“That was one time.”
“What about that hot Russian guy who asked you out and you refused because he didn’t have any social media accounts which apparently proved he was a sex offender?”
“He had creepy eyebrows.”
“Fine. Stay in bed eating toast and making excuses. For the record, I’m glad Max helped us.”
“Hmph.”
“You love him,” Tiff said bluntly. “I know you love him.”
“You do not.”
Tiff sighed. “I found something ages ago. I’m emailing it to you now.” Julia’s phone pinged. “I really hope you work things out with this guy, Bennett. Talk soon.”
Tiff hung up, leaving Julia in cotton-covered darkness. She opened the document Tiff had sent and looked at it for a long, long time.
The sun was setting when she grabbed her keys and headed out the door. She drove onto the freeway and into the suburbs. Max lived in a nice neighborhood, the kind of place where well-off couples went to raise children and have polite, monogamous sex. His place was the first one on the block, his Range Rover parked right out front. Julia pulled up to the curb, attempted to turn off the engine, and found herself taking off again. She went to the nearest drive-through and ordered an enormous soft drink, came back to Max’s house and drank. Twenty minutes passed and she finally needed to pee badly enough to take action. Leave or stay? Leave or stay? It had been much easier when Max’s marriage and his issues with their age difference had kept them apart. That way she hadn’t had to offer things she wasn’t ready to give. Didn’t need to fear that he would grow bored or be put off by how weird she was. Julia pulled out the copy of Tiff’s e-mail from her pocket and stared at it. How long was she going to put off what she knew in her heart to be true?
If Max could cut off his wedding ring, surely she could do this?
Julia got out of the car. She walked past Max’s shining letterbox and neatly groomed rose bushes, steeling herself for what would come next. His doorbell rang with a loud metallicbrrringand she completely lost her nerve. Unfortunately, before she could find a non-thorny bush to hide behind, a huge guy with an auburn beard appeared. “Hello there. Can I help you?”
The jig was up. Julia stood up straight. “Uh, hi? I’m here to see Max Connor?”
The big guy beamed. “You must be The Jules.” He leaned back and whistled. “I can see why Max is all bent out of shape over you.”
He turned his head and bellowed down the corridor. “Maxie, your lady’s here.”
This had to be Max’s roommate Dean, he looked like a sixteen-year-old stuffed inside a giant’s body.
Dean turned to her. “I think Max’s in the shower. You want to come in and wait?”
“Yeah. I drank about three liters of Coke on the way here.”
He laughed and swung the front door wide open. “Bathroom’s on the left. Come hang out with me when you’re done. I’m Dean, by the way. I live here.”
“From what Max told me, it’s more like squatting.”
“What are friends for if not to show up unexpectedly and take over your house?”
Julia used the guest bathroom, amazed by the sheer absence of dog hair, and emerged to find Dean on the leather couch in front of the TV playing Call of Duty. She must have been staring longingly at the screen because Dean pressed pause. “Max said you were into games. You ever play this?”
“Do I ever play this? Give me a controller.”
“You’re on.”
Jules joined the game. Normally she would have held back but this was Max’s house and Max’s roommate and whatever the outcome of their relationship talk was, she had no intention of being regarded as a soft touch when it came to Call of Duty. Dean took his consecutive beatings relatively well, changing his weapons and insisting he was going to win next time.
“You’re lucky Max takes longer in the shower than any man on earth,” Dean said as he wildly mashed buttons. “Because I’m gonna beat you.”
Julia shot him in the face for the umpteenth time. “Sure you are, sweetheart.”
Dean swore. “Unbelievable. Anyway, Max says you have a sister. She look much like you or…?”
Julia gave him a look.
“Hey, just planting seeds. Can’t blame a guy for trying. She into Call of Duty?”