“We’ll talk in the morning,” I promised for we would, he just probably didn’t know what I was going to say.
“Baby,” he whispered his advice, “don’t sleep on what’s tearin’ you up inside.”
“Nothing’s tearing me up inside,” I lied yet again.
“Duchess –”
“Max, please, it’s late, I’ve had too much to drink, a crazy day, a crazy week and I’m just tired. Can’t you just hold me and let me sleep?”
At my request that he hold me, I felt his body relax into mine but he asked, “We’ll talk in the morning?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll actually talk to me in the morning?”
“I said I would.”
“None of this shit about not askin’ questions when you think I don’t wanna answer. We’ll actually talk.”
I swallowed, wondering why he remembered everything then promised, “Yes, Max, we’ll talk.”
Max fell silent. I forced my body to relax. After awhile, he called my name on a whisper.
“Nina.”
“Yes.”
His arm got tight and he pressed his body to mine.
“Baby, that path you were on…?” he asked but said no more.
“Yes?” I prompted.
“Until you showed in that snowstorm, I was on it too.”
Oh my God. Torture.
“Sleep, Max,” I urged him but I could hear my voice clogged with tears I could not let flow.
“Forgot about this,” he muttered into my hair.
“Sorry?”
“Forgot,” he repeated.
“Forgot?”
“Forgot about carin’ about someone so much you would do everything in your power to stop them havin’ pain.”
No. Not torture. Pure bloody torture.
“Max –”
“And how fuckin’ shitty it feels when there’s nothin’ you can do to stop it.”
“I’ll be okay,” I whispered yet another lie for I wouldn’t, not ever, not ever again or, at least, not until I found someone who thought I was their world.
If that happened.
“Yeah?”
“Yes, Max. So will you.”
He fell silent again. I waited. Then I waited longer.
Then I moved my arm to drape it on his, I laced my fingers through his and I whispered, “’Night, Max.”
He shoved his face in my hair, his fingers tightened in mine and he muttered, “’Night, Duchess.”
For a long time I didn’t sleep and I knew neither did Max.
Then slowly the impossible happened and sleep claimed me.
Chapter Eleven
Not if You’re the Only One Fightin’
I woke up to the bright Colorado sunshine, complete memory of my heart-wrenching night before and an empty bed. I got up on my hand, pulling my hair out of my face and listened to the house.
Nothing.
I started to look down toward Max’s pillow but caught sight of the note on his nightstand covering the clock.
I scooted across the bed and grabbed the note.
Duchess,
Had to go into town, be back as soon as I can. Coffee’s made, just flip the switch.
When I get home, we’ll talk.
Max
I looked at the clock and saw it was nearly nine. I’d slept in and, while doing it, as normal, I slept deep. I didn’t feel him leave me.
I got out of bed, went to the bathroom, did my morning business and went downstairs to flip on the coffee. I went back upstairs and took a shower. Then I wrapped up in my robe and went downstairs to get a mug of coffee. I took it upstairs and went to the closet, grabbed my clothes, went to the dresser, grabbed my undies and went back to the bathroom. I did my makeup then dressed, hooking my robe on the back of the door. Then I did my hair.
What I didn’t do was think. I’d have to do that soon enough.
When I was done with my hair, I turned off the blow dryer and my hand froze in its descent to set the dryer on the basin because I heard my recorded voice.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
“And, you also get what it’s like to have Shauna involved, seeing as she was after my man and she’s after yours too.”
“I’m not sure Max is my man.”
I set the dyer on the counter silently as the next words in Bitsy and my recorded phone conversation from days before drifted up to me.
“Oh he is. Never seen him like that with anyone except Anna. The whole town’s talkin’ about it. We’re all real glad. Thought Max’d never find anyone after Anna died. It’s been ten years, that’s a long time. Lord knows, I know that.”
“Bitsy –”
“Brody told me all you’ve done with Mindy and I gotta say, I’m glad you’re nice. Anna was my best friend and I loved her. She’d want Max to end up with someone nice.”
“I don’t know what to say. Um… thank you.”
“Thank me for you bein’ nice?”
“Yes, I guess, and thank you for trusting me to talk to.”
I walked woodenly out of the bathroom and across the room as the voices kept drifting up, relentless, the entire conversation.
I went to the stairs and wound my way down, my head moving, my neck twisting as I went so I could watch Max standing still as a statue staring at the answering machine.