CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
While I sat there not knowing what to say to his comment, I made a mental list of all the reasons why I couldn’t fall for Max Colby.
I had emotional trauma from being repeatedly rejected by men I was attracted to and didn’t want that to happen with him because it would be so much worse, given that I liked him more than I had ever liked anyone else.
He dated around a lot and I’d already lived with one womanizer and was in no hurry to repeat that particularly painful experience.
He’d let me know repeatedly that he wasn’t interested in a commitment, and I didn’t want to be one of many.
He hadn’t indicated any interest in me beyond friendship and had, in fact, eagerly agreed when I’d told him I wanted us to be friends.
The last one was the one currently weighing most heavily on my mind. He was flirtatious and fun, but as far as I knew, he was that way with about half of New York City’s population.
It was then that my brain reminded me that I had been quiet for an unnatural length of time while I composed my list to keep myself in line.
I cleared my throat and said, “Then maybe you should pay your tour guide more if she’s so good at her job.”
He lifted up one of the cornettos and, with a wink, said, “That’s what the pastries are for.”
See? No deeper meaning. Just harmless flirtation. Nothing more.
I couldn’t let myself get caught up in him, even though I really, really wanted to. He was so sexy and kind and loved his dog and was smart and funny, and it was taking all of my self-control to not leap across this couch and make out with his face.
“The princess is arriving,” he said, pointing to the screen.
I’d been so caught up in my lustful impulses that I’d missed the rest of the royal family arriving for the wedding. Good thing I was recording this and could pore over everything later.
Princess Chiara arrived in a golden carriage pulled by white horses, like something out of a fairy tale. The door was opened outside the cathedral, and a footman assisted her in getting out of the carriage. She had on a big, princess-worthy wedding dress and a long white cape lined with faux fur. She was the fashion-loving member of her family, so it made sense that she’d arrive in so much style. Like all the other Monterran princesses before her—Kat, Lemon, Genesis, and Violetta—Chiara had a green sash around her waist.
“The green is for good luck,” I told Max. The wedding was probably the only thing that could distract me from wanting to kiss him. Princess Chiara looked so happy, and Nico was there to escort her up the stairs. Her father, the former king of Monterra, waited at the top for them in his wheelchair. He would be the one to bring her down the aisle.
I knew that her fiancé would wait for her by the altar, not turning around until she was standing next to him. The camera kept panning to his face, waiting for the moment when he would see his new bride. He looked excited and happy and very in love.
“How old is the princess?” Max asked.
“Twenty-two, the same age as me.”
“Isn’t that a little young to be getting married?”
What was it with this man and not wanting to settle down? Was he trying to send me signals, letting me know that he wasn’t interested and my brain should not be heading down the path it already was? “I guess when you find the right person, that sort of thing doesn’t really matter.”
“If I do get married, I think I’d be like, in my thirties.”
“That seems kind of arbitrary,” I told him. “If you met your soulmate, you’d be like, ‘Oh, sorry, it would be great to celebrate our love and make a lifetime commitment to you in front of all our friends and family but I can’t because I haven’t reached some imaginary cutoff that I’ve picked for myself.’”
“I guess you have a point.” I nearly missed the mischievous gleam in his eye.
“Of course I do.” I paused for a beat and then asked, “Have you been to a Monterran wedding? I’m really curious about what happens at the reception. They usually show the actual ceremony, but I have no idea what the next part is like.”
“There’s a lot of traditions. Pranks played by the wedding party on the newlyweds, specific dances, favorite dishes. In some places they cut up the groom’s tie and the guests buy a piece for luck, and all the money goes to the couple. Usually the bride and groom will break a glass vase, and every piece on the ground represents how many years they’ll be happily married. In the northern region some couples plant a pine tree that symbolizes their love. But the final toast is always the same—they’ll say per cent’anni. It’s a hope that their love will last for a hundred years.”
“Per cent’anni,” I repeated, liking the way it sounded.
We ate our food and watched the ceremony quietly. Chiara’s voice caught several times, like she was so in love with her soon-to-be husband that she couldn’t get the words out. I ate up every single second of it.
After the vows had been exchanged, the newlyweds made their way to the front door of the cathedral to greet the waiting crowds. A massive cheer broke out as they emerged outside and waved to everyone. After a couple of minutes, they got into the carriage and drove off to their reception. I turned the TV off, as I knew from past experience that there would be nothing else to report. All the activities beyond that point would be private for the families.
“That was so great,” I said as I let out a happy sigh. “I bet my mom’s going to call me soon to recap.”
It had just been a passing comment, me thinking out loud, but Max took that as some kind of signal that I was throwing him out.
“I should get going,” he said as he stood up.
“Oh.” I was going to tell him not to leave, but then he went and dropped a nuclear bomb on me.
“I’m assuming today it’s going to be another busy day for you.”
I nodded. “Yes. Like always. But who needs sleep?”
“Most people do,” he said with a smile.
“What about you? What are your plans today?”
“Take a run with Basta, relax for a little bit, and then I have dinner plans with Arabella.”
It was like he’d taken a dