She was the older sister, the one who figured out everyone else’s problems. Her life always went as planned; esthetician school, find a nice guy, get engaged, get married, and then have babies for her siblings to spoil.
At least she’d made it to the third phase—even had invitations printed out. But she never expected they’d still be in a box in her closet. Maxine never planned on that.
Of course, she never planned on Antony, either. Or to be suddenly craving sex. But it wasn’t just the physical attraction she felt when she was with him. He thought she was sexy as hell. Still, he had never seen her naked, something Maxine had made sure of.
Johnny had always insisted on doing it with the lights off. She’d thought he was just shy—until she walked in on him completely naked with another woman, on her bed, and in full daylight.
Maxine took a quick breath in through her nose. The nauseous twist that used to make her double over hadn’t gone away, even after all these months. She counted to ten, forcing the image out of her mind.
“…bachelor auction?” Crosby’s voice broke through. “You promised to help out next month.”
“Ouch!” Maxine rubbed her upper arm. She shot Crosby an accusing stare. “That was a hard pinch.”
“I was trying to kick your ass off memory lane in Johnnyville.”
“I was thinking about Carmine,” she lied. “I’m going to the shop this afternoon. I’m worried if I’m late he’ll try and move some boxes and have a heart attack or something.”
In her panic last night, she’d called Carmine, hoping he could put a spin on the situation for her. “Who cares if it’s love or lust?” he’d said. “As long as this Frenchman is kind and goes down on you on a regular basis. That’s all that matters.”
“But what if all this backfires?” Maxine had asked.
She was lying flat on her bed, staring at the ceiling as if the answer would be written in the spider web cracks in the paint. “What are the rules? Do we keep meeting up to make-out?”
He laughed himself breathless. He coughed a bit, then cleared his throat. “Meeting up to make-out is what dating in the beginning is all about.”
Staying quiet, Maxine wasn’t so sure. There were never any of those frantic early days with Johnny, or even later, when they had to have each other no matter where they were.
Now, watching Rose grab her jacket off the chair, she was no closer to knowing what she wanted to happen. Rose said, “I’ll drop you off at Carmine’s.”
The three of them piled into Rose’s car. Maxine couldn’t help but notice both nobs on the radio had broken off. “When did that happen?” she asked.
Rose gave her a funny look. “Last year.” “Why don’t you get it fixed?”
“I don’t care if I have a radio.” She started the car and headed east toward Kincourt Street.
Crosby was bundled up in the backseat. “I hate the cold,” she shivered. “Can I skip the widow bit and move to Florida now?”
To Maxine’s relief Rose and Crosby began discussing their baby brother, taking the attention off her. “He hates his boss,” Crosby said. “He does nothing but take selfies with all the celebrities who come into the store. Westley said he doesn’t even know how to ring in a sale.”
Rose turned on her blinker and changed lanes. “A good manager manages the staff,” she said. “Not the customers.”
“All the staff hate him, too. Westley is convinced he’s stealing merchandise.”
“Seriously? That can’t be ignored. Westley has to report him!” Rose replied.
A buzz from Maxine’s purse made her jump. With a shaking hand, she slipped it out and read the caller ID.
Ace.
****
Despite being in the car, Antony pulled the field coat around him as he pressed the cell phone to his ear. The number kept ringing, then finally it went to voice mail.
“Hi there, this is Maxine,” her tone was bright but even. “Leave me a message and I’ll be in touch.”
He hung up and stared out the windshield. The clock on the dashboard blinked back at him, it was mid- day. He yawned and closed his eyes.
With Maxine spilling into his every thought, he hardly slept last night. Unable to shake it off, he’d gotten up early, gone to the gym and spent the rest of the morning arguing with Marc about which caregiver
to hire. It was moot, actually. Marc could stay on his own. There were enough assistive devices in the apartment, and Marc did have amazing upper body strength to transport himself in and out of the shower and into bed. He only needed to have someone check on him once a day, make sure he took his meds, did his exercises, ate a meal…not drink and watch hockey all day.
“When does Sasha get back?” Marc was in the kitchen while Antony stared at his laptop on the dining table.
“Next week.” Antony ran a hand over his face, feeling the new stubble. He’d forgotten to shave in the shower. “You need to decide so we can line someone up before I go.”
Marc went to the fridge. “This wouldn’t be problem if you organized someone when you got your schedule in September.” There was the clink of a glass on the counter.
“I did,” Antony felt the muscle in his jaw tighten. “But you fired her.”
“The bad breath one?” “Oui.”
It continued until Antony at last found a caregiver who Marc didn’t despise. Antony knew he was enabling him, but it had gone on for too long and there always seemed to be a reason to keep the status quo. Marc should have started his own life by now, and Antony had initially thought he’d find something to do in Toronto, or if he didn’t he would at least move back home, closer to their parents. But he didn’t. He was attached to Antony at the hip, it seemed.
Antony grabbed his keys and said he’d be gone for a few hours. He ended up circling Maxine’s apartment building until he’d found the first spot and parked. A silent debate began. He imagined a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other, battling to own his conscience.
Call her. Forget about her.
Go up to her apartment. Drive Away. Seduce her. Love her.
Tell her the truth. Keep lying to her. Kiss her. Use her.
Flatter her. Leave her.
“Shit,” he whispered in the car.
He wanted to see Maxine, he knew that for certain.