of those hours he'd previously mentioned were left, but she didn't bother. Even another _minute_ was too long.

"Maybe you should have your best friend Elanna plan it," Bea suggested. "What has _she_ done?"

"Elanna? We haven't seen Elanna around in a while. How's she doing?" Isaac asked, his eyes fastened on Gnar.

Maxie also looked at Gnar. " _You_ speak to Elanna?"

"Why would _I_ speak to Elanna?"

"Elanna's worthless," Van said with the wave of a hand. "The only thing she's good for is the wedding photos. _I'll_ plan the shower. Alright, Max? One less thing you have to worry about."

"How generous of you, Van," Maxie replied.

After dinner—they'd ordered out, of course—Bea unveiled a small cake and they all sang happy birthday. Once Maxie blew out her candles, Kathy said, "You're a year older now, Max. What's next for you?"

_Distance_ , Maxie thought, but instead she shrugged. She still hadn't officially announced her plans to leave yet. Once in a while, she fantasized about simply packing up and going, leaving behind no explanation, only a short letter of goodbye. "Another cookbook, maybe," she said.

"Another cookbook," Kathy echoed, unimpressed.

"Speaking of cookbooks," said Bea, getting to her feet. She pulled three thick, shiny cookbooks from her bag. They were held together with a perfectly knotted bow. "Happy birthday, Max," Bea said.

"I didn't know we were doing gifts," said Van with a pout. "I didn't get you anything."

"I did," said Isaac. Everyone look up at him. "From both of us, Van," he added.

He went into the bedroom and returned with a thin, rectangular box. "Another book?" Van asked. "She has like a hundred books already."

"It's not a book," he said, giving it to Maxie.

She took it, held it for a moment. The box was light. Isaac hadn't bothered wrapping it. Carefully pulling it open, Maxie gasped upon setting eyes on the magazine that sat inside.

"Oh, my _God_ ," Van cried, getting to her feet.

Kathy's eyes widened. "Where did you _get_ that?"

With a light shrug, he said, "Called an old friend in Italy. She tracked it down for me. Happy birthday, Max."

But Maxie barely heard him. She barely heard any of them. She only stared at the magazine, seven years old but in pristine condition. _Audace!_ Her photos graced the pages of that very issue.

She carefully lifted it from the box and opened it. The pages were thick and glossy. She found the ones she was looking for almost instantly.

There she was. Seventeen-year-old Maxie in black and white, wearing a leotard and points, forever frozen in dance. She didn't think she ever wanted to see those photos again, and yet now she didn't ever want to look away from them.

At last, she raised her eyes to Isaac. His were on her, so full of a thousand things. She saw every single one of them. "Thank you," she choked out.

He nodded. "You're welcome." Looking up at Van, he said, "You should leave it on the coffee table. I think we're all old enough now, no?"

Smiling tightly, Van nodded. "Of course, Max. That's perfect."

Gnar got to his feet. "Well," he said. "I was going to wait until we were alone to give you this, but since you're accepting gifts, I'll just give it to you now." Looking at Maxie, he grinned. "It isn't a ring." From his back pocket, he pulled an envelope. "Happy birthday," he said.

She couldn't help but smile as she turned the envelope over in her hand. "What is it?" she asked.

"Open it and see!" Bea said.

Gnar nodded. "Open it and see."

Still smiling, she carefully ripped the envelope open and pulled out its contents. For a moment, she studied the piece of paper inside before her hand went to her mouth. "What is it?" Van pressed.

"It's a...a plane ticket."

"To France," Gnar clarified, turning to Isaac. "Leaving right after the wedding." Maxie raised her gaze to him. "I have one, too," he said.

"Let me see," Kathy said, taking it from her. She barely even noticed. She couldn't take her eyes off Gnar. "One way," Kathy said.

"One _way_?" Van cried. "You aren't coming back?"

"That's what it looks like," Maxie said, practically snatching the ticket back from Kathy. "What's wrong, Van? You've been wanting me to move out, haven't you? Kathy?"

"Not out of the _country_ ," Van said.

"You're being dramatic again," said Kathy.

"Because I want to travel?" Maxie asked.

Bea stood and embraced her friend. "I'm happy for you, Max."

"I am, _too_ ," said Van. "Just...surprised. I mean, you haven't even given it any real thought—"

"Sure she has," said Isaac. "Right, Max? You've been planning to run off for months already. Kudos, Gnar, on seizing the opportunity."

" _Months_?" Kathy cried. "You've been making plans to move to Europe for _months_?"

Again, Maxie glared at Isaac. "You all know I've always wanted to travel," she said.

"And so has Gnar," said Isaac. " _Perfect._ "

"Well, I personally think we should at least _talk_ about this," Kathy said. "Jesus, Maxie. For once, you could have thought about how the rest of us would feel."

"For _once_?" She exclaimed. "Why are you even upset? Kathy, all you've done since I quit dancing is complain about me not doing anything meaningful with my life. How many times have you told me I can't live in this apartment forever? How many times have you told me to _spread my wings?_ And Van, don't pretend you don't want me out of here as badly as Kathy does."

"I don't—"

"You _do_. So why shouldn't I go see the world? Why shouldn't I do what I want to do with my own life? Because you won't have me under your thumb anymore? Because you won't be able to take care of me for the sole purpose to reminding me every chance you get of how much you've done for me?"

" _Excuse_ me?" Kathy cried.

"Alright, Max," Gnar said, placing a hand on her shoulder, but she only shook it off.

"Don't act like you don't live for the moments you can throw it all back in my face," she said. "I ruined all your lives, drove your husband and father away, and you _still_ took care of me. Right?"

Getting to her feet, Kathy moved closer to Maxie. "You ungrateful little shit. I _did_ take care of you."

"Of course. So let me spend the rest of my life on the floor at your feet. Continue to walk all over me, _please_. After all, I _owe_ you."

"You don't owe us anything," Van said.

"Yes, I do. I owe you my time, my obedience. I owe you say over all of my decisions. And God _forbid_ I do something for myself. I'm _yours_. _You're_ the only ones that are allowed to give me _anything_."

"I don't have to listen to this," Kathy said, grabbing her purse. "I came all the way out here to celebrate with you—"

"And criticize me," Maxie said, "And express your eternal disappointment in my life choices. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, _yet again_."

Tony stood in the living room, grinning. "Why do we even come here?" he asked. "It's always the same."

"Yeah, well. Lesson learned," Kathy said. She pivoted and stormed out of the apartment, Van and Tony on her heels.

Maxie spun around to face Isaac. "Are you happy?" she asked.

He shook his head slowly. "I'm the exact opposite of happy," he said. He stared at her for a moment, the distress in his eyes, locked on hers. For a short moment, she forgot about everyone else in the room. _Don't go_ , he was saying.

Taking a step back, she broke free of his gaze at last. "Thank you for coming," she quietly told Bea and Avery.

"I can't say I regret it," Avery replied, and Bea nudged him.

To Gnar, she said, "I think I want to be alone right now."

His expression dropped but she didn't wait for an objection before she turned and went to her room.

Maxie heard her bedroom door open from where she sat on her fire escape. She let out a heavy sigh and for the shortest of seconds, considered climbing the stairs to the next floor, or maybe the floor after that.

Isaac appeared at her window. She didn't turn to acknowledge him, and he said nothing, just climbed out and sat beside her. Finally, she said, "What's your _problem_?"

He chuckled. "You are. And I have a feeling you've _been_ my problem, for quite some time."

"I'm going with him," she said. "You're going to marry Van, and I'm going to leave with Gnar. And that will be the end. Problem solved."

"And until then?"

"Until then, nothing." She sat up. "Until then, I'm going to try my best to distance myself from you and from _this_."

He lowered his eyes. "That's not fair. You never even gave me a _chance_. You just made the decision for me. Well _I_ want to make the decision, Maxie." His hand moved over hers. "Please, just...if you just give me a little time..."

"A little time for what? What decision? Me or Van? Is that what you're asking me to wait around for you to decide? Isaac, you chose! You gave her the proposal, you gave her the ring!"

"That was before I knew the truth."

"It doesn't matter! If Van is even an _option_ , I can't be."

"Maxie."

"Do you know how long I've been sharing you with her?" she went on. "Three _years_ , almost. Three years Van has got to flaunt her feelings for you proudly while mine have _suffocated_ inside of me. She has you and I have guilt, and anger, and bitterness, and remorse."

Quietly, he said, "You never even gave me a _chance_."

"I was trying to protect you," she said.

"By lying?"

She shook her head. "By setting you free."

"And what if I don't want to be set free, Maximilienne? What if Van isn't the one I want to be with?"

Tiredly, Maxie said, "What if she is? You don't know for sure, do you?"

"But before I was shot—"

"Before you were shot, you knew. You knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, Isaac, that you were in love with me. _Only_ me. And even then it was barely enough. Now you can't even _remember_ me."

"I remember you."

"Not enough. Not _nearly_ enough." She got to her feet. "Loving you _hurts_. I just don't want to feel it anymore. I just want to move on. Please. Let me."

He sat there, unmoving, his eyes full of everything he wanted to say, everything he didn't know how to say. Finally, he murmured, "I can't."

"You have no choice. I'm going to walk away from you now," she said. "Almost three years too late, I'm going to walk away from you."

"Max."

"You don't have to choose, Isaac. I'm making it easy for you," she said. "We have no more secrets. There are no more lies. We can _all_ be free now."

#

Isaac woke to darkness and silence. Van lay beside him, unmoving. In fact, the entire room was pitch black and still, yet he felt as if someone had screamed his name from the end of the bed.

He sat up and peered around, blinking away the remnants of sleep before lowering his feet to the floor. The hallway was as serene as his bedroom. He paused at Maxie's door to listen, but no sounds came from there either. He used the bathroom before making his way back to the bedroom, but paused as he passed the kitchen.

Even through the darkness, he could see her standing there, completely still. Sleeping. "Max," he said. She didn't reply. "Maxie," he said louder, and flipped on the light. When the room illuminated, he inhaled sharply.

Maxie stood there, empty eyes staring aimlessly, her fingers wrapped tightly around the blade of a kitchen knife. Blood dripped from her hand into a growing pool at her feet.

Her eyes flickered to life against the light. She blinked and focused, and instantly her gaze went to the knife. She gasped, opened her hand, now split open across her palm. For a moment, she stared at it, dazed, and then her eyes rolled back and she collapsed.

"Van!" Isaac screamed, rushing to Maxie's side. He lifted her head onto his lap. "Hey," he said, gently shaking her. "Maximilienne, open your eyes. Can you hear me? _Maximilienne_. _Van_!"

Van came stumbling into the kitchen in a daze, her features still riddled with sleep. "What's wrong—oh, my God!" she cried. She rushed to Maxie, narrowly missing the puddle of blood beside her. "Oh, my God, what happened?"

"Give me a cup of cold water," he ordered.

"What's _wrong_ with her?"

" _Water_ , Van!" he barked.

Van obliged before hurrying to fetch a towel at Isaac's request. He slowly poured the water over Maxie's face. She stirred, squeezed her eyes shut tighter, moaned. "Hey, hey, I'm here," Isaac crooned. "Maximilienne, look at me. Open your eyes and see me."

Her eyes fluttered open and found Isaac's face. He exhaled in relief. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Is she awake?" Van demanded, returning with the towel.

"I'm...my...my _hand_ ," she groaned, trying to raise her hand, but Isaac quickly covered it with the towel.

