Page 56 of Fated

“They’re gone,” he repeated, “and I’m full of guilt. I hate them for leaving. I hate them for leaving me this.” He gestured to the expansive back garden, to the mansion outside Geneva full of ghosts, and even to the rest of the world.

“You could burn it all. Wreck it. You’ve been doing a good job. I’d say in a year, eighteen months, you’ll lose it all.”

He nodded.

“Or you can burn what you need to burn. I’ll help you. And the rest of it, you can rebuild it. Make it your own.”

“What would you do?”

“I’d rebuild it. I’d make it something great.”

“Do you know, I think you would. If I try, will you watch me?”

“I won’t just watch. I’ll cheer you on. I’ll be your friend.”

“Aren’t we already friends?”

“Not like this.” I nodded at the pile of bottles. In the dark they were the bones of a whale’s carcass washed ashore and picked dry. A great behemoth, dead and gone. The flamelight danced over the bottles, macabre in its dying. Finally, the flame guttered and Max nodded, decided.

“All right,” he said.

“All right?”

Then he smiled and stood tall. For the first time that night he looked at me as if he really saw me. His eyes burned bright. “In the morning I’ll take you and the baby for coffee. I could use coffee. I could use your help strategizing how to raze and rebuild.”

“Mila.”

“What?”

“Her name’s Mila. Babies have names, you know.”

He nodded. “I know. But I like calling her the baby. It’s cute.”

I laughed and punched his arm.

And that was the moment when Max decided we’d be friends for life. He told me the very next morning. I’d decided we’d be lifelong friends when he knew I was expecting and offered his friendship and support. The both of us reached the same conclusion at different times. Friends.

But now Max has reached another conclusion. One I haven’t arrived at. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

He smiles at me as we stand under the leafy green of summer with the morning breeze blowing past. Nine years of friendship between us. Nine years of trust.

“If you don’t want?—”

“Yes,” I say, putting my hand over his. “I’ll go to dinner with you and let you bring me flowers, share a kiss, see where it might lead.”

He smiles at that, surprise flickering in his brown eyes.

Perhaps, just like my dream let me dive into the lake with Mila and Daniel, perhaps it’s letting me open up in this too. Perhaps allowing myself to love McCormick in my dreams will let me open up to loving Max as more than a friend.

Perhaps that’s what my dream is telling me.

I don’t know. Right now I’m not sure of anything.

“You’re truly certain?” I ask him. “Even if this doesn’t lead to more. You’ll stay my friend?”

“Don’t worry,” Max says, brushing his finger across my cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I nod and rest my cheek in the palm of his hand.

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