Page 37 of Wrong Idea

“Why!?” Her hand slammed on the top of my desk, and she winced in pain. “Ow!” she cried, lifting her hand to rub it, and that somehow snapped me out of my stupor.

“Shit!” I rounded my desk carefully, worried she would run out on me if I got too close.

“Are you hurt?” I asked, unable to stop myself. I reached for her hand. She tried to pull it away, but I didn’t let her.

“If I was, would you care?” she exclaimed but didn’t try to take her hand away from mine.

“You know I would, Max. I love you.” Too much too fast. She ripped her hand from mine and stepped back. Crossed her arms over her chest with a scowl on her face.

“You said you were a grown man who didn’t play games,” she accused, and my eyes shut for a second with remorse.

“Max, princess?—“

“Shut up! Never call me that again!” She shouted. Her lip wobbled. “I can’t believe anything you say. Not ever.”

“Baby—“

“I hate you,” she whispered. Her shoulders slumped forward almost in defeat. Everything inside me yelled at me to reach for her, but I stayed planted mere inches from her. It might as well have been an ocean between us.

“I want to hate you so much,” she sniffled and took a step closer, then another.

“Princess, please?—“

“Please, what? What are you going to tell me now? How many other lies are there? You’re married? Have two kids with one on the way? But you love me, so it makes everything okay? You’ll leave your wife for me?” she accused, and I shook my head.

“I’m not married. I’ve never been married, not even close.”

“Is that because you lie to women maybe?”

“No one got what you got from me, Max.”

“Lies?” she asked, too sassy for her own good. Fuck, I loved it, though. I loved that she called me on my bullshit. No other woman had ever loved me or had even been interested in the real me the way Max had. The way she had seen me and wanted me.And I pray I didn’t fuck it all up!

“Because that’s what I got from you. Lies! How could you, Dadd—“ The fact she cut herself off from calling me that killed. It filled me with fear that I would lose her.

“I can explain if you let me.”

“Two weeks… more than that! I’ve been living a lie. And what? Did you get a good laugh out of it? I hope you got that atleast. Dating the poor girl. Lying to her to make her think you were what? Some regular guy?”

“Baby, that’s not what?—“

“Don’t call me that,” she mumbled. “I want to hate you so badly it hurts. Everything in here“ —she pointed at her heart—“hurts. You hurt me.” The pain in her eyes cracked my heart further.

“I know.” I swallowed hard. “But I swear I’m sorry. Please let me explain, let me make it up to you. Jesus, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, Max. I promise.”

“I don’t think so.” She shook her head. Her wavy, dark hair bounced slightly, and I’d had enough. I pulled her into my arms, and that’s when I smelled the wine on her breath. She didn’t drive, but her being here meant she had taken the bus, public transportation, intoxicated.

Did she have any idea how dangerous that was? How some creep could have taken advantage of her?

“Have you been drinking?” I growled.

“Who cares if I have. I’m old enough. Buts tens again, I was old enough to know better. Love isn’t reals. Fairy tales aren’t reals. But you should be proud of yourself,” she slurred, breaking my heart with every word she said.

“You made me believe in them. In all of it. Even if it was just—“ She breathed in through her nose and suddenly went pale. Her body swayed, and I lifted her face to look at me.

“Max?” I called, but she didn’t say a word.

She hunched over and threw up all over my shoes. I held her close as the contents of her stomach emptied themselves onto the carpet of my office.

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