"Your hand is okay," he said. "It's just a cut, you're fine."

She cried out in agony. "It _hurts_ ," she moaned. "Isaac, it hurts."

"I know. C'mon, we'll get it fixed," he said, gathering her in his arms.

"Should I call an ambulance?" Van asked. Maxie didn't even object.

"No," he said, getting to his feet. "I'm going to take her to the hospital myself."

Maxie sat keeled over in the front seat of Isaac's car, clutching her hand to her chest. She's already bled through both the towel and Isaac's t-shirt, and she was beginning to feel lightheaded. "Hey," Isaac said, reaching over to stroke her damp forehead. "We're almost there."

She nodded. "I'm getting blood on your seat."

"Don't worry about the seat," he said. "Just don't pass out again."

"Alright," she said, shutting her eyes as her head fell lightly against the door. The sight of bright red blood—so much of it—was making her queasy. Her hand had gone numb, except for the occasional sharp kick of pain.

When they arrived at the emergency room, Isaac carried her inside where she was taken into a back room. "You can wait here," the nurse said.

"No!" Maxie cried.

"No," Isaac echoed, calmly. He followed them to the room where he sat uncomfortably in a tiny, corner chair while the nurse washed and dressed Maxie's wound until a doctor was available to stitch it.

"How did you _do_ this?" the nurse asked. "Your entire palm is open."

"I had a nightmare," she said, glancing over the nurse's shoulder at Isaac. He never took his eyes off her.

"A nightmare!" the nurse said.

"I was sleepwalking."

"You're going to need quite a few stitches. Just hold tight, okay? A doctor will be with you soon."

When she was gone, Isaac went to Maxie. Gently, he picked up her bandaged hand and examined it. "Are you in a lot of pain?" he asked, stroking the inside of her fingers.

"Not too much," she said.

"What did you dream about?" he asked.

"The night you were shot. You never survive, you know. In my dreams."

"I survived, Maximilienne," he said. Still holding her hand, he peered around the room. "Déjà vu," he said.

She chuckled. "Our first date was in the emergency room."

He raised an eyebrow. "No kidding."

"You hit me with your car," she said.

" _What_? How have I never heard this story?"

She chuckled at the memory. "It was Christmas. I was crossing the street and you ran right into me."

"And then what?"

"Then you came to the hospital with me, and you tried to get me to stay the night, but I lied and told you that my roommate was a nurse. So you brought me home...and you met Van."

"Did I like her?"

"I'm not sure. But she liked _you_."

He sighed. She sighed. "I'm sorry," he said. She said nothing. "Did we fight a lot?"

"Only about the same things." _Van_. _Us_. _Being_ _together_. Maxie smiled wistfully at the memory of one of their more dramatic tiffs. "Once, we were at your apartment, and we started arguing about whether to tell Van the truth again. I got so upset and tried to storm out, and you wouldn't _let_ me. I mean, you _physically_ would not let me go." She laughed, remembering the way she stood puny and harmless before him, hitting him and shoving him with frustration as he wouldn't let her pass. And he only stared down at her, as calm as ever, with an amused smirk on his lips. "You just thought it was funny, seeing me try to muscle my way past _you_."

He scoffed. "That _is_ funny."

"So I got frustrated and locked myself in the bathroom. And you just left me in there, too. I ended up falling asleep in the tub. I woke up, sometime in the middle of the night, and you'd picked the locked to use the toilet. You were just standing there, staring at me while you peed."

He laughed. "Then what?"

"You got me out of the tub and carried me to bed. And you kissed me and apologized. And I apologized. And we..."

"We what?"

She glanced at him with a shy smile. "We made up."

Before he could reply, the door opened and the doctor stepped inside, Gnar behind him. "Daniel!" Maxie said.

"Hey," he said, practically elbowing Isaac out of his way as he pulled her against him. "Are you alright?"

"What are you doing here?" Maxie asked.

"Van called me," he said. "What happened? You cut yourself?"

"I was sleepwalking," she said.

"Sleepwalking? Since when do you sleepwalk?"

She shrugged. "Since about...ah..."

"Six months ago," Isaac piped up.

Gnar cut his eyes at Isaac. "How do _you_ know?"

"How do you _not_ know?" Isaac retorted.

"You know what—" Gnar said, turning to face Isaac, but the doctor stepped in his path.

"Gentleman," he said, raising his palms to the both of them. "I have to stitch up Miss Shannen's hand now before she loses any more blood. Unfortunately, it's a little too crowded in here. One of you needs to go."

Gnar crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the narrow bed. "I guess _I'll_ go," Isaac said. With a nod, he added, "Max."

"Thank you, Isaac," she said. He nodded again and disappeared out the door.

Gnar stopped walking. Maxie made it another few feet before she noticed he wasn't beside her anymore and turned back. "Move in with me," he said.

"What?"

"I know it doesn't make sense to pack all of your stuff and move out when we'll be packing up again right after the wedding, but Max. I...I'm trying here. I'm trying, but failing _miserably_. I cannot function when you're in that house with him. _I_ should have been the one to bring you here tonight. _I_ should have known you sleepwalk—"

"I'll do it," she said.

"—and if you're serious about us—" He stopped short. "You what?"

"I'll do it, Daniel. I'll move in with you." For a moment, he stood there, puzzled. She went to him, rose onto her tiptoes and dropped a peck on his chin. "Tomorrow," she said. "Alright?"

"Alright."

She nodded. "Alright." With a sigh, she said, "This birthday was quite eventful, to say the least." Shaking her head as she turned back to the car, she said, "I think I'll skip next year's."

* * *

"Your mother sleepwalked," Victor said, taking a sip of his coffee. It was a Sunday afternoon and they shared muffins. Maxie stopped chewing as her eyes widened.

"She _did_?"

"Sure. For years."

"I didn't know that," Maxie said.

He nodded. "You were usually sleeping when it happened. I always brought her back to bed. Sometimes right away, other times I'd just let her walk. To see where she went."

"Where did she go?"

"Back yard, mostly. She'd just stand out there. I used to watch her, just standing there, looking up, and wonder what she was dreaming about."

"The rain probably."

Victor smiled. "She loved the rain." He lowered his eyes, his wistful smile faded to nothingness.

"How often did it happen?"

"Whenever she was stressed. So pretty often, with her depression and all."

"Do you ever miss her?" Maxie asked.

"Every day," he replied. With a chuckle, he said, "It was hard on Nicole and I at first, believe it or not. Trust me, Maxie, I am a hundred percent aware of my role in your mother's death. I know that if maybe I'd been there more, been more attentive, showed her—showed you _both_ —more love, then maybe she would still be alive. Maybe we could've gotten her help, maybe she wouldn't even have _needed_ help. So when I met Nicole, who was _such_ a blessing, one I certainly didn't deserve...Well, I worshipped her, treated her like a _queen_ , like more than a queen. You'd think any woman would want that, but she saw right through it."

"What do you mean?"

"It wasn't genuine. I wasn't doing it because it was what was right, or because it was what she deserved. I was doing it because when I treated her well, my guilt for the way I treated your mother became a little easier to deal with."

"And what about now?"

"Now I treat Nicole well because I love her, and I appreciate her, and if I've learned nothing else at all, I've learned that you're supposed to treat the people you love and appreciate well. Life is short, Maxie." He took her hand and squeezed it.

"Had you ever come close to giving up on each other?" she asked.

"Oh, yes," he said. "Plenty of times. There were about nine months in the beginning when we'd broken up. She went out and got herself another boyfriend."

"But you worked it out."

He nodded. "We did. When things are meant to happen, they happen."

"And when they're not," she said, "they don't."

Victor narrowed his eyes. "Are we still talking about me and Nicole?"

With a chuckle, Maxie said, "Of course." Without meeting his eyes, she took another bite of her muffin.

* * *

Gnar's apartment was almost completely bare. In a matter of weeks, he managed to sell off nearly all the antiques, trinkets, and vintage valuables he'd collected over the years. "I think I'll miss her the most," he said, running his fingers over the keys of his piano.

"Have you found a buyer for her yet?" Maxie asked as she lay on top and watched him.

"I think so," he replied. "This guy from the gym. I don't know, though. I want someone who will take care of her."

"I'm sure her beauty will be preserved, wherever she ends up."

He smiled at her. "Dance for me?" he said. He began to play Maxie's favorite song. "As a tribute to our girl," he said. "Our magnificent songstress."

"Well, if it's for _our girl_ ," she said, lowering herself to the floor. She danced for him, through one song and then two more. With her eyes shut, she twirled around the vast, empty room. When the final song concluded, Gnar rose from his chair and went to her. She opened her arms to him as he lifted her from her feet with one swift, easy motion.

"Time to make our own routine," he said, carrying her to his bedroom. His bed was one of the only pieces of furniture he had not disposed of or sold. Maxie suspected it was because it had not yet served its purpose.

Finally, it was going to serve its purpose.

Except they didn't even make it all of way to the bed before Gnar's shirt was off and Maxie's bra was unsnapped as they clawed ravenously at one another. Gnar fell back on the mattress, Maxie bare from the waist up and on top of him. He ogled at her, one of his hands clutching her hip, the other trailing slowly up her belly and through the valley of her breasts. She threw back her head and moaned as the tips of his fingers met her lips.

"Maxie," he said, pulling her face to his. Her mouth was moist, she was panting. "If I could only listen to one thing for the rest of my life, I would want it to be the sound of your moaning."

He flipped her over so that she lay on her back and slowly pulled her shorts off of her. Maxie watched him as he undressed her, moving so gently, so diligently, pausing every few moments to behold every bare part of her. He bit down on his bottom lip once she was completely naked, ran his fingers up and down her frame, letting them linger momentarily in his favorite places.

Maxie grabbed him by his muscular arms and pulled him against her, trapping him between her thighs. "I can't wait anymore," she breathed.

He grinned, untangling himself from her limbs and kissed a trail down past her belly button. "I promise it will be worth the wait," he said, his mouth never leaving her skin, only moving down further and further.

Maxie inhaled sharply at the sensation of his warm breath against her, his moist lips, his probing tongue. And then, from the dresser, came the high-pitched wail of her cell phone. She instantly recognized the tone. It was Van. "Ignore it!" Maxie said sharply as Gnar pulled back.

"Gladly," he replied. But as soon as the phone stopped ringing, it started up again. Maxie groaned, throwing her arms over her face as Gnar let out a frustrated cry, falling back onto the carpet. "Maxie, I'm going to explode," he said as she went to fetch her phone. "Fucking _explode_."

Maxie missed Van's second call but the third followed close behind it. "Yes?" Maxie answered. When she heard nothing, she said, "Van, I'm about to hang up and turn off my phone—"

"He left," Van said at last.

"What?"

"Isaac. He's gone. The wedding's off, he's gone."

Maxie nearly dropped the phone. Her insides constricted, she struggled to remain upright. "W-why?" she stammered, turning away from Gnar whose eyes were fastened on her face. Did he see how she paled?

"Don't act innocent, Maxie," she said. Maxie pulled on a shirt over her nudity. Gnar sighed loudly and reached for his underwear.

"What are you talking about, Van?"

There was more silence, and when Van spoke again, she was sobbing. "You _told_ him! You couldn't _wait_ to tell him, and _don't_ deny it!"

