Page 75 of Tickled Pink

“See, that’s what I mean,” he says. “You have this ability to bring out the best man in me. And these last few years, together with Phoebe, have been… amazing.”

“Understatement, but go on.”

“I see the way you are with her. You take care of her. You always seem to know exactly what she needs. And I guess, at some point, I craved that for myself, too. Someone to take care of me when I needed a break.”

“And Phoebe doesn’t?” I ask.

“No, she does,” he says quickly. “That’s not what I’m saying. She’s… well, you know. Everything.”

I nod. “Yeah, I know.”

“But this is a different kind of need. It’s hard to explain.”

I almost don’t say it, but the joke slips out. “You need Thaddy,” I say.

Max scoffs. He laughs. “Yeah,” he says. “I needed Thaddy.”

“Needed?” I ask. “Past tense?”

He thinks. “Phoebe comes first. Always. You’re right about that,” he says. “And now that I know where these feelings came from, I can move on. We can move forward without…”

His voice trails. He looks away, his eyes flickering with the fire instead.

My chest tightens. Our last night alone.

“Max, I’ll always take care of you. And her. Don’t think for a damn second I can’t do both.”

He turns to me, nearly flinching. “But you’re not…”

“What? Gay? Bi? Do those words even mean anything in this house? Come here.”

I twist toward him. He doesn’t move.

“What?” he asks.

“I said, come here.”

I grip his shoulders, pulling him into my arms. Slowly, he wraps his arms around me, accepting the embrace.

“You’re my best friend, Max,” I say. “Nothing will ever change that.”

He sets his head on my shoulder. I feel him exhale with relief before sinking further into my arms. “Thank you,” he whispers at length.

I lean back, taking his face in both hands to raise him up. “And Phoebe loves you,” I tell him, meaning every word with all of my heart. “When we talk to her tomorrow, you’ll see. This won’t change a goddamn thing.”

Max bites down hard. He’s not sure, but I am.

There’s nothing in this world that could come between the three of us.

I kiss his forehead. He lifts his head, his forest eyes reflecting light from the fireplace. He touches my hands, still cupped to his cheeks. He licks his lips.

I tilt forward, drawn to him, taken by an overwhelming urge to hold him. To kiss him.

To take care of him.

Max meets me in a slow, tender kiss. Warm shivers spread throughout my arms, my legs. My lips tingle, perfectly cradled with his.

“Thad,” Max whispers, his eyes closed. “Should we—“

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