Page 35 of The Odds of Happily Ever After
“I run a business, Max.”
“And your clients won’t be checking their portfolios and calling for an emergency meeting with you on a Friday.”
They very well could be.
“Live a little, Martins.”
Why did everyone insist on believing I had no life outside work? It wasn’t like I never went out. I just had dinner . . .
Over a month ago with Luna. Before that, it was with her and Tala.
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
Max gasped theatrically. “What a miracle. It’s not a no.”
“It’s not a yes either.”
“I’m taking that as a win. Nine p.m. at Chamberlain. See you there.”
Thankfully, he headed out after that—likely to eliminate the chances of me changing my mind. Although I hadn’t said so, I decided to go. Tala used to be my default dose of social interaction, and with her gone, I needed to consider other options so I wouldn’t lose what little interpersonal skills I had. At least I wouldn’t need to start from zero with Max, and I wouldn’t be forced to try for a good first impression.
I could say yes to drinks once in a while.
After checking the materials I needed, I gathered my belongings and left for my apartment. The rest of the day passed in video meetings and market reviews, and next thing I knew, my phone was ringing. A notification popped up on my laptop screen that Max was calling.
Shit. It was nine.
I picked up and spoke before he could. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
He laughed. “You’re still working, aren’t you?”
“Just finished,” I said as I saved my file.
“Turn off the laptop, Martins. See you in a few.”
Twenty-seven minuteslater, I sat at a corner booth opposite Max and perused the menu. It contained nothing but drinks and bar chow.
“I can vouch for the burger and wings,” Max offered. “Ten out of ten.”
Glancing up at our waiter, I said, “I’ll have the buffalo wings.”
“Any drinks?” he asked.
“Whiskey neat. Thanks.”
“Got it. I’ll have that to you in a bit.”
Shaking his head, Max pointed his beer bottle at me. “Would you look at that. After knowing you for years, I finally have the privilege of drinking withtheGabe Martins.”
“Technically, we’ve been at multiple functions that had alcohol,” I pointed out.
“Mandatory events don’t count. It’s not friendship when the other person doesn’t willingly choose to be there.”
By that definition, I supposed we were friends now. It took us long enough . . . or maybe the accurate statement was that it tookmelong enough.
“Here you go.” The waiter placed my drink in front of me. “I’ll be back with your wings. Another beer?” he asked Max.
The rocks glass distracted me from Max’s response. Before I could forget, I pulled out my phone and typed a message.