"I didn't—"

" _Don't lie_!" Van screamed. "You've always wanted him for yourself," she sniveled. "You take _everything_. My father. Isaac. Alex—"

Maxie jerked the phone away from her ear in bewilderment. "What? Van, listen to me—"

"Why can't _I_ be happy?" Van demanded. "He _wanted_ to marry me, Maxie, he did!"

Maxie sank to the floor where she stood. "I swear I didn't tell," she said softly. "Van, I swear."

"You're a liar. A miserable liar! You don't deserve him, you don't deserve anything! I wish we would have let you rot, alone, with no one!"

Maxie squeezed her eyes shut. How often did Van wish that? she wondered. How often did Kathy wish it? "I didn't tell," she repeated.

"I hate you," Van said sharply. "I want you to come get the rest of your shit out of my apartment and then I never want to see you again. And I mean it this time! Do you hear me?" Her voice broke. "I mean it this time, Maxie." With that, she hung up.

Maxie held the phone to her ear for a moment longer, clutching it so hard her wounded palm stung. "Hey," Gnar said, kneeling beside her. "Are you alright?"

"Isaac called off the wedding," she said. "He left her."

Unfazed, Gnar said, "So we can leave sooner, then."

Maxie frowned. "Did you hear what I just said?"

"I did," he said. "From my understanding, we were only waiting because we didn't want to miss the wedding. But if there won't be a wedding—"

"I have to go," she said, standing.

"Go where?"

" _Daniel_ ," she said, "Isaac _dumped_ Van. She's devastated, I need to go be with her."

"That phone call didn't sound like she wants your company at the moment, Max." His tone was flat and even, completely devoid of emotion. Maxie opened her mouth to say something, but instead she turned away to gather her clothes. "Have you changed your mind?" he demanded, following her to the living room where her discarded shirt remained. "Already?"

"Changed my mind about what?"

"About us."

" _Why_ would this make me change my mind about us?"

"You _know_ why," he said, his voice low and dark.

She sighed and dropped her head in her hands. "Is Isaac going to be a shadow over this relationship forever?" she asked. "Will all of our conversations end up about him?"

"The minute we step on that plane, I won't ever think of Isaac again," he said. "But what about you? How often will _you_ be thinking of him?"

"As often as _you_ pick a fight about him," she shot back. "I'm going to comfort my friend, Daniel. To try to revive my dying relationship with her, if it's not already six feet under."

"If you're so worried about Van, then why did you tell him?" he asked.

She threw her head back in exasperation. "I didn't tell him!" she practically screamed.

"Well he knows, Max. Who else would have told him?"

She shrugged weakly. "I think...I think he's remembering things."

Gnar recoiled. "Things like what?"

"Things like never being engaged to Van, apparently," she said.

"And what else?" he pressed, going closer to her.

Lowering her eyes, she said. "I don't know what else. But I don't _care._ Isaac and I are done. We're really done. I'm sorry I fell in love with him. Even more sorry than the rest of you. If you think you've been hurt because of it, well, just imagine how _I_ feel."

"Then let him go, Max," he said with a shrug. "If you're suffering so much, do something about it."

"I _am_ letting him go," she said. "I _did_ let him go."

"Oh? So then you won't have a problem getting rid of this," he said, and pulled the small gold lock pendent from his pocket. He tossed it up and Maxie caught it against her chest. Against her heart. For a moment, she held it there.

"You _took_ this from me?" she asked.

"I did, yes," he replied flatly. "I planned on flushing it, but since you've let him go, I'll let you do the honors."

"I'm not _flushing_ anything," she said. "And how _dare_ you! Why the hell are you going through my stuff?"

With a humorless chuckle, he said, "You think I get kicks out of going through stuff in other people's houses, but I wouldn't go through stuff in my own?"

Maxie stared at him, struck by speechlessness. Had she thought she was so lucky as to get only the gentle, charming, magnetic Gnar? Had she thought she was _exempt_ from the callousness? The wickedness? The deviousness?

She took a step back, lowered her gaze. "I'm going to see Van," she said quietly. "If my mind is changed, Daniel, you're the one who's changed it. I mean, haven't I proven myself? I begged you to take me back. I moved in with you. I'm fleeing the _country_ with you. What else do you _want_ from me?"

He shook his head. "I just want _you_ , Max."

"You _have_ me," she said. "I'm standing right here, yours for the taking."

"Then give me the lock," he said, opening his palm to her. She was still clutching it tightly in her fist, which was now tucked behind her back.

She shook her head. "No."

"Maxie—"

"It's just a pendent, Gnar!"

"Now I'm Gnar again?"

" _Daniel_."

"Give it to me," he said. "If that one tiny piece of Isaac doesn't mean more to you than me, then let me have it."

Her fist closed even tighter around the pendent. She couldn't just give it to him. She hadn't been without that pendent in nearly two years. She couldn't just _give_ it to him. "Daniel," she pleaded.

" _Maxie_."

"You're not being fair," she said, her voice trembling. The burn of tears stung the backs of her eyes, she could feel her face flush. But she couldn't cry. What would he think if she cried?

"You know what?" he conceded. "Keep the fucking lock. Keep it."

She didn't try to stop him when he put on his shoes and left.

Soon after Gnar left the apartment, Maxie left it, too. She went straight to Van's apartment and let herself in. The place was in disarray. The couch pillows were scattered throughout the living room. A broken plate remained on the kitchen floor. The side table in the hall was turned over, and all of its contents were splayed out before it.

Maxie assumed Isaac hadn't taken the truth very well.

"Van?" she called, moving slowly through the mess. She couldn't help but pick up the pillows as she walked by them, straighten the magazines on the table, turning the candles upright again. When she reached Van's bedroom, she paused at the door.

Van moaned from the other side of the door.

Maxie took a step back.

Maybe Van didn't need comforting after all. Maybe Isaac wasn't as angry as Maxie first assumed.

She peered around the apartment again. It looked as if a tornado hit it. Or a war. But, of course, she and Isaac had fought a few wars of their own. They fought and then they made up as aggressively. Why would it be any different for him and Van?

But then, just as she was about to turn and leave, she heard, " _Alex_."

Alex?

Maxie raised her hand to her mouth. His words echoed in her memory. _We're_ really _getting along...You had to have seen it coming. Van, a fashion model. Me, a fashion photographer. I think it was fate._

But he'd been lying. He'd just been trying to get under her skin. And yet, Van's voice sounded again. "Alex," she howled.

Before Maxie could consider her own actions, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. Neither Van, nor Alex realized they were no longer alone. Alex was on top of her, her long legs wrapped around him. Maxie slapped her hand over her mouth.

"Oh, my God!" Van cried, finally noticing Maxie standing at the foot of her bed. Alex glanced back and his eyes widened.

Stumbling backward, Maxie spun around and rushed from the room. She went to the bedroom that was once hers and began to gather the last of her things that remained there. "How dare you just walk in here," Van lashed out from behind her. "You don't live here anymore, you can't just walk in here!"

"I came here to _comfort_ you!" Maxie shot back, whipping around to face her friend. "I fought with Gnar because I thought I needed to be here to comfort _you_."

"Comfort me?" Van cried with a shrill laugh. "It's your fault I would even need comforting! If you'd just kept your mouth shut—"

" _I didn't tell_!" Maxie screamed. Just then Alex stepped into the room, now clothed, and paused behind Van. "I should have told," Maxie said.

Suddenly Van was across the room. She raised a firm hand and delivered a solid blow to the curve of Maxie's cheek. Maxie recoiled slightly, but she didn't turn away. "Fuck you," Van spat. "He loves me, Maxie. He may be upset right now, but he does love me. So _fuck_ you. We could have been happy!"

"So happy you've been fucking Alex," Maxie said.

Van raised her hand again but this time Alex caught her wrist and jerked her back. "I can't believe I've been so blind," Van said. "I can't believe I've missed it for so long. How long have you been in love with him, Maxie? How long have you been waiting for the perfect chance to sabotage what he and I had?"

Maxie shook her head. "I never wanted that, Van—"

"Then fix it!" she yelled. She went to Maxie, took her by the shoulders, and gave her a sharp jolt. Her eyes were wide and wild, glossy and red rimmed. When she blinked, several tears fell at once. "You need to fix this. Do you hear me?" She gave Maxie another shake, and then her face crumbled and she dropped her head. "You've always brought him back, Max, please. _Please_ fix this."

Still clutching Maxie, Van fell to her knees, bringing her friend with her. Alex remained by the door, his eyes on Van, his expression blank. Poor Alex. Never anything more than a placeholder. A distraction.

"Fix it, Max," Van begged through her tears. "Please, please fix it."

Maxie held Van's head against her chest and rocked slowly back and forth as Van cried. "I can't," she whispered. "I can't this time."

Suddenly Van jerked back, shoving Maxie as she stood. Swiping the back of her hand across her wet cheek, she said, "Then get the fuck out of my apartment and never come back." With that, she pivoted and disappeared form the room.

Neither Maxie, nor Gnar spoke when Maxie returned to the apartment that evening. He was in the bedroom when she arrived, and she barely looked at him as she got undressed and slipped into a nightshirt. She laid down beside him, but they didn't touch. She turned her back to him and shut her eyes. All she wanted was to sleep.

"How's Van?" Gnar asked quietly.

"Fucking Alex," she replied.

There was silence behind her for a moment. Maybe Gnar trying to comprehend her words. She could barely comprehend them herself, and she'd witnessed it firsthand. "How are _you_?"

"Fine. I don't care about Alex."

"But you care about Van," he said.

At last, Maxie opened her eyes. She stared straight ahead through the darkness. How could she be upset? _Her_ , of all people? She wondered how long it had been going on. She wondered how much Van struggled with it. If she loved him. If she hated herself for loving him.

Maxie didn't think either of those things were true. She'd fallen at Maxie's feet earlier, with no regard to Alex standing right there, and cried for Isaac. _Begged_ for him.

With a sigh, Maxie closed her eyes again. Tonight, she would sleep. Tomorrow she would work. And then, she would leave. Gnar was right. There was no wedding, so why should she wait? Her new life was out there, waiting for her to move into it.

"Maxie," Gnar said again. She felt his hand graze her spine. Instantly, she sat up. "I'm going to Bea's."

Out of the bed, she began to dress again. Gnar stood, too, but he only watched her, his eyes full and frustrated and helpless. "I'm sorry," he said. "This is just hard for me—"

"I know," she said. "It's hard for me, too."

Grabbing her belongings, she went for the door and then stopped. Turning only slightly back to him, she said, "I haven't changed my mind."

#

"What do you mean you're _quitting_? You can't quit," said Sharp.

"Unless you find a way for me to wait tables from Europe," Maxie replied, "I _have_ to quit."

"Europe? What the hell's in Europe? Listen I'm opening up another restaurant at the beginning of next year. It'll be up and running right after New Year's. I planned on making you a manager. An assistant manager," he said. "Not the big dog, but still in charge. And Max, with less than a year of experience in this industry, you won't find anyone else that'll do that for you. Not even in your Europe."

"I'm going to learn a lot overseas," she said.

"You'll learn a lot _here_ ," he insisted. "I'll teach you everything I know. By the time you open your restaurant, you'll be able to run it with your eyes closed. Hell, maybe I'll invest."

"You can still invest," Maxie said. "When I come back."

He sighed. "See, that's the bad thing about you smart, ambitions ones. Always moving on to bigger and better things."

Maxie smiled and placed a hand on top of his. "Thank you, Sharp. For everything."

