Page 37 of Can We Skip to the Good Part?
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“That’s why. When you cross the thirty threshold, it’s like a light switch. You can’t hang with the late nights anymore. You physically feel the betrayal in your bones. It’s like my joints just heard ‘nine’ and filed a formal complaint.”
“Tell them we’ll get back to them. And when the clock strikes midnight, maybe Max will hold onto your shoe for you.”
She winced because it meant Ariana had picked up on the often sexy vibe that pinged between her and Max. She decided to dodge the insinuation. “Good thing I’m a night owl.”
“Good thing, Buttercup. See you soon. I won’t ask for directions because I’m confident Max knows how to get to the house.”
“Very funny, Ari.”
She headed to the small closet in the guest room and found her cute red top, which she paired with her brown booties, the closest thing she had to actual western boots. They’d have to do. Since Rachel was with coworkers for the night, she helped herself to her curling wand and added a few loose curls, anything to elevate her look beyond just sitting in front of a tablet all day. She surveyed herself in the mirror, adjusted a few strands, deciding that she’d done her best.
When 9:07 rolled around, there was Max’s black Range Rover in the driveway. She headed into the cold night, approached the car, and paused because where in the world was Ariana, the pretend passenger who’d hired the car?
“Hey,” Max said as Ella opened the door to the passenger side. She gestured to the center console. “I grabbed you a coffee for the ride. Just wagered a guess on what you might like.”
“Thanks,” Ella said, distracted. She slid into the passenger seat and glanced behind her like a cop looking for clues at a crime scene. “I thought Ariana was riding with us.”
“That’s true. She was. But then something happened with her aunt and a prescription at the pharmacy. She may or may not make it later.”
“Oh.” Chappell Roan played from the speakers as Ella sorted through her jagged thoughts. “So, just us.”
Max studied her and hesitated. She was a people reader. Hell, it’s what she did for a living. Ella was probably shooting off worried flares like a stressed-out rocket. “Is that okay? You can be honest. If you’re uncomfortable, we don’t have to ride together. Ari just told me you were expecting me, so I came.”
“No,” Ella said after a beat, not wanting to make this any more complicated or weird. “We’re grown-ups capable of riding in a car. Right?”
“My thinking exactly. I tell myself to be a grown-up at least twice a day.”
“Oh, no. And it still hasn’t worked.” After a brief pause for effect, Ella smiled triumphantly at Max, already feeling lighter. Why was it that when they were in the same space, all the issues between them felt conquerable? She should lean into that tonight. Keep things fun. And just like that, all the stress she’d been carrying around about how to handle the Max/Rachel debacle just lifted right off her chest.
“You’ve been in this car for less than three minutes and completely flamed me. Impressive.”
“It’s my job in life to keep you humble.”
“You keep me a lot of things.”
She pulled in air, allowed the comment to dissolve and settle, unsure what words to send back.
Max looked over at her as they approached a red light. “Too much?”
“No. I’m okay.”
It wasn’t the answer Max was expecting, and she seemed pleased. “Good. How was your week so far?” There was elegance in the way she asked even the most mundane of questions.
“I’ll tell you, Max Wyler, it’s been a series of ups and downs.”
“Fair enough. Tell me a down.”
It was a low-pressure command, and it sent a shiver winding through her body. Who’d ever heard of a winding shiver? “Okay, well, my parents broke up with me for the season.”
“I’m sorry? I’m trying to translate. They broke up with you?”
She recounted the story to Max and sighed. “They mean well, but they have a whole big exciting life, and I’m usually not at the forefront of it.”
“I see.” She paused at a red light, which afforded her a moment to look at Ella fully. “This may not help, but after years of dealing with people and their interpersonal strife, I can tell you that it was likely more about them than about you.”
