“I need to get to work,” I tell him.
His eyes find mine, immobilizing me with their deep discontentment. “Before you go…” He hesitates, uncertainty slogging across his face before he says, “I want normal, you know? And I’m looking for it with you.” He steps nearer, bringing his evergreen scent with him, and I wonder when he’ll he grow tired of having this discussion. He clutches my waist and pulls me against him, so I can’t help but look at him and feel him and breathe him in. He’s strong enough to hold me in this space forever, if he wants to, but I’m relaxing in his arms, drowning in his sad, sad eyes. “I want you, Jill,” he murmurs, “but I don’t understand why you’d choose lying over the truth. Over me.”
He squeezes me to him, burying his face in my hair. My arms wind instinctively around his neck. Warmth blooms in my chest, trickling through my arms and into my hands, all the way to the tips of my fingers. He hasn’t initiated contact for days, and I can’t help but think …
This feels like a good-bye.
I have to fix this. My dad’s been there for me from the very beginning, but it’s Max who I can’t live without.
The realization sends my head spinning, as if the earth is tilting on its axis. I shiver.
He pulls back, eyeing me warily.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, blinking back tears. “I’m so sorry. I’ll talk to my dad. I’ll go to his office after work, before I come to Leo’s. I’ll tell him about us.”
“Really?”
“Really, Max. I’m done with secrets.”
He takes my face in his hands and kisses me, a long press of his mouth to mine. The tears that were tickling my throat a moment ago recede. I’ve missed this; I’ve missed him. When he pulls back, he’s wearing a hint of a smile, and I feel better than I have all week.
He strokes his calloused hands down my neck, his thumbs resting atop my pulse points, the heat of his palms bleeding into my skin. He presses a kiss to my forehead, and thanks to his slight movement, I catch sight of Ivy over his shoulder.
She’s standing ten feet away, watching us from beneath the fringe of her bangs. Her granite gaze meets mine. For an excruciating second, I think she’s going to confront us—confront me—but then her face unfurls, opening in comprehension, in a way I’ve never seen. It only lasts a second, our shared stare, and then she’s gathering her emotions and stowing them away, scurrying down the nearly empty hallway.
To find Becky, I suppose. To tell her everything.
I don’t even care.
Max becomes my center again, his stormy eyes, his warm palms, the persistent thudding of his heart against my ribs. He’s my quiet place, my well of happiness.
I reach up to cover his hands with mine. “Tonight, Max. I’ll tell my dad everything.”
*
The coffee shop is quiet when I walk in. Kyle’s mom, who looks up only briefly to smile in greeting, is counting out her cash drawer. Kyle’s restocking the small front refrigerator with dairy products. He doesn’t turn around as I tie on my apron and apologize for being a few minutes late. It isn’t until his mom’s headed out the door that he kicks the fridge closed and pivots to face me. He puts his hands on his hips and widens his stance, the way he does when he addresses his teammates on the football field. “You’re making Max miserable.”
“You talked to him?”
“I’ve been talking to him all week.” He pulls a broom out of the utility closet and whips it around our workspace. “You’re not being fair. Everyone has shit they keep quiet, but I thought you were beyond senseless drama.” He coaxes a pile of coffee grounds and dust bunnies into a dustpan. “I don’t know how much longer he’s gonna put up with you.”
I’m coming apart at the seams. My shift’s over in a couple of hours, and soon I’ll be face-to-face with my dad, admitting that I’ve done exactly what he told me to avoid, confessing that I’ve lied for months. He’s going to be so pissed, and who knows how he’ll cope? He could yell. He could threaten. He could pick a fight with Meredith.
Or he could call the Other Woman.
Bleakness sloshes over me. Kyle pushes the broom back into the closet, then comes my way, reaching out to steady me as I wobble on Jell-O legs.
“Jesus, Jill. What is it?”
I blurt out, “My dad’s been cheating on Meredith.”
He shakes his flaxen hair out of his face. His eyes are wide as pie plates. “Oh, shit.”
“She doesn’t know—not for sure—but still. Things at home are kind of awful.”
“I guess,” he says. “I’m really sorry, Jelly Bean. Wish I would’ve known.”
“Doesn’t matter—it’s no excuse for how unfair I’ve been to Max.”
He wraps an arm around me. “Why didn’t you tell me about your parents?”
“I don’t know. It’s not fun-to-share news. I didn’t want to bug you with my problems.”
“That’s bananas. The only thing you do that bugs me is hold your cards close. I want you to tell me what’s going on in your world. The good and the bad. That’s what friends do—confide, and support each other when things get rough.”
“In that case, there’s more,” I say, because it’s clear now: I need to be straightforward with the people I care about. I need to lean on them in the same ways I expect them to lean on me. And so, I tell Kyle, “I’m not going to the International Culinary Institute after I graduate. There’s no money for it. Meredith and her fertility treatments, the pregnancy, the baby … My school money paid for other things. More important things.” Saying this—meaning it sincerely—is like breaking the surface after being underwater too long. “But don’t worry—my True Brew paychecks will get me to New York eventually.”
Kyle kisses my cheek. “I have no doubt.”
A couple comes through the shop door, pushing a toddler in a stroller. She whines, straining against the buckle that keeps her seated while her parents stand opposite the counter, perusing the menu board like they don’t hear their child squealing. Kyle gives me an oh, hell eye roll, and despite the general crappiness of today, I smile.
“After work,” I tell him over the kid’s yowls, “I’m going to set things straight with my dad, and then when I get to Leo’s, I’m going to find Max, and everything will be perfect.”
34
KYLE SENDS ME ON MY WAY EARLY, promising to take care of closing duties so I’ll have plenty of time to talk to my dad. The evening’s dark, appropriate in its dreariness. It’s not far from True Brew to Dad’s office, and I have only a few minutes to rehearse my confession before I’ve arrived. Drawing a deep breath, I kill the engine and climb out of the car, giving myself zero time to rethink my reason for being here.
This is it—time to take control of my life.