8. Theo
8
THEO
A fake relationship was supposed to spare me from all the drama of actually dating someone—so how had I ended up bickering with Max on the sidewalk in the hot sun, in plain view of everyone shopping at the plaza?
“I don’t get it,” I said to her. “You need a dress, and now you have a dress.”
I held out the black garment bag as if she needed a reminder.
“I told you, it’s too expensive!” Max fumed at me, ignoring the two young women heading into the dress shop.
“And I told you I’m taking care of it.”
We stared at each other in a silent stalemate. How was it possible that she was so damn angry at me? It made no sense. The women I dated loved it when I bought them things. In fact, most of them expected it, to the point where my generosity almost felt like a requirement. I might have almost admired Max’s stubborn self-reliance for the sheer novelty factor if it didn’t come with arguments that felt like a waste of time.
“The dress was made for you,” I said, convinced that complimenting her would shift things. “You look incredible in it.”
Max’s hard expression soured even further. “I don’t need fake compliments—I need for you to listen to me when I say something is out of bounds.”
“It’s not a fake compliment,” I insisted.
“I don’t care!” she said, throwing her hands up in the air. “You’re totally missing the point.”
“Because the point is stupid,” I said, long since tired of this argument. “We agreed that I’d pay for your dress—and we didn’t put any cap on the price. I knew before we got here how much the dresses here cost, and it’s fine . It’s not like I can’t afford it.”
“So what if you can? That doesn’t make it right to waste your money! What kind of woman would expect that?”
“How about every single woman I’ve ever dated?”
That actually made her pause. “…Wait, really? It’s normal for you to drop that kind of money on a dress for your girlfriends?”
“One hundred percent normal,” I assured her. “I’ve shopped here before—that’s how I know Susan.”
She seemed to process this for a minute. “The women you date are horrible,” she stated, though at least she sounded calmer now.
“Well, yeah, ” I said. “Obviously. That’s why I had to hire you.”
I didn’t realize until the words were out of my mouth that a part of me didn’t actually like most of the women I dated. And it didn’t have anything to do with what they wore, or what they ate, or how much they did or didn’t drink, or the fact that they didn’t particularly want a relationship. It was the way they all expected to be swept off their feet, without ever making the slightest effort in return. It was the way they were happy to let me order for them, as long as I ordered them the most expensive thing on the menu.
“I…huh,” Max replied, processing what I’d just said. “Okay, fair point.”
“Can we be done arguing about this now?” I asked.
“Fine,” she sighed. “But the only way I’m going to wear that dress is if you take the cost of it out of my final payment. And from now on, I have to agree before you make any purchases. I’ll let you pay, but only if I think the price is reasonable. Deal?”
“Deal,” I agreed quickly. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but I could see it was the best compromise I was going to get.
I handed her the garment bag and she took it from me gingerly. She opened her mouth, probably to say goodbye, but she was interrupted by the noisy grumbling of her stomach. She flushed, looking down.
“So I’m guessing you’re hungry?” I asked, unable to resist teasing her a little.
“Starving,” she admitted. “I only had coffee for breakfast because I didn’t think this would take so long.”
She sounded petulant and I found it adorable. “Hey, you looked good in everything, it was a tough decision.”
Max finally allowed herself to smile. “Thanks. You probably think I’m ungrateful. I do appreciate the dress. It’s incredible.”
“Why don’t we talk about your control issues over brunch? There’s a fantastic little place within walking distance.”
“I’m in.” She paused. “But only if you let me treat.”
I chuckled. “You got it. Guess I’m going for the bottomless mimosas then.”
The little French bistro was in a lull between breakfast and lunch, so we scored a prime table right by the window. Perfect for people watching, although the truth was I was having trouble watching anything but Max. She was so real … so entirely herself.
“Wow,” she said as she scanned the menu. “I’ll take two of everything.”
“I hear that,” I replied. “Shopping is hard work.”
She flicked her eyes to me over the top of the menu. “So this is really something you do a lot? Take a woman to a fancy store for the Pretty Woman experience?”
“Yes, I’ve done my fair share of sitting on couches in fancy clothing stores. It goes with the territory, I guess.”
“Hm,” she nodded then went back to the menu.
I didn’t want to admit that the only time I’d actually enjoyed it was with her. There was no artifice to Max. She didn’t pose seductively for me when she came out of the fitting room, or pout to try to get me to buy her something extra. It was like she was clocked in for work, which, the more I thought about it, was exactly what it had been. We had an agreement. I needed to keep reminding myself of that fact.
A waitress appeared tableside. “What can I get you to drink? A Bloody Mary pitcher, maybe?”
“None for me,” Max said, shaking her head. “Busy day.”
“Yeah, I’ll pass. Water for me.”
I was a little disappointed to hear that it was probably going to be a quick meal. Sure, I had stuff waiting for me at the office as well, but I was sort of hoping Max and I could spend a little more time getting to know each other. If we were going to pull this fake dating thing off, we needed to have a solid rapport. Thus far, we seemed to set each other off nearly as much as we connected.
We settled into an uncomfortable silence, which was exactly what I didn’t want happening between us.
“Let’s do a getting-to-know-you speed round,” I suggested. “Just in case my nosy relatives start asking questions.”
Max leaned forward and finally smiled at me. “I’m in. Me first. Favorite hobby?”
“Anything water-based. Boats, jet skis, diving … if there’s a body of water I’m either in it or on it. What about you?”
“Photography.”
I shook my head. “Nope, that’s your work. Gimme something else.”