With a nod, he said, "You'll always have a place here, Maxie. I don't meet many young people who work as hard as you. You're going to be great, wherever you end up. Just don't forget the little people, alright?"

She laughed. "I'll think of you while I'm filming my award winning cooking show on the food channel."

"I'm counting on it," he said. After finally accepting her notice, he wished her well and she went to clock out for the evening.

"Maxie," Liz, the hostess, called from behind her. "Someone's here for you."

"I'm clocked out," Maxie replied with the wave of a hand.

"I don't think he's here to eat," Liz replied.

Maxie turned to Liz and Liz raised an intrigued eyebrow. " _He's tall,_ " she mouthed.

Gnar, Maxie knew. She hadn't been back to his apartment since their argument. She barely even called. She simply didn't have the energy to fight. She didn't even have the energy to _make up_. Soon, they would be off, leaving every one of their mistakes, their sorrows, their regrets and insecurities behind them. Maxie would be free of Isaac, and then she could be free of the love she still felt encaged in. The lingering sting of hope would fade from even the deepest pit of her gut. The longing would subside to nothing. _She_ would be the one to forget. And then, she would be able to love Gnar.

But until then, she would stay with Bea.

With a sigh, she made her way to the front of the restaurant. She stopped short upon reaching the wide foyer. "Isaac!" Her heartbeat quickened upon seeing him, her blood began flowing faster through her veins. For a split second, she almost ran to him, threw her arms around him. She forced herself to take a breath and step back instead.

"Hi, Isaac," she said coolly.

He smirked. "Contain yourself," he said.

With a small grin, she admitted, "I'm happy to see you."

That wasn't what she was _supposed_ to say. She was supposed to ask what he wanted, what he was doing at her job. Maybe where he'd been the past week. But she was happy to see him. She was _elated_.

"Come on," he said, nodding toward his car. "Let's go for a ride."

He didn't wait for her to reply before he was walking to his car parked across the street. He must have known she would follow. She followed. "Where are we going?" she asked, climbing into the passenger seat, and finally, "Where have you been? Van only speaks to me to ask if I've heard from you. She's worried."

He looked at her. "Just Van?"

She exhaled, lowered her eyes. No, of course not _just_ _Van_. _Never_ just Van. "I've been worried," she said. "Where were you?"

Turning on his car, he said, "You'll see."

For a while they drove in silence, nothing but the low hum of the radio between them. But then, Maxie started to recognize the buildings surrounding them. She sat up. He turned down the street she expected him to. "Your old neighborhood?" she said. He turned into the parking lot she expected him to. "Your old _building_? Did you keep the apartment?" she cried.

He didn't need to answer her. He parked the car in his same spot, walked her through the same entrance. The doorman greeted Isaac as if he greeted him the same way every single night. "I can't believe you," Maxie said as they stepped onto the elevator. And yet, she felt inexplicably happier. Calmer. Safer.

Outside of Ohio, Isaac's apartment had been the only safe place.

It still looked exactly as it had the last time she'd seen it. Clean. Bare. Soulless. Except, of course, for the piece of her own soul that she had left there. She paused at the door and peered around. Isaac paused, too, only to watch her. She went in and slowly sat down at the edge of the couch. That was where she'd sat the first time he'd ever brought her there. He'd sat on the other end, his long limbs open and outstretched, silently summoning her into them.

It had been all she could do not to go to him.

When she turned her eyes up to him again, she was smiling. "I can't believe you," she repeated, and then laughed. She felt _giddy_.

"I guess this goes to show," he said, setting down on the arm of the armchair, "how sure I was about spending the rest of my life with Van."

Instantly, Maxie's smile faded. "Did you bring me all the way here just to say that?"

"That, yes," he said with a nod. "And to ask you if you were ever going to tell me that I was making a life-changing decision based on lies."

"Yes," she said. "And then no. Yes, when I'd thought it actually _had_ been based on lies. And then no, when I realized it was real this time. How you feel about her, I mean."

"It was never real—"

"Don't, Isaac."

"It wasn't real then, and it isn't now."

" _Don't_ ," she said sharply. "Look at me. Look who you're talking to. The one who knows you better than anyone. The one who knows what your love looks like better than _anyone_."

"And yet, you couldn't tell that I was _never_ in love with Van. I tried, believe me, I did. Maybe I even had myself convinced for a while, but Maximilienne. I could _never_ love Van."

She stood, shaking her head. "How many times are we going to have this conversation? I don't have the energy to speak, nor listen, to any more lies. So if you'll excuse me, I'll just be going."

"No," he said, stepping in her path. "I _won't_ excuse you. Not until you sufficiently explain to me what the _hell_ you were thinking? Me and Van? You and _Gnar_? You and Daniel fucking Gnar, huh?"

"Isaac—"

"Of all the people you could have turned to for comfort—"

"I didn't _turn_ to him. I just...turned. I turned, Isaac, and there he was. Everywhere, in every direction. There was you, falling in love with my best friend. You, who couldn't remember me. You, who I never really even had to begin with. And then there was Gnar. What did you want me to _do_?"

"Fight for me," he said. "For once in your life, fight for something you want. But of course, I guess I'm stupid to even think you capable of such a thing, aren't I? When have you _ever_ fought for me, or anything? It's always, 'Sure, I'll cook for you.' 'Of course, I'll serve you, too.' 'Waste four years of my life doing something I don't care about anymore? Whatever you say.' 'You like him? You want to marry him? Go ahead, take him—'"

"Stop it!" Maxie lashed out, giving him a hard shove. "Because you know who else always got exactly what they wanted from me? _You_. Van or no Van, Gnar or no Gnar, whenever you called, Isaac, I came. Whatever you wanted, I gave. Whatever I had was yours! Even now, you show up at my job and tell me to follow you, and here I am!"

"And up until the moment I got shot, what hadn't I given you, Maximilienne? Please remind me, because obviously _that_ part of my memory has yet to return."

Maxie inhaled sharply. "What did you say?"

"Loving you wasn't an ache, Maxie. It wasn't a pull. It was...a breeze," he said. "It was gravity. Natural and unyielding. Making love to you was like the first hit of the best drug, every time. Kissing you was like...payday." Before she knew it, he was standing in front of her, his face inches from her face. "The only pain in loving you was not being able to have you, Maximilienne. Everything else was bliss. _That_ is how it felt."

Maxie raised her hands to her mouth. She shook her head slowly, searching his face for the explanation her voice couldn't request. What was that in his eyes? Not the doubt she'd grown accustomed to seeing since he'd been shot. Not the suspicion or uncertainty. "Isaac," she choked out. "You _remember_?" He nodded once. "You remember..."

"Everything," he said. "I remember everything." And then she saw it. She saw _him_. The old Isaac, _her_ Isaac.

" _Isaac_ ," she breathed, reaching out to touch his face as tears blurred her vision. She quickly wiped them away before reaching for him again, but he quickly stepped back.

" _No_ ," he said. "Don't touch me."

"What?"

"What were you thinking?" he repeated. "Maximilienne, what were you thinking?"

She stood before him, breathless, her heart beating so fast, so furiously, she thought it would burst through her chest cavity and fall into her open hands. Her knees felt weak, the butterflies in her belly took flight, moved up her chest, fought to free themselves from the narrow passage of her throat.

"Isaac," she said, reaching for him again. She needed to lay her hands on him, she needed to _feel_ him. _Her_ Isaac, standing right in front of her. But he took another step back. " _Please_ ," she moaned.

"Answer me, because I need to know," he said. "I need to know in what parallel universe I ride off into the sunset with Van? In what parallel universe do you ride off with Daniel _fucking_ Gnar?"

Finally, she stopped trying to touch him. She had nothing. No words, certainly no explanation. How long had she denied herself the comfort of Gnar, fearing this very moment? Fearing when she would have to explain to Isaac how she fell for his best friend. Everyone had said she was a _fool_. "I thought..."

"You thought I was gone forever," he said quietly. She nodded. "I was never gone. Just lost. And I needed _you_ to come find me. But instead you left. You left me to wander, aimlessly—"

"No," she groaned.

"—to nearly be eaten by _wolves_!"

"I'm sorry," she choked out, taking a wavering step back. Suddenly she was so aware of every single one of her mistakes. It was as if they were all set out in front of her. Every wrong decision, every _what if_ , every _if only._ She dropped her face into her hands but, at last, he went to her and moved them. "Don't hide your face from me," he said. "Just tell me, _what_ were you _thinking_?"

"I was thinking I love you," she whispered. "And I didn't want you to be hurt again, because of me. Now everyone is hurt, but I _still_ love you."

He stared down at her, agonizing conflict in his eyes. His fingers tightened around her wrists, and then he kissed her. A tortured cry of relief escaped Maxie and she pressed herself to him. He jerked back, took her by the shoulders and gave her a firm shake. "I'm furious with you!" he hissed. But she could reply with only a breathless nod before his lips were pressed to hers again, and his hands were grabbing her, lifting her, squeezing her.

She sobbed over his face, into his open mouth, as he carried her to his bedroom and set her down and found his place in between her legs. "Isaac," she moaned, as he kissed her tear streaked cheeks, her moist lips, her throat, her neck, her chest. He tore her shirt open and kissed the tip of each of her breasts and the valley between them. "Isaac, I missed you so much."

"I was always here," he replied. "You just had to find me."

She cried more, happily and beseechingly. "I missed you so much," she repeated.

"I missed you, too, Maximilienne," he said. "Now stop crying, so I can show you just how much."

She didn't stop crying, but he showed her. He showed her thoroughly, right there where they lay. Her tears flowed with every kiss, every stroke, every caress. Every thrust, every moan. He rediscovered her, explored her, conquered her over and over again while she lay there giving him all of her to take. Had he been gone? She couldn't tell. He still knew every single secret, every single trick there was to her. He left no spot untouched, unkissed, unlicked. And she moaned. Moaned just like he liked, for as long as he liked. Loudly and desperately and longingly.

Had he been gone?

It was as if he he'd never left.

Maxie lay flat on Isaac's chest. She pressed her ear to his heart and shut her eyes to listen to the steady rhythm. "Do you remember when we went to get our tattoos?" she asked. Every question she'd asked him since they parted long enough to speak had started with _do you remember..._

"Yep. The entire ten minutes it took to finish yours, I was afraid you would pass out."

She chuckled. "Do you remember teaching me all of those dirty words in French, and telling me they meant something else so I would recite them in public?"

His chest rose and fell as he laughed. " _Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir_ ," he joked. She playfully slapped his chest.

"How about the time you came over and Van got home early from work? Do you remember that?"

"Mm hmm," he said. "I thought I could just hide in your room until she fell asleep."

"But then she asked if she could sleep in my bed."

"So I stayed in your bathroom for _four hours_ while she went _on and on_ about her day at work. I didn't think she would _ever_ fall asleep."

Maxie giggled. "You know what the craziest part of that night was?"

"What?"

"I was _so_ upset that she ruined it. More than I was scared of getting caught, I was disappointed that we couldn't have dinner together."

He kissed the top of her head. "Me, too, sweetheart."

"Do you remember all the time we spent by the lake in Ohio?"

"As if it was yesterday."

"How many kids do we want?"

"Five," he replied.

"Where do we want to get married?"

"At Jenny's house. By the lake in the spring. With no shoes on." He gently took her by the chin and raised her head to look at him. "Are you done quizzing me now? Have I proven myself? I _remember_ , Max."

