Page 55 of Can We Skip to the Good Part?
She didn’t check her hair or change her outfit. The hunter-green cardigan thrown on over her white T-shirt and jeans would have to do.
“Wow. Where are you off to so fast?” Rachel asked from her spot in front of the fridge. She lifted her shoulder and turned her chin into it in a playful pose.
“Oh.” Record scratch. “Me?”
“Well, I wasn’t asking the couch.”
“Valid.” Ella pointed at the door and swiveled back to Rachel. Her heart thudded. Her thoughts chased themselves in chaotic patterns, making it difficult to snatch one. “I just got a text that this friend needs me to—You know, when someone?—”
“Say no more.” Rachel grinned around the open fridge door and wiggled four fingers in farewell. “And tell Ariana I said hi. I won’t wait up.”
She sighed, opened her mouth, and closed it again because this wasn’t the moment to correct her. Max had said very little in her message, but Ella had the overwhelming sense that something was off. “Enjoy your night.”
“Not as much as you will,” Rachel called after her just as she swung open the door. Guilt threatened to topple Ella like a boulder teetering on the edge of a cliff. If she ran fast enough, maybe she could avoid being smashed.
Once inside the Mini, she cranked the volume, letting the music consume her as thoughts of Max surged through her mind like a riptide, pulling her under. Kelly Clarkson’s husky belt tore through the silence, a perfect storm against the heavy, brooding sky. The need she’d buried for what felt like a lifetime clawed its way to the surface, raw and insistent. If Max needed her tonight, she needed Max just as desperately—no more second-guessing, no more holding back. After so many false starts, she was done resisting. This thing wasn’t going away. Max wasn’t. It was time to dive headfirst into whatever this was between them, once and for all.
She found her way to Max’s condominium complex, which was definitely above her pay grade and possibly her sophistication level. She took in each detail as she made her way to the interior hallways. Shiny silver doorknobs and perfectly spaced sconces spoke of elegance and an expensive designer. This was Max’s world. And for the first time, she wondered just how much she really knew about the woman waiting for her upstairs. She took the elevator to the second floor and easily located Apartment 212. With a deep breath and a jittery stomach, she knocked and waited.
When the door swung open, there was Max. Dress slacks, shirt untucked, and barefoot. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head and held in place by a clip that, well, really worked for her. Ella forgot to inflate her lungs. She resisted the urge to look behind her to see if this was, in fact, the right door and her real life. A woman this beautiful, smart, and into her seemed too good to be true. That’s when she saw it, a bottle of wine dangling in one hand.
“Get in here and have a glass,” Max said with a soft smile. But her eyes didn’t dance the way they did when she was happy. Ella couldn’t quite tell what was behind them, but there was something new.
“Big moment. I’m about to see your place for the first time. This is going to be very telling,” she said, following Max into a small entryway where she slipped out of her shoes and left them next to a pair of black and pink running shoes. She certainly wouldn’t mind seeing Max in a sports bra. Better yet, running in one. “Are you a runner?”
“I try to be. Exercise is where I work out a lot of my thoughts on stressful days.”
The floor was gorgeous—gray-scale hardwood with planks that ran the length of the space, sleek yet inviting. Soft lighting cast a warm glow over the entryway, where a minimalist console table sat against the wall, topped with a small ceramic dish for keys and a framed black-and-white photograph of Max and two people who had to be her parents—a nice touch.
As Max led the way further into the condo, Ella took it all in—the clean lines, the intentional simplicity. She nodded along, impressed by the level of sophistication. Max was a grown-up. “Okay, Wyler. I see you.”
Max gestured to the space and made her way to the open kitchen to free the wine from its bottle. “Take your time. Explore. Frolic, if necessary. I won’t hold you back.”
“Oh, I will, Maxine. Don’t you worry.”
The living room opened up beyond the entry, its high ceilings giving an airy, effortless feel. A deep, gray and white sectional faced a sleek fireplace, above which hung an abstract piece of art in muted blues and whites, reminiscent of crashing waves. Mad good taste in art. Who would have guessed? She grinned because she would have. A built-in bookshelf framed one side of the room, lined with an eclectic mix of legal casebooks, fiction, andthe occasional vinyl record. The space was stylish but lived-in, refined but comfortable. A soft throw was casually draped over the arm of the couch, and an empty mug sat forgotten on the coffee table beside a face-down pile of papers.Work, she thought to herself.
Ella grinned, leaning against the doorway. “Okay, this is exactly what I would have guessed. A mix of sophistication and just enough mess to prove you genuinely live here.”
“Very astute. I purposefully created a mess knowing you were on your way and might doubt my residency.”
“The lengths we go.” She moved back to Max at the kitchen counter. “How long has this been your place?”
Max looked skyward, her big brown eyes searching through the records of her life, a life Ella wanted to know all about in unflinching detail. “Coming on four years.”
“Staying power.”
Max popped the cork on the bottle. “I think that’s a compliment. You’re cute in that sweater.”
She glanced down at the hunter-green cardigan that she regretted now. “This old thing?” She laughed. “I’m embarrassed I showed up in it, given that you’re still dressed for what looks like a big day in court, and I’m a rumpled librarian who can’t find her reading glasses that are likely on top of her head.”
“You’re the hottest librarian I’ve ever seen.” She said it unequivocally. Zero hesitation. Without even a smirk.
Ella swallowed, not having expected the comment. Max had a way of making her feel significant in a world that didn’t.
“Way to steal the air in the room.”
Max’s mouth eased to one side in a half-smile, the very one Ella couldn’t get enough of. She had such expressive lips. Bow-shaped when she was unsuspecting, curling like a secret when she was cheeky. “But in fairness, I’m untucked and without shoes.” She pointed to her feet. Plum nail polish on pedicuredtoes. “And I’m only still dressed for work because I swung by my parents’ house after my last session.”