“You cheated then, because water is sort of your business. But, um … I guess dancing.”
“Okay, nice. What kind?”
“Well, I’m from Miami so if it’s Latin I’m in. If I’ve got a good partner I can salsa, bachata and merengue. I like line dances, like all those dumb ones they play at weddings. ‘The Cupid Shuffle,’ ‘Electric Slide’ …”
“You’re going to have a blast at the wedding then,” I laughed. “Jessica loves them too. Can you do the Chicken Dance?”
She gave me a smirk. “Who can’t?”
“Fair point. I can , but I don’t.”
“Oh, come on. Seriously? Are you going to be a wallflower at this wedding?”
“Oh, don’t you worry about that. I can dance. I’m good. Really good.”
Max threw her head back and laughed at me.
“What’s so funny?”
“You. You’re the president of your own fan club.”
I frowned at her. “No, I’m just aware of my strengths. It’s not bragging if it’s true. I took lessons with a pro for a few months because I wanted to learn how to dance, and because of that I’m good at it. It’s just a fact.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Max said, looking like she still wanted to laugh at me.
I saw a flash of Max in my arms. I was looking forward to gliding across the floor holding her close.
Because we needed to sell the relationship, I quickly reminded myself.
“Back to the speed round, you’re up now,” I said.
“Right, okay.” She pursed her lips. “Favorite ice cream flavor. And if you say vanilla I’m walking out that door.”
I laughed. “Guess I’m lucky to be a brownie batter guy. And you?”
“Chocolate chip cookie dough. Next question.”
I craned my head to look around the restaurant. “My next question is where the hell is our waitress?”
“Right? I’m about to start pouring sugar packets down my throat. In the meantime, question. Go.” She jabbed her finger at me.
“You’re really taking this seriously! Okay, okay, gimme a minute.”
I wanted to ask her deep stuff, like how many times she’d been in love, but it didn’t feel right to pry.
“What’s your perfect day?” I finally asked.
“Oooh,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “That’s a good one. Um, I would say … I start off by sleeping in. Then a huge breakfast with lots of pastries. Cinnamon rolls, chocolate croissants, stuff like that. Absolutely no eggs, though.”
I laughed at her serious expression. “No eggs, got it. What else?”
“Then a walk on the beach, maybe a little swimming. A nap. Some reading. Afternoon snacks. Wine. More snacks. A really delicious dinner in, then a movie in bed, then go to sleep and do it all again the next day.”
I felt my jaw dropping as she spoke. Most of the women I dated would’ve described a day of shopping or spa treatments. Maybe some of the more adventurous ones would have described exotic travel, extreme sports, or hitting up the hottest clubs. What Max had just talked about sounded pretty close to perfect to me as well, minus her stance on eggs.
“I like it.”
“What’s your perfect day?” she asked.
“I’d spend it sailing. I don’t get much of a chance these days because I’m so wrapped up in yachting. I miss the simplicity of wind-based movement on the water. Next question.”
“Um … biggest fear.”
“Damn,” I laughed. “Way to go for the jugular.”
She shrugged. “Might as well get it all out there.”
“Okay,” I fiddled with the water glass in front of me. “I guess it would have to be … something happening to my business.”
Max frowned. “ Seriously ?”
“Well, yeah. What else is there?”
“But …” Max stopped herself.
“But what?”
“You don’t worry about something happening to your family?”
“For me, my business and my family go hand-in-hand. My business allows me to keep my family safe and happy. If it went under, I wouldn’t be able to take care of the people I love.”
Something about that struck her, surprised her. Max seemed to wrestle with her words. “I mean, it’s not my concern, but from the outside it seems like you have nothing to worry about financially. The odds of you losing it all are pretty low, right?”
She was right. I was set for life. But after growing up without, there was no such thing to me as enough security. I had to take care of my family. That would always come first. And yeah, my greatest fear was failing in that task. “It’s not likely, no, but anything is possible. Now you. Biggest fear.”
I waited in silence as she fiddled with her napkin.
“Family stuff, I guess. I just want all of the people I love to stay safe and happy, you know?”
I nodded. I could tell that there was more to what she was saying, and I debated pushing for details. Her phone rang and she frowned when she looked at the screen. “Speaking of which…” she muttered to herself before looking up at me. “I need a second to take this,” she said as she pushed back from the table. “I’ll be right back.”
I watched Max through the window. She started pacing, worried, as she listened to whoever was calling her, then strode back into the restaurant and grabbed her bag off the back of her chair. “I’m so sorry, I need to run.” She pointed over her shoulder. “Something came up.”
“Is everything okay? What can I do to help?” I started to stand.
She sighed. “I need to go pick up my little brother. There’s some, uh, drama going on at home.”
“I’ll come with you.”
Max put her hand out to stop me. “No, there’s no need for you to get mixed up with my life, it’s fine. I know you don’t like complications, and trust me, this is as messy as it gets.”
Once again, I wanted to know more, but I could tell by her expression that it wasn’t my place to press for details.
“Okay, I understand. I’ll reach out with details about our next event together.”
She bit her lip and nodded. Somehow, I could tell she was ten steps ahead, plotting out how to deal with whatever was going on.
“Max?”
She finally refocused on me. “Yeah?”
“If you need me, call. If you need anything , I’m here. Got it?” I didn’t know why I said it. But I meant it with every fiber of my being.
She managed a half-smile at me. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”
I watched her leave and realized that she still hadn’t had a bite to eat.