Max nodded again. “I kind of figured. You looked like you wanted to puke when she came into the restaurant. I’ve only ever seen that look once before—the day Noah realized he didn’t actually hate Angelica.”
Ben pushed to his feet and paced the room. “It doesn’t matter, though.” He came to the wall and turned. “I have nothing to offer her.” He hated the flatness in his voice. It reminded him too much of the empty days after he’d been fired, when he’d struggled through numbness to figure out what to do next with his life. Unfortunately, he still didn’t really know. He couldn’t imagine a future for himself, let alone one where Maeve might be in it. Successful, sweet, perfect Maeve.
Max opened his mouth to speak and then abruptly closed it. Opened it again. “Look, I’m not going to tell you what to do. All I’ll say is be careful there.”
Ben halted his pacing. “I’m trying.”
“Try harder.” With that not-too-subtle reminder, he stood and brushed past Ben, clasping him on the shoulder as he went. “She’s not someone you mess around with. Maeve’s a forever kind of girl.”
“I know,” Ben said as his friend made his way to the door.
Then again, once he’d gone: “I know.”