“And so do all those other women.” Crosby reached inside the bag, taking another handful of pretzel sticks.
“Listen,” Rose said, “you can’t be with Antony and then expect the world to stop noticing how hot he is. It’s like having your cake and eating it too.”
“Is this based on your vast knowledge of celebrity dating?” Maxine said, slightly annoyed at her little sister’s pious attitude. “Besides, I don’t want cake; I only want a brownie…and monogamous sex with Antony.”
Rose sighed, sounding just like their mother. “He’s giving you that now. Don’t make this about Johnny.”
“Truly, he’s taken too much from you already,” Crosby added.
“I hadn’t even thought about him,” Maxine admitted. The wedding invitations were now back in the box and shoved under the bed, except for the flashcards Antony had made, she kept those in her bedside table. Jesus, I’ve traded one obsession for another.
Crosby stood up and put her arm around Maxine. “Love is about throwing it all up in the air and seeing what you can catch. Take a chance!”
Maxine frowned and said, “Easy for you to say, you’re trying to get on a show to fall in love with a stranger.”
“Every stranger is a potential lover, stupid.” “You sound like Carmine.”
Rose started to pack up her notepad and things. “I think you should stick to your plan; wait until he comes back from Philadelphia and see how you feel.”
Later, Maxine was at the spa prepping her room for her afternoon clients. Three facials, four waxings, and a spa signature manicure. She needed to be at work today, her mind had to focus on something other than Antony. She couldn’t shake the feeling he would crush her heart in the end, and the devastation would be complete, making her split with Johnny seem frivolous. During her break, she called the one person whose advice always made her feel better. But when he answered, Carmine’s voice did nothing to ease Maxine’s stress.
“You sound terrible,” she said, as his breath wheezed over the phone.
“Only a bad cold, honey.”
When she told him about Antony’s identity he said, “Nicely done. But you can’t figure this one out with a list of pros and cons. In matters of the heart, the brain is useless. I’ll say what I always say, go for the right fit, anything else is a waste of your time.” Then he laughed, brining on a round of wet coughs.
Maxine winced. “Can I bring you anything?”
“No. I kept the store closed today. I’m staying in bed having gin and watching Cabaret.”
“Get better,” she said. “And thanks, Carmine.” “Love you, honey.”
“Love you, too.”
When Maxine was finished with her last client, an ache had started between her shoulder blades, but it had nothing to do with work. She missed Antony. She pulled her phone out of her purse and saw that he still hadn’t sent her a text all day.
“Well, what do you expect, stupid,” she muttered. “You told him not to call until after Philadelphia.”
There was a knock and then Beverly peeked her head around the door. “Um…one last client came in, requested you specifically.” She grinned and stepped to the side as Antony entered the room. “I’ll be out front,” she sang as she closed the door, leaving them alone.
Maxine put a hand on the counter to steady herself. It had been almost a full two days since she’s seen him in person.
He was in jeans, a tight crew neck sweater, and leather jacket. There was a small shopping bag in his hand. “Bonjour,” he said. “You once promised me facial.”
“I thought we weren’t going to see each other until you came back?”
“It’s been forty-four hours”—Antony looked at his watch—“and ten minutes since I last saw you. I couldn’t wait.” There was the squeak of leather as he leaned closer to her. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “This is not about hockey, is it?”
She concentrated on keeping her voice level. “How can we be together if thin beautiful women are lining up to feel your ass after every game?” She cringed. “That sounded different in my head. It’s just that…well, you lied to me about hockey, and you know my past with Johnny.” Maxine rubbed her forehead. “I’m nervous, I suppose, of what’s happening between us.”
Antony’s face stayed somber. “Those girls want pictures for Facebook—not me. I don’t remember what they look like. Not important.” He handed her the small shopping bag. “But I do remember you not kissing me goodnight.”
Maxine took the bag and lifted out the small plastic container. “You brought me a brownie? You’re always feeding me.”
“I want to make you happy,” he said. “I want you in my life.”
“I don’t belong in your world.” Her voice sounded small and unsure.
“Look in bag again,” he instructed.
Maxine put the brownie on the counter and pulled out a key.
“I’ve never had anyone to my apartment but you,” he said. “Come and stay anytime you want.”
“But—”
“Je te veux,” he interrupted. “I want you. How can I convince you?” he said.
Maxine dropped her gaze. A part of her brain had convinced her heart this was all a joke and soon the gag would be revealed. She could almost see the headline; Fat girl falls for hockey player’s fake love.
Then his lips brushed against hers and his hands smoothed down her side.
“We can’t—” she began, but her words were lost as he started kissing her, soft but insistent.
His hands moved to her back, then slipped around her in a solid embrace. “Je suis fou de désir pour tu,” he breathed into her ear. “I’m mad with desire for you.” His tone coupled with his words and strong embrace were too powerful to ignore.
Maxine sighed in his arms, feeling like she was slipping into a second skin. What other proof did she need before she let herself believe him?
He was her perfect fit. Nothing had ever felt so definite. Maxine felt like she was free falling and flying at the same time, euphorically petrified.
She was in love with a man who loved her back, unconditionally—he could never hurt her, she was sure of it.