"I just don't understand," she gushed. She felt as if she were overflowing, as if she would explode with happiness. "When did it happen? _How_?"

"Little by little, I suppose. And then all at once. It was sort of like remembering a dream you had weeks ago. I just _remembered._ Oh, no, don't start again," he said, feeling the telltale wetness of another tear on his chest.

"I won't," she promised, sitting up to look at him. "I'm just so happy, Isaac." She couldn't stop touching him, she was _afraid_ to. Afraid that if she took her hands off of him, all of their progress would miraculously be undone, or she would wake up from a dream and find herself in a dark kitchen with a cut hand.

His own hands stroked her. As softly as ever, they moved over her skin; her back, her arms, her neck. But Isaac's eyes remained drawn, his tone remained even. He was still upset with her, still battling himself, she knew. If only she could kiss away any doubts he had. She certainly tried; her lips barely left him.

"Where have you been staying?" he suddenly asked.

"Bea's," she said, then dropping her eyes, said, "and Gnar's. Bea's for the last few days, Gnar's for the last couple of weeks."

Isaac nodded. His eyes darkened. The wall between them grew thicker. _Kiss away his doubts. Another kiss and another kiss._ "I'm sorry," she said, feeling her emotions get away from her again. "Isaac. _Please_."

"How can I ever look at you the same?" he said. His words hit her like bullets. They ripped through her chest, incinerated her insides. "Why should I ever trust you?"

"Because. I'm me. And you're you. I'm Maxie and you're Isaac. We're _us_."

"We were always us."

Finally, she took her hands off of him. Shaking her head, she said, "No. We weren't."

For a day, they sat in silence.

Maxie cleaned the kitchen, Isaac watched television in the living room.

Maxie read a novel in the living room, Isaac lay down in the bedroom.

Maxie smoked by the window in the bedroom, Isaac made peanut butter sandwiches in the kitchen.

They came together only to make love; impassioned and desperate, heated and urgent, sometimes painful, most times furious, always thorough.

On the second evening, Maxie stood naked before the mirror and examined her body. Her backside was pink where his open palms had landed, black and blue marks decorated her thighs where'd held her, as if holding on to his own life. Purple and red marks were scattered about her neck and chest where he'd kissed her too long and too fervently. She was sore, aching, on both the inside and out, yet when she left the bathroom she crawled back into bed beside him, curled into him, stroked him to attention and let him take her again.

On the third day, Maxie lay beside Isaac, his arm limp across her, and looked into his placid face. He looked so peaceful she almost considered not asking him the question that was burning a hole through her. "Isaac," she whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Do you love her?"

He opened his eyes, raised them to her. "What?"

"Van," she clarified. "Are you in love with her?"

He let out a heavy sigh and said, "Yes. I love her." Maxie could feel her heart fold into itself. But then he said, "But no, I'm not _in_ love with her."

She exhaled. "Alright."

"Are you in love with Gnar?"

Even now, she wanted to say yes. She wanted so badly to be able to say she was capable of loving someone who wasn't Isaac. But it just wasn't true, and she had no more lies left inside of her. "No," she said.

He nodded once. "Alright."

"But I tried," she added quietly. "I tried to love him."

Isaac nodded again. "I know."

"How's your hand?" Isaac asked.

Her eyes were closed, her arms outstretched. Isaac's head rested on her pelvis. His fingers traced the small word just beside his face. _His_.

"It's fine," she said. "Like new."

Once in a while her palm still stung. Mostly when she dreamt.

"There was so much blood," he said.

Touching his head where the scar from his gunshot wound remained, she said, "I've seen worse."

"I've seen you faint over much less than a man shot in the head and bleeding out on your bedroom floor."

"Not just a man, Isaac," she said, stroking his face. " _You_."

"Me, then. How on earth did you keep yourself conscious?'

"For you," she said, "I'm capable of just about anything."

The fourth day was good.

"I have something to show you," Isaac said.

"Does this thing require that I move from this spot?"

"It does," he said. "It requires you put on clothes, too. Sadly."

She shook her head. "I think I'll pass."

"Fine. Come naked, then."

"No, I meant—"

"I know what you meant," he said, going to the bed and lifting her off of it. She groaned. "C'mon," he said. "Get dressed."

She put on one of his shirts and a pair of his underwear under it, though no one would see those as the shirt fell past her thighs. She didn't have a change of clothes of her own, not even panties, and she dreaded the thought of getting any. That would mean going to Gnar's. That would mean seeing Gnar. That would mean telling him he was right all along. Hurting him.

Another casualty.

Pushing Gnar's face from her thoughts, she followed Isaac out of his apartment and down to the small courtyard just off the lobby. They'd only sat out there twice, on the one bench facing what had once been a barren garden.

Now, that very same garden, which had been dried out and dead, the weeded corpse of something once beautiful, was nearly in full bloom. The bouquets of flowers, all types, all shapes and sizes and colors, were opening toward the sky. Maxie kneeled before it and stroked one of the silky petals. "Who planted them?" she asked.

"I did," he replied. "I found the bag of seeds a while back."

"You found..." Her voice trailed off as realization struck her. "Is this...?"

"Our garden," he said. "One flower for every time we made love. Out in the open, for everyone to see."

She turned back to the flowers, touched another, and another. _Their_ garden. It was _them_. Maxie fell back on her heels, so full of her own unyielding emotion, she felt as if she would implode.

"What made you plant them?" she asked. "Did you remember what they were for?"

"Not at the time," he said. "I don't know why. I just...I just _did_. That same day I found them, I came out here and planted them."

He kneeled beside her. "Of course," he added thickly, his mouth against her ear, "there wasn't enough room to plant _all_ of the seeds. I think we'll need a whole field for that."

"Two fields, after this weekend," she said.

He kissed her cheek, her neck, moved the shirt aside to kiss her shoulder. "Three fields," he said, carefully lowering her to the ground.

She peered around nervously as he lifted her shirt and lowered his lips to her breasts. "Isaac, wait," she said.

"Can't wait," he replied. He was already pulling his own underwear off of her.

"What if someone sees?" she asked, her eyes drifting downward as Isaac's mouth did the same.

"Let them see," he replied. "I want them to see."

The fifth day was bad.

"Has he called you?" he asked.

Maxie nodded. "Has she called you?"

Isaac nodded. "She hasn't stopped."

For a moment there was silence. Then Maxie said, "We'll have to face them eventually."

"Indeed," he said. "Indeed, we will."

Isaac watched her as she danced. They were in the garden, only half dressed, but she pranced back and forth before him as if they were the only ones in the world. "Have I lost my stride?" she asked.

"Oh, no," he said, his eyes in sync with every movement she made. But there was no awe present in his gaze. He wasn't admiring her, no. He was _studying_ her. She let him. She danced and let him watch her any way he pleased. Having his eyes on her at all was the only thing she cared about.

And then he said, "Have you been practicing?"

"You know I don't practice anymore. I mess around."

"Mess around for Gnar?"

Finally, she stopped dancing. "Sometimes, Isaac. And Bea. And Avery. Once for my coworkers."

"What else did you do for him?" he demanded, suddenly on his feet. Maxie, in turn, sank to the floor.

Shaking her head, she said, "You have more in common with Gnar than you think, you know. When I'm with him, he can only think of you. When I'm with you, you can only think of him—"

"Don't ever fucking compare me to him!" he barked, taking her by the arms and pulling her to her feet swiftly and easily. "I'm _nothing_ like him! And don't you dare stand here and act like I have no right to be upset!"

"Of course you do!" she fired back. "But you know what? So do I! Because for a year and a half, when you knew perfectly well what was what, you were fucking _my_ best friend!" She gave him a great shove that barely moved him, but it didn't deter her. "How many times did I watch you kiss her, right after you just finished kissing me?" Another shove. "How many times had you left my bed to go back to hers?" Another shove, this one much harder. "How long did you carry on with us both, like it was so hard for you?" By the last shove she was breathless.

"I did that for you! I did that because you _insisted_ —"

"Oh, and the great big man who can kill with his bare hands can't stand up to _me_."

"No, Maximilienne," he said. "When it comes to you, _I_ am the weak one."

She shook her head. "If you'd really wanted to end things with her, you would have. If you'd really wanted to tell her, you _would have_. So by all means, be upset about Gnar. But just know that it's your own fucking guilt that's really bothering you!"

He stood there without a reply, his shoulders squared, seething. Slowly, he said, "You know I wanted to end it with her. You _know_ I did."

Her shoulders rose and fell. "So did I. But I told you not to, anyway, didn't I? And you didn't, did you?"

"Did you sleep with him?"

With a heavy sigh, she shook her head. "No."

He grabbed her and gave her a firm jolt. "I don't believe you!"

"Hey!" someone called from behind them. Isaac glanced over his shoulder to find a man coming toward them. "What's going on here?"

"Courtyard's closed," Isaac replied, still clutching Maxie.

"Let go of her!"

Isaac obliged, and instead grabbed the wooden handle of a broken shovel that was discarded beside the garden. "I _said_ the courtyard is closed."

The man's eyes moved from the wooden pole and back up to Isaac's face before he took a step back. "I'm calling the police," he said, turning away.

Rolling his eyes as the man scurried off, Isaac dropped the pole and turned back to Maxie. "Jesus, Isaac," she mumbled. "We need to go."

"Answer my question."

"I _did_ answer your question."

"I want the truth."

"I gave you the truth."

"I don't believe you."

"What would you like me to do? Would you like me to tell you that I _did_ sleep with him? Will that make you feel better?" she demanded.

"If that's the truth," he replied.

"Well, it isn't," she said, opening her palms to him. "You _have_ the truth."

Again, his eyes studied her. Scrutinized her. Searched for all the answers he wanted in her features. "You've lied so much," he said.

"I've never lied to protect myself, Isaac," she said. "I've only ever lied to protect you."

He let out a great sigh, let his head fall back. She moved closer to him, rested her hands against his chest in the way that always soothed him, and turned her face up to his. "Look at me," she said. He did. "I have no lies left. I'm empty, Isaac. I'm completely empty."

When they got back into his apartment, he filled her. He filled her until she was overflowing, and even then, he filled her more.

The next morning, Maxie set Isaac's plate down in front of him before taking her own seat across the table. For a few minutes, they simply ate. Only the screech and clink of their forks scraping their plates occupied the silence between them. Then, without looking up, Isaac asked, "Do you want to move in?"

Maxie stopped chewing, swallowed hard. She tried to meet his gaze, but he kept it down on his plate. "Do you want me to?"

He didn't reply.

Later that evening, he made love to her. This time, he took his time, touched her softly, kissed her deeply, held her tightly, but not so tight she couldn't breathe his name, over and over. When it was all over, she felt renewed. Excited.

Hopeful.

He loved her. Even if he hated her for what she did, he loved her. That she knew, from every stroke, every caress, every embrace. She knew it from the seconds after, the seconds she wanted to live in, when they were both sinking from their peaks, and Isaac was still clutching her, burying his face in her skin, breathing heavily, sometimes murmuring.

As they lay in bed, Maxie on her belly, Isaac's cheek resting on the curve of the small of her back, he said, "Maximilienne. _Will_ you move in?"

"Yes," she said. "Of course I will."

#

On the sixth day, Isaac got dressed.

"We're going to get some clothes for you," he said.

"From Gnar's?"

"No. _You're_ never going back to Gnar's. Do you understand me? Consider that done. I hope your last goodbye was sufficient."

