That had been more than two weeks ago and Max was still no closer to finding Grace. His cell phone stayed infuriatingly quiet. Even though he’d asked his family and friends in Preston County to keep him up to date should Grace return, he’d slowly started to resign himself to the fact that he might never see her again, and that filled him with a profound hopelessness.
To divert his attention away from the hollow ache that had taken up residency in his chest, Max threw himself back into work, arriving at the shop bright and early every day and staying until late at night. He also decided to move back into his own apartment. He knew Carter stressed about Max being on his own, but truthfully, he needed the space to think and, with the wedding mere weeks away, he knew Carter and Kat didn’t need him under their feet. He attended his meetings and continued his running, all the while wondering what Grace was doing, who she was with, and whether she thought of him at all.
The only silver lining amid the bullshit was that, since he’d said good-bye to Lizzie, the urge to go out and get high and shitfaced had lessened, changing from an all-out shout to a mere whisper. Max knew he’d done enough damage to let everyone down again with a damn relapse, and when he wasn’t working, running, or attending meetings, Max would recall, unashamedly, the disappointment on Grace’s face when he’d gotten drunk that night at the bar. Right or wrong, that shit always took the potency right out of his cravings.
It was after a long, hard day at the shop and Max was lounging on his sofa, eating pizza, and watching a shitty horror movie when there was a knock on the door. Curious and not expecting anyone, Max threw the pizza crust into the box and padded through his apartment.
He peered through the peephole and quickly opened the door. “Hey, man. You okay?”
Riley smiled. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Come in.” Max stepped to the side, allowing him to enter. As pleasant a surprise as it was to see Riley, it was also unusual. Ordinarily, he would announce his impending arrival with either a phone call or a text. Max had received neither. “Can I get you something? I don’t have alcohol, obviously, but I have juice, water, coffee.”
Riley shook his head. “No, brother, I’m fine. I won’t stay long.”
Max frowned. “Sounds ominous.”
Riley smiled again but this time it fell quickly. He pushed his hands into his pockets while his gaze wandered from the floor to a spot over Max’s shoulder and back again.
Max took a step closer. “How was your day off? You all right?”
“I um . . . I have something for you, but I wanted to say a couple of things first.”
Max nodded slowly. “Okay. Shoot.”
Riley exhaled heavily. “I know what it’s like,” he murmured toward his shoes.
“You know what what’s like, man?”
Riley’s hazel stare found Max. “I know what it’s like to lose the woman you love.”
Thinking he was joking, the beginning of a laugh and an inappropriate comment pulled at Max’s mouth, but it quickly fizzled out in his throat. From the expression on Riley’s face, he was deadly serious.
“What? Love? How—you . . . you?” Max wasn’t trying to be purposefully obtuse or mean, but Riley, in the almost ten years of their friendship, had never mentioned loving anything other than cars and one-night stands.
Riley breathed a despondent laugh. “Yeah, me.” He rubbed a hand across his trimmed beard and sighed. “It’s a long story, one that very few people know about, but . . . yeah.” He shrugged. “I know people think I’m just some knuckleheaded womanizer who doesn’t give a shit, and it’s partly true, but there was a time when I wasn’t, when I did give a shit about . . . someone.”
Max shook his head. Seeing his friend so solemn, so uncharacteristically serious was more than a little unnerving. “Why . . . how did we not— Why didn’t you say something?”
Riley gave a wry smile. “And shatter the illusion?” He cleared his throat. “Besides, I’ve no one to blame but myself.” He furrowed his brow. “And it’s ancient history.”
Max wasn’t entirely sure that was the truth, but he nodded to appease him.
“To get a second chance like this doesn’t happen for many, Max.”
“I know.”
“A guy dropped by the shop yesterday while you were at your meeting with Elliot,” Riley continued. “Dropped off a sweet ’67 Mustang for an oil change. We got to talkin’. Turns out he owns some gallery space uptown. It’s kind of a hobby of his, you know, helping young talent in the area to get noticed.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a crumpled flyer. “He invited me to a photography and art show he’s hosting there this weekend and, well, let’s face it, Carter’s ugly ass doesn’t look as good in a suit as you do. So I wondered if you’d be my date.”
He handed the flyer to Max, who was, despite his confusion, chuckling. He took the flyer sensing that he was missing something. He looked down at it and his mouth dropped open. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah. I thought that’s what you’d say.”