“I didn’t mean for it to be used that way,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you for saying that,” Kelsey says. “I do appreciate it.” The way she says it, though, there is a but in there. She appreciates it, but…
Sweat prickles along my spine.
“I mean it,” Max says. “And I think sorry isn’t enough. I’m thinking about doing a new edition. I talked to my publisher and they’ll go for it if I write it. I can encourage guys to be confident and interesting without being fake.”
“You’re thinking about doing a new edition?” Jada sounds intrigued.
Kelsey’s not so sure. She turns to her most hated section. More beers come.
He’s genuinely sorry—they can all see that. But I want more. I want my friends to see the vulnerable, passionate, brilliant guy I see. I want them to see the Max who knows every word to every song of Hair and secretly loves teaching piano lessons. I want them to see the creative, thoughtful man, not the Max Hilton of Ferraris and zillion-dollar watches and devil-may-care liquor carts.
“There’s something you’re not saying,” he says.
Kelsey gives me an apologetic look, then turns to Max. “It’s not just about my experience; in fact that’s the least of it. Because I’ll own right now that I had a part in what happened with Nathan—your book helped get him in the door, but it was on me to see him for what he was. To not be blinded by his looks. But here’s the thing—I got burned by a guy who read your book. He only read it. You wrote it. You put down every single one of those words. How can I trust you to be good to Mia when this is the way you were directing guys to behave? People change, but do they really? Or do they just get better at hiding shit? So if you think I’m not saying something…that’s it.”
“He’s not that guy,” I protest. “You need to give me a little credit here, Kelsey.”
Max settles his hand over mine. “I’m going to prove you guys wrong,” he says.
“I want you to,” Kelsey says, raising her beer. “To you, proving me wrong.”
“He’s gonna,” I say.
We all clink glasses. Somebody new comes by to congratulate Jada, but it doesn’t break the tension. I’m staring down the barrel of a reality where my friends tolerate my boyfriend, but secretly hope we break up. Because they don’t trust him with my heart.
I drink my beer, but I barely taste it. I give Max a nervous smile. It was good that he tried. A standup thing to do. And there is the new edition. I suppose all he can do is prove them wrong.
“I’m curious about your pickup system,” Lizzie says after Jada’s well-wisher leaves. “How did you develop it? How did you know what would work? You were twenty years old without much experience dating from the sound of it. Was there some sort of testing protocol?”
I try not to stare daggers at Lizzie. I really, really wanted this topic to be over.
Max is toying with his napkin. Like he doesn’t want to say something. So of course, everybody’s attention is riveted on him. “I was…on the other end of it, in a way,” he says.
“The system?” I sit up.
“What does that mean?” Kelsey asks. “A woman did a system on you?”
“It wasn’t a system, not anything anybody was consciously doing. It was just…observing the effect of her on me.”
I frown. Who the hell is he talking about? I so don’t want Max talking about an old crush on top of everything else. “I’ve had enough of this topic,” I say.
“I haven’t!” Jada says. “I want to know.”
My cheeks heat. I want everyone to stop talking.
“She was playful and outrageous,” Max says. “A little bit bossy. And so goddamn beautiful, it killed me.”
Antonio frowns, not loving the sound of this. I grit my teeth. What is Max doing? He would talk about some past crush at a time like this?
“She was a force of nature,” Max continues. “And the outrageous things she’d do. With every little thing she did, I’d just want her more. She dressed so brightly when I first met her. Loud colors and metallics.”
Kelsey listens, rapt. “The alpha-signaling.”
Jada exchanges glances with Lizzie.
“Yup,” Max said. “Like she was anointing herself. Choosing herself.” Max looks over at me.
Something in my belly turns upside down. What?
“She was the bravest, boldest woman I’d ever met,” he continues. “She came up poor; she wasn’t supposed to even leave her tiny town, but she set her sights high, believed in herself when nobody else would. She’d literally bulldoze you with her reality. And god, the stories she would tell!”
I stare at him, stunned. “What are you doing?”
“We started out enemies, but one summer we did this musical together, and it was the best summer of my life. But I screwed it up, and we were enemies again. Even so, I’d sneak into Miedlow Hall and listen to her sing. I couldn’t stay away from her. I loved her.”
“What?” My voice sounds hoarse, like it’s coming from somewhere else. I feel like everything I ever knew has been turned upside down.
“When I left high school, I was sure I’d lost my chance at love. I wrote the book.”
“Love ruins a man. Just walk away,” Antonio quotes.
I’m trembling inside. “Max?”
“It was easy to go hard.” The way he looks at me, I think his entire soul is there in his eyes. “They say cynics are just disillusioned idealists. Writers of pickup books are just heartbroken romantics.”
I’m blindsided.
“Jesus Christ!” Kelsey says. “It was Mia.”
Antonio gazes into the middle distance. “He wrote it because he couldn’t have Mia. His heart was broken in pieces. So he goes off to warn other men. Never pursue a woman you can’t walk away from. Never fall in love.”
“Max,” I whisper hoarsely.
Max presses his hand over mine. “I just love you, that’s all. I’m not saying that so you say it back. In fact, I don’t want that right now, but Lizzie asked how I came up with the system.”
There’s no sound at the table. Everybody’s staring at me now—I feel their eyes on me, but all I can see is him.
“Excuse me, Max Hilton?”