She lowered her eyes, unable to admit that it was anything _but_ sufficient. How could she tell Isaac that she _needed_ to see Gnar? At least one last time. She needed to apologize, to at least _try_ to make him understand. She needed him to know that she never meant to hurt him, that she truly _had_ cared for him.

Just not as much as she cared for Isaac. She didn't think she was _capable_ of caring for another man the way she cared for Isaac. She was _his_. Even with Gnar, she belonged to Isaac.

When they arrived at Bea's, she pulled her door open and her mouth fell agape. "I _knew_ it," she said. "I fucking _knew_ it."

"Knew _what_?" Maxie asked, moving past her friend and into the apartment.

"That you were with Isaac. Gnar stopped by the day before yesterday looking for you. I told him to check Charlie's, but I _knew_ you were with Isaac."

"Where she belongs," Isaac said. "We're here for her things."

"Gnar took your stuff," Bea said. "I mean, you may have a few things mixed in with mine, but Gnar has the bulk of it."

"Why did you let him take my bag?" Maxie demanded.

Bea shrugged. "I don't know, I figured you'd have to get the rest of your stuff from his place, anyway. It was taking up room."

Frowning, Maxie turned to Isaac. "Now what?"

"You stay here," he instructed. " _I'll_ go get your stuff."

"I'll go with you," she said.

"What did I say before?" he said. Dropping a short kiss on her temple, he added, "I won't be long."

When he turned to leave, she seized him by the arm and pulled him to a halt. "I know you're angry. And you have every right to be. But..." Did she have a right to make such a request as the one she was about to? "Don't hurt him."

Isaac exhaled. Hurting Gnar— _severely_ hurting Gnar—was at the very top of his agenda. He shook his head. "I don't think I can promise you that, Maxie. No."

She lowered her eyes. "For me, Isaac. Please."

He could see the anguish etched in her features, and it only further infuriated him. Made him want to hurt Gnar even worse. But, of course, before his own needs and desires, still came Maxie's. "Fine," he managed through clenched teeth. "Under the condition that you don't leave this apartment until I get back."

She nodded. "I promise."

Promising to return, Isaac slipped out of the apartment and headed toward the one place he'd been intending to visit since the moment his brain started working correctly again. Gnar's apartment. He barely finished knocking before the door swung open. Gnar recoiled when he saw it was Isaac who stood there.

"Where's Maxie?" he demanded.

"I'm not here to talk about Maxie," Isaac said, stepping past his old friend and into the apartment.

"Why do I find that hard to believe?" replied Gnar.

"Believe it. In fact, I'm here to give you something even better than Maxie."

Gnar shook his head. "Stop fucking around, alright? I'm sick of this. You _lost_. In all of your years of competing, you never learned how to bow out gracefully?"

Isaac shrugged. "Never had to."

"Well, I guess there's a first time for everything," Gnar spat.

"Maybe," said Isaac. "Though, I can't help but wonder if Maxie will still want to run away with you when she finds out you're the reason she was nearly raped last year."

Gnar staggered backward, as if Isaac's words physically hit him. "Wh-what?" he stammered.

"Don't tell me _you_ forgot," said Isaac. "How could you forget such an eventful morning? You almost got the girl you supposedly love assaulted. You almost got your oldest friend in the world killed—"

"You weren't supposed to be there," Gnar said, his voice low and coarse. "No one was supposed to be there. We _saw_ Van leave for work. And at that time, we had no idea Maxie was her roommate, or that you were sneaking around with her. We thought the apartment was empty."

"You were wrong," Isaac said. "And speaking of that night...Where's Eric?" Isaac peered around the apartment as if he expected Eric to emerge from a back room at any moment.

"Gone. Long gone."

Isaac nodded. "That's probably best. I promised Maxie I wouldn't hurt _you_. Eric, though..."

"He wasn't supposed to shoot you, Isaac. No one was supposed to get hurt. We thought we'd get in and get out. Then you came out of that room with a fucking pistol. He panicked."

Isaac let out a humorless chuckle. "Oh, I'm sure that's what it was. I'm sure Eric, of all people, didn't _want_ to shoot me in the head."

"He didn't think he had a choice."

"What about you?" Isaac asked. "Did _you_ have a choice?"

"Does Maxie know?" Gnar asked.

"I'm not here to talk about Maxie," Isaac repeated.

But Gnar pressed. "Does she _know_?"

"You think she'd give a fuck about how bad I'd hurt you if she did? _Only_ for her sake, not for yours, am I keeping my mouth shut about it. We both know what it would do to her if we told her—"

"Don't tell her," Gnar said.

"I won't. For now. But so help me God, if I ever see you near her again, I'm going to sing like a fucking canary. And then I'm _coming_ for you. And make sure you let Eric know that I'm coming for him, too. Wherever he's hiding, he better fucking stay there."

Isaac turned to leave and then stopped and turned back to Gnar. "Oh, yeah," he said, pulling a brown paper bag from his pocket. He tossed it to Gnar. "For your troubles."

"What's this?" Gnar asked.

"It's what you would have had me murdered for. It's yours now, alright? Leave, Daniel. Stay gone."

"Isaac," Gnar said. It seemed as if looking at Isaac in the eye brought him physical pain. Shaking his head, he said, "You weren't supposed to be there."

"That will be my excuse, too," said Isaac, "if I ever see you again."

* * *

"That's enough," Maxie said, taking the salt from Isaac's hand. They both stood over a pot of stew that Isaac prepared himself as Maxie looked on.

"What about black pepper?"

"You don't need black pepper. We put fresh peppers in."

"Maybe a little more black pepper? I like spicy."

"I know what you like," she said. "There's plenty of pepper."

"Why do I need to learn this again?"

"Because you can't live the rest of your life only knowing how to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches."

"Why not?" he asked. "I'll be married to a chef."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "You will, will you?"

"Yes. We're engaged already," he said, leaning down to taste his work so far.

Maxie raised an eyebrow. "So Van gets a fake proposal _and_ a real one, and all I get is an obligation to cook for you for the rest of our lives?"

With a heavy sigh, Isaac turned and lowered himself down on one knee. Maxie inhaled sharply as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. "Maximilienne," he said, gazing up at her as he took her hand. "I love you. You make me _so_ happy. I really just want to spend the rest of my life returning the favor. Will you marry me?"

Maxie glared at him as he slipped his mother's engagement ring onto her finger, and then she playfully swatted him. He laughed, moving out of her reach. "Isn't that how I asked _Van?_ "

"Don't make fun of her," she snapped, though she couldn't help but giggle.

He stood and pulled her against him. "Seriously, though, Max. I want you to wear it. And _don't_ take it off this time."

"I won't," she promised, gazing at it.

Turning back to the stove, Isaac dipped a spoon in the pot and then raised it to his mouth. "Mm," he said. "Not bad for my first try. I think I'll take some for lunch tomorrow."

Maxie frowned. "For _lunch_?"

"To work," he said.

"To _work_?"

He chuckled. "Is there an echo in here? Max, I have to go back to work. I haven't been in over a week."

"Neither have I," she said with a shrug. She didn't bother telling him she'd given her notice, and didn't ever have to go back if she didn't want to.

"As you know, with Gnar gone, there's no one to look after the gym. I _have_ to go."

"But if you go to the gym," she said, slipping her arms around his middle, "who will look after _me_?"

He groaned again, tearing himself away from her. "I _have_ to go. Why don't you spend the day with Bea?"

"Bea spends her time with Avery now."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "You sound jealous."

"I'm _not_ jealous. I'm no Van. I don't need Bea all to myself." Closing her arms around him again, she said, " _You're_ the only one I need all to myself."

He took his lower lip in between his teeth as he stared into her big, brown eyes. Slowly, shaking his head, he said, "I _have_ to go. How about Charlie? Go see Charlie."

" _Or_ ," she said, lowering her eyes, "I can go get the rest of my stuff from Gnar's."

"No."

"But Isaac—"

" _No_ ," he repeated. Flatly. Firmly. "I told you that I will go get your stuff, once I know for sure that's he gone."

"But I need clothes," she whined.

"I just bought you a dozen pairs of underwear—"

" _Clothes_ ," she said. "I'm sure he's gone, alright? He couldn't _wait_ to leave. I was the only thing stopping him, so I can't see why now, with me out of the picture, he wouldn't have just packed up and left."

"No, Maximilienne. Look at me. _No._ "

"Fine," she conceded with a sigh. "I won't go, but you're taking me shopping. Tomorrow. So I guess you can't go to work."

Before he could reply, a knock at the front door seized both of their attention. "Are you expecting someone?" Maxie asked.

"No," he replied, looking toward the living room. "Go in the room. Put some clothes on."

"I _have_ no clothes," she mumbled as she started out of the kitchen, but she disappeared into his bedroom, anyway.

Isaac pulled his gun from the side table as he crept quietly to the front door. If it was Gnar, or even Eric, back to finish what they started, Isaac was determined not to be the one leaving on a stretcher this time.

Except it was neither Gnar nor Eric that stood in the hallway, but Van instead. With a heavy sigh, Isaac pulled the door open. "Hey," she said, slightly wavering as she stepped past him. She looked a bit disheveled, her hair was slightly unkempt, her makeup was faded, her sweater hung off of her shoulder.

"Van," he said, reluctantly shutting the door behind her. "Have you been drinking?"

"I have," she admitted, peering around. With a chuckle, she added, "A _lot_."

He waited. Waited for her to yell at him. Cry. Accuse him of something. Anything but just _stand_ there, gaping at the place. "I spoke to Gnar yesterday," she said at last.

"Oh?"

"I haven't seen or heard from Maxie in a while and..." She paused to chuckle. "And I was actually _worried_. So I called him. Imagine my surprise when he told me he left already. _Without_ Maxie." She rocked slightly back and forth in her stilettos. Her words came from her mouth bitter and slurred. "Anyway, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out the rest." Motioning toward the apartment, she said, "Though this came as a bit of a shock. Like a slap in the face, really. You never got rid of it, huh?"

"No," he admitted.

She nodded. "Of course not. Well, I guess it's for the best. After all, you needed _somewhere_ to run off to with my best friend. What better place than the one you two had been using all along?"

Isaac didn't lower his eyes. Van could barely keep hers open. "What are you doing here, Van?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. Closure, I guess." Slowly, she let her sweater fall off her shoulders. "One more time?" she said with a broken laugh. She moved closer to him. "One more time for the road?"

He glanced at the bedroom door. Was Maxie listening? he wondered. Was she hearing this all? "Van," he said. "You're drunk. Why don't you go home and call me in the morning? Once we're all sober, in our right minds, we can talk about it."

"I don't want to talk," she said. "You know what I want. At least that part was real, right? You couldn't fake _that_." Her hand moved down his belly and over the front of his sweatpants.

"Van!" he said sharply, seizing her by the wrist. "Enough."

She staggered back, her eyebrows furrowed. "Why not? Is it because of _her_? By _her_ you want to do right?"

"Listen—"

"She doesn't have to know, okay?" She went to him again, pressed herself against him. "You know I'm better, Isaac. At this one thing, you _know_ I'm better—"

"Stop!" he barked, giving her a firm shove back. "You're making a fucking fool of yourself. You can barely stand up! I'm not doing _anything_ but calling you a fucking cab, alright?"

"Fuck you!" she shot back. "I don't need you to do anything for me! Believe me, you've done enough!"

"Then why are you _here_?"

"Because I deserve closure! I deserve to end this on _my_ terms!"

"Fine, then. End it, go ahead. If that'll make you feel better. Do what you need to do, Van, but then leave. Everything is out in the open now, so let's just stop pretending!"

"I was never pretending!" she cried, her face reddening as tears sprang forth. "I love you, Isaac. That's the only reason I lied. I knew that as long as _she_ was around, I would never have a fair chance. And obviously I was right! I just wanted you to see that you could love me, too. I'm sorry I lied but...but you _did_ love me!"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I tried to convince myself that I did. Because I _thought_ that's what I'd wanted before—"

"You didn't know what you wanted before! Because she was always standing in our way!" She shook her head. "I don't know how I didn't see. Everyone warned me, it was _so_ clear, so _obvious_. It was all over her face, every time she looked at you, every time she spoke to you. And I was just completely blind! Maybe if I'd opened my eyes, I would've seen exactly what she was doing. Maybe I could've stopped her before you fell for it!"

Isaac laughed a dry, humorless laugh. "What do you think? She seduced me? You think she forced herself on me?"

"I know she did," Van said. "It's what she always does."

"She didn't _force_ herself on me, Van. In fact, she did the opposite. _I'm_ the one who pursued _her_ —"

"No."

"— _I'm_ the one who seduced _her_."

"Fine," she said. "Fine. I'm with Alex now, anyway. Did you know that?"

" _Maxie's_ Alex?"

"No, _my_ Alex! You and Maxie aren't the only ones who know something about illicit affairs. So how about that?"

"Congratulations, then," Isaac said tiredly.

" _Fuck_ you. We're going to LA next month. He's going to get me a shoot with one of the top photographers in the business. The next time you see my face, it'll be on the cover of a fucking magazine."

He nodded. "Good for you."

"And you and Maxie can have each other. You're miserable. She's fucking miserable. You two can go get married and have ten miserable babies for all I care! You deserve each other!"

Pivoting and going to the bedroom, he replied, "I couldn't agree more." He threw the door open and, seizing Maxie by the arm, pulled her out into the living room. "You hear that, Max?" he said. "We officially have her blessing."

Van gasped, her mouth fell open. She looked from Maxie, to Isaac, and then back at Maxie.

He took Maxie's hand. "We're in love," he replied. "We have been, as you know, for a long time. So we're going to be together."

"Maxie," Van choked out.

"Watch him," Maxie said quietly. "While you're in LA, I mean. Alex is...a sneaky one. And don't let him drink too much. He's unpleasant when he drinks."

To Isaac, Van said, "Of all the girls. Why _her_?"

His shoulder rose and fell. "It was always her."

With a nod, she picked her sweater up from the floor. "Alright then." She turned and stumbled, barely catching herself against the front door. Maxie reached out to steady her, but Van only shoved her back violently. " _Don't touch me!_ " she screamed. Taking a deep breath, she said, "If I never see you again, it will be too soon."

And then she was gone.

Shutting the door, Maxie leaned back against it and slid to the floor. "I've officially proven myself to be exactly what she's secretly believed me to be all along."

"Then what difference does it make?"

She shrugged. Was this the closure Van had come seeking? Was this what closure felt like? "What were you hoping for, Max? Smiles and hugs? A congratulations?"

She lowered her eyes as tears threatened to come forth. Isaac crossed the room and lowered himself down beside her. "Alright, I'm sorry," he said, pulling her into his side. "She'll get over it, okay? She can't stay mad at you forever. Just give her time."

"No," she said, untangling herself from his embrace. "It's over. This time it's really over." She chuckled, shaking her head. "I feel like I've just signed divorce papers."

"Yeah?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "I feel like you've just escaped from your birdcage, Maxie. You're finally free. Where will you fly to first?"

* * *

Maxie knew she couldn't ignore Isaac's phone calls forever. As a matter of fact, she was sure that if she ignored them even a moment longer, he would leave his work at the gym and come looking for her. So with a deep breath, she answered. "Hi!"

"Where are you?" he demanded.

"Walking," she replied. "How's your day going? I'm making chicken in garlic sauce for dinner tonight—"

"Where are you headed?"

"Nowhere, really..."

"Maximilienne."

She sighed. "I just want to get the rest of my things, Isaac."

" _What did I tell you_?" he exploded. "I told you to wait for me! I told you _I_ would go get your things!"

"I don't see what the big deal is! Van said he left, right? I'll just be in and out."

She could hear Isaac's seething breaths through the phone. "Turn around right now," he said with surprising calm. "Stop walking, turn around, and get on the next train back to the apartment. As a matter of fact, hail a cab—"

"I don't want to go back to the apartment! I just want to get my stuff! And I _won't_ wait any longer for it just because you're worried about Gnar whisking me away!"

Isaac sighed. "What do you expect?"

"I expect you to trust me. You still trust me, don't you?" She'd been afraid to ask him before that moment. Afraid of what his answer would be. After all, what reason did he have to trust her? She was ashamed of herself already. She couldn't bear to hear him express his doubts about her out loud, though she was sure he carried them around with him.

A moment or so passed before he replied, and when he did, his voice was soft. "Of course I trust you. It's him that I don't trust."

She stopped walking. "Sometimes I'm afraid you've lost faith in me."

"Don't be stupid, Max. _All_ of my faith is in you. Now," he said, his tone hardening. "Have _faith_ that I will become extremely irrational if you don't turn around right now and go home."

She chuckled, looking up at the building in front of her. She was there already. What difference did it make now? "I'll call you when I get home," she replied.

"I'll be waiting."

She hung up and turned to the building again, taking a deep breath. She slowly made her way to Gnar's apartment and, with a racing heart, unlocked the door.

The emptiness was startling. Everything was gone. Every single thing.

She recalled the clocks on the wall, the art, the photographs. Gone. The furniture, every last piece of it, gone. All of his knickknacks, all of his collectables, his instruments, his gun collection, every single thing. _Gone_. There wasn't a trace of Gnar left in the whole place, not even his scent.

She clutched her hand to her heart. The place seemed so much bigger now. She tried to remember the way everything was before, but it seemed as if her memory never bothered to really store any of it because now it all seemed fuzzy, like a dream fading away after someone wakes.

He didn't even say goodbye.

Her heart ached as she tried to imagine how hurt he must have been to pack up and leave so abruptly. He hadn't even tried to call her. Not that she deserved his effort. She just wanted him to know that she was sorry. _So_ sorry. And maybe he never would. Maybe that was her punishment.

She felt unsettled in the large, empty space, so she hurried to pack up as much of her stuff as she could carry. She was kneeled in the bottom of the closet when the sound of the front door shutting made her sit up with a start.

She turned to the door, limbs frozen in fear. Who was that? Isaac? Coming to take her out of there himself?

"Daniel," she breathed.

His large frame appeared, occupying the whole doorway. She got to her feet, but remained by the closet. She couldn't read his expression. Was he angry to find her there? Happy to see her? Annoyed? She couldn't tell. "Daniel," she repeated, taking a small step forward.

"Maxie," he replied with a small nod. He didn't move from his spot in the doorway.

Swallowing hard, she said, "I came to get my stuff." He nodded again. "I was hoping..." She paused. Was she allowed to say what she was about to say? What would Isaac think if he heard her? "I'm glad you're here. I see you've moved everything out. Sold it all? Anyway, I was just afraid I wouldn't get to speak to you again." Still, he said nothing. His silence was _killing_ her. "Daniel, please."

"What would you like for me to say?" he finally asked.

She shrugged. "Anything. Tell me you hate me, I would prefer that over nothing."

He let out a humorless chuckle as he went into the room. "If only that were true. This would all be so much easier if that were true."

She dropped her eyes. "I'm so sorry." She was tired of saying it. Mostly because she was almost positive that everyone was tired of hearing it. "Isaac told me he spoke to you. It should have been me."

"Doesn't matter who it was."

"It should have been me," she repeated. He didn't object.

"Are you happy now, at least? _Really_ happy?"

She reddened and slapped her hands over her face, almost _ashamed_ of her happiness. Through all of the stress and the frustration and the sadness and the guilt, she was overflowing with happiness. Every time Isaac touched her, every time he spoke to her, every time he said her name, she thought she would explode from the sheer joy of having him again. "Yes. I'm happy," she admitted.

"Good," he said, emotionlessly. "I guess that's all I wanted, anyway."

"And you?" she asked. "What are you going to do now? Still going away?"

For the first time since he walked in, his eyes brightened a bit. "My flight is leaving tonight. The first stop is Mexico."

Maxie's heart felt light. She hugged him, glad for him. "That's great. That's really great, Daniel."

He nodded. "I want you to come with me."

A small gasp escaped her and she pulled away. His eyes were on her again, full and desperate. "I...I can't..."

"Had any of the time we spent together been real?" he asked. "Or have I always _just_ been Isaac's stand-in?"

"Don't say that, it was never like that." Lie. It was _always_ like that. From the day he stepped into the hospital, so tall and broad and handsome and charming, exactly like Isaac.

"Then give me a real chance, Maxie."

She shook her head. "He's back, Gnar. He's _back_."

Gnar nodded, as if he'd expected her to say as much. She was certain he had. "I always knew," he said, a hint of bitterness in his words.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Maybe after I'm gone, you'll realize you made a mistake." She shrugged. That wasn't likely, but for his sake, she didn't completely dismiss the idea. Not out loud, anyway. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a brown paper bag. "Give this to Isaac for me, will you?" he said, handing it to her.

She took it, gazing at it with uncertainty. "Alright."

"I'll be back," he promised. "If you _do_ change your mind, I'll be back for you."

"Oh, Gnar," she breathed.

"And if you ever find a reason to hate me..." He paused, as if his words got caught in his throat. Again, he looked away. "I'm sorry, Maxie. For everything. I never meant to hurt you. I've loved you since the very beginning. I never _ever_ meant for anything to happen to you."

"I couldn't hate you. _I'm_ the one—"

Her words were cut short again, this time by his mouth landing firmly on hers. The kiss was short, but forceful and passionate. When he pulled back, he curled his lips inward, as if sealing it away. "See you," he said, taking a step back. And as quickly as he'd appeared, he was gone again.

Maxie returned home just after Isaac. He was sitting at the table in silence, waiting for her in that way that made her feel like she was in trouble. Of course, she usually was. Only this time, _he_ was in trouble, too. When she entered, he was on his feet in an instant. Before he could speak, however, she thrust the paper bag at him. "I think this belongs to you," she said, pushing it against his chest.

He took it, dumbfounded, and watched as she stalked off into the room. A moment later, he joined her, holding the pocket watch in his hands. "You saw him."

She nodded. "I did."

"And...?"

"And he gave me that." She took a step toward him, glared at him. "You _bribed_ him?"

"I did what I had to do."

"I'm not some object, Isaac! I'm not your possession, up for barter!"

"He's leaving, Maxie. It worked, didn't it?"

She motioned toward the watch in Isaac's hand. "Obviously not."

He took a step closer to her. "I realize that you care about him. I see your guilt, I know that you're sorry. But you owe him _nothing_. You don't know him at all."

"What is it you're trying to tell me without telling me, Isaac? He said I might hate him one day. Why?" She was directly in front of him. Her hands were flat on his abdomen, her chin was raised to his face.

"He'll come back for you one day," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "You know he doesn't give up."

She smiled a small, comforting smile. "He'll be disappointed."

He kissed the crown of her head, stroked her hair, gently rocked her back and forth, but really, she didn't need any more comforting. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she felt so at ease, so at _peace_. Physically _lighter_. No more lies, no more secrets. No more hiding. It was _over_.

Then she looked up at Isaac. So impossibly handsome. So loving, so strong. His large body and his rough hands that touched her so softly. His full lips that kissed her so passionately. His confident, deep voice that whispered his love in her ear. He was _hers_.

Had she thought it was over? No, she decided. It was just beginning.

# EPILOGUE

"You got suspended from school?" Charlie asked, his eyes growing wide as he leaned down to get closer to Milla's seven-year-old grandson. The little boy was small and soft spoken, with round glasses that magnified the size of his eyes times three. Charlie turned his head so the little boy could quietly explain in his ear. "You what?... He _what_?" Charlie cried. His eyes grew even wider, he turned to look at the little boy again. "So did you win?" he whispered.

"Charlie!" Maxie snapped, nudging him.

" _Sh-h_!" Charlie hushed, raising a hand to quiet her. "You won, didn't you? They wouldn't have suspended you if you didn't. Good job, kid." He glanced both ways to make sure Milla wasn't in sight. "Listen. Your grandma will probably blow her fucking top when she hears about this, and I can't really do much about you being suspended. But for what it's worth, me and you don't have a problem here. I would've popped that little fucker one, myself, had I been there."

"Charlie!" Milla shrieked, rushing to him. "Are you cursing in front of the children? _Five_ dollars for the Swear Jar. C'mon, hand it over."

Groaning, Charlie reached in his pocket and pulled out a five dollar bill from his pocket. Milla took it and turned to her grandson. "Go get a cookie, Jacob. Forget all of the bad words Charlie used, alright?"

"Yes, grandma," the little boy said, rushing off to join his siblings and cousins in the kitchen.

Milla showed Maxie the five dollars. "You should see that Swear Jar, Max. I think we have enough cash in there to pay for the wedding!" she said with a laugh.

"Hey!" Charlie snapped. "It's not a wedding."

"But you're getting married, Charlie. Of course it's a wedding."

He shook his head. "We're fucking seventy years old, we don't _have_ weddings. All we're doing is agreeing to wipe each other's asses for the next ten years and signing some papers."

"Is _that_ all we're doing?" Milla snapped.

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright. It's a little more than that, but you know what I'm saying. What _you're_ having is a wedding," he said. "That thing in Ohio. By the lake. _That's_ a wedding."

"Maybe we should give _you_ the money from the Swear Jar," Milla suggested. "As a wedding present."

Maxie shook her head. "No, Milla, we couldn't. Just having you there is all we need."

"Well, that won't be a problem," she said. "We wouldn't miss it for the world."

Suddenly, a loud crash sounded from the kitchen, followed by all of Milla's and Charlie's grandkids scattering away from the crime scene. Charlie rolled his eyes, Milla rushed to find out what it was. Isaac emerged from the kitchen, holding a cookie. "Kids knocked over the candy bowl," he announced.

Charlie rolled his eyes again. "Fucking kids," he said, pushing himself out of his seat. Isaac helped him to his feet. "I guess I should go help out in there." Charlie made his way to the kitchen to assist Milla as Mr. Woodson ran by after his three-year-old son.

Isaac stuffed the last of the cookie in his mouth and reached for Maxie's hand. "I never ate sweets 'til I met you," he said, pulling her against him. He walked her to the middle of the floor where he held her and danced to the soft music that could barely be heard above the screams of all the children.

"One day, this will be our house," he whispered to her. "And all of our grandchildren, running around."

"One day," she agreed.

"Let's start trying for a baby right after the wedding," he said. "I want a little boy."

She chuckled. "Don't you want to wait a few years? Enjoy the married life first? I do. I want to enjoy you, and our house, and our lake. It's only been eight months. I want to enjoy our freedom for just a little while longer."

He leaned down and kissed her as if there was no one else in the room. She shut her eyes, leaned her head back, gladly accepted him. They didn't part until they heard the front door open, followed by Bea's voice. "Hey! Is this an engagement party or a daycare?" she cried, Avery behind her.

Milla emerged from the kitchen with open arms. "Well, _hello_!" she called, hugging Bea.

"Congratulations, Miss Milla," Bea said, reaching in her purse. "Look, I brought you and Charlie a gift."

She handed Milla two slips of paper. "A coupon for free His and Hers tattoos?" Milla cried.

Maxie laughed as she pulled away from Isaac to greet her friend. "You are too much," she said, embracing her as Isaac and Avery shook hands.

"She thinks if you can get married at seventy, you can get his and hers tattoos at seventy," Avery said, rolling his eyes. Bea giggled as she pulled back and poked her friend. "And _you_ getting married. I can hardly believe it. Are you guys going to have a double wedding, too?"

"With all of these kids?" Isaac said. "I like the chaos, but not on my wedding day. And especially," he said, draping his arms around Maxie's waist and leaning close to her ear. "Not on my wedding _night._ "

She giggled and playfully swatted his hand. "Well, I don't mean to ruin the evening with old news, but look what I found at a news stand today," Bea said, pulling a magazine from her bag. "Inside cover."

Maxie flipped the magazine open and her eyes widened. It was Van's smiling face, looking back at her from the ad on the inside cover of the magazine. Her hair looked thick and shiny, her skin flawless, her lips luscious in the blood red lipstick she wore. "She looks _amazing_ ," Maxie breathed.

"This is better than hand modeling," Isaac joked from over her shoulder.

"I bet Kathy is proud," Maxie said. She didn't bother admitting that _she_ was proud. Proud of her old friend, and sad that she couldn't be a part of it. She never imagined not being there to celebrate Van's first big break. Nor had she ever imagined Van wouldn't be there to celebrate her engagement.

"Oh, c'mon, Max, don't fret," Bea said, draping her hand over Maxie's shoulder and gently pulling her toward the hall. "Besides, that's nothing compared to what I'm _about_ to tell you."

Maxie's eyes widened. Bea glanced back to make sure they were out of earshot. "What?" Maxie asked hesitantly. She wasn't even sure she wanted to know. She'd just been able to stop thinking about Van recently.

"You'll never guess who I ran into in Union Square yesterday."

Raising an eyebrow, Maxie asked, "Who?"

Leaning forward and dropping her voice to a whisper, Bea said, " _Gnar_."

Maxie gasped. "He's _back_?"

"Just temporarily according to him. He was with a woman. A _beautiful_ woman with the most amazing British accent. Apparently they met in South Africa, where she was visiting her parents or something. Then they met again in London by chance and have been together ever since."

Maxie exhaled heavily, unable to keep from smiling. "That's so romantic. Wow, that's great. Did he look happy?"

"It's funny you say that, because he wanted to know the same about you."

"He asked about me?"

"You and Isaac and Van and everyone else. He wanted me to wish you the best, and he said he'd see you soon." Maxie paled. Shaking her head, Bea said, "I'm sure he meant it figuratively. He really did seem happy, Max."

Maxie nodded. "Good. I'm glad."

Suddenly Isaac was behind her, slipping his hands around her middle. "Hey, are you still talking about Van? C'mon, forget about that for now. Today we're celebrating."

"He's right," Bea said, taking the magazine. "Look at Milla and Charlie. Look at how sweet they are," she said, nodding toward the living room. Milla and Charlie were now standing in the same place Maxie and Isaac had just been, dancing slowly, staring into one another's eyes as the kids ran past them.

Maxie and Isaac joined them, and a moment later, the music went up. Maxie glanced up to find Mr. Woodson sitting in Charlie's chair, his two small sons on his lap as he watched his father dance. Beside him, on the sofa, were Milla's daughters and their kids, and across the room, Bea joined Avery on the floor. They all watched, silently, smiling.

"Who says we don't have family?" Isaac asked. "This family is as good as any."

"You think my father will be upset that Charlie gets to give me away _and_ be the best man?" Maxie asked. Isaac chuckled. "Once, when we were just out of high school, Van and I went into a bridal store and told the saleswoman that we were getting married. We must have tried on ten dresses each. And we modeled for each other, and we picked out the maid-of-honor dresses that the other would wear, and then we sat down and made a list of who would be in the rest of the wedding party. Van's wedding party was massive. Eight bridesmaids, plus me, eight groomsman, plus the best man, _two_ flower girls, _and_ the ring bearer."

"Wow," Isaac said. "What about you? Who was in your wedding party?"

She shook her head. "Mine was more like a wedding _get-together_. All I had was Van and one other girl that we were close with at the time. I _settled_ for the flower girl and ring bearer. I didn't have anyone to give me away. I definitely didn't have anyone to take me."

"Lucky for us, that problem is settled."

She nodded. "Lucky for _me_."

He pulled her even closer to him, held her tighter. "We're leaving for Ohio tomorrow morning. Do you remember the first time we left for Ohio?"

She closed her eyes, remembering. "Yes."

"Remember the agreement we had in the car, when we pulled over."

"That's not _exactly_ what I remember about us pulling over."

He laughed and kissed her temple. "We agreed," he said, "that as soon as we reached Ohio, nothing and no one else would exist. Not New York City, not Van—"

"Just us," she said.

He nodded. "Exactly. Just us, Maximilienne. Can we agree to those terms again?"

"Yes, please."

"Thank you."

She raised her face to him and let him press his lips to hers. "I love you, Isaac," she said.

"Tell me again."

"I love you, Isaac."

' _Maximilienne,'_ _Isaac says one evening. Van is working. They're alone in the apartment, they just finished dinner—Italian—and now they're lounging tiredly on the couch, wrapped in each other's arms. 'Do you know that last week marked the anniversary of the day we first met?'_

She nods and says, 'Mm hmm. Christmas.'

' _We didn't even celebrate our anniversary.'_

' _It was_ Christmas _. We were celebrating Christmas.'_

' _Well,' he says, getting to his feet. 'Let's celebrate tonight.'_

She smiles curiously as he goes to the kitchen and sifts through the liquor cabinet. When he reveals a bottle of champagne, Maxie sits up straight. 'We can't drink that!' she says. 'That's a two-hundred-dollar bottle of champagne.'

' _What better reason to drink a two-hundred-dollar bottle of champagne than in honor of our anniversary?'_

' _What will I tell Van when she asks what I drank it in honor of?'_

_Grabbing two glasses, he returns to the living room and sits beside her. 'Tell Van you drank it in honor or_ her _. Then she won't think twice about it.'_

Maxie giggles and watches as he pops it open and pours them both a glass. 'Wait,' he says. 'Don't drink it yet. Let's make a toast.'

' _To us?'_

' _And our love. And our anniversary. And to many, many more nights in front of the fire, and up on the roof, and many more years of happiness.'_

' _Secret happiness?' she asks, lowering her eyes._

' _No,' he says. 'Real happiness. Like the kind we had by the lake.'_

' _Oh. I get it,' she said with a dry chuckle. 'We're toasting to hopes and dreams.'_

Isaac shook his head. 'No, Maximilienne. We're toasting to a sure future.'

# ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thank you to everyone who believed in me and supported me through this project. You know who you are! Special thanks to everyone who took the time out to read first, second, and tenth drafts to give me feedback—I can't express my gratitude enough!

Last but never least, I'd like to thank my mom who continues to support of all my (sometimes crazy) projects and ideas. I couldn't have accomplished even half of what I've done if I didn't have you here, constantly rooting for me! I love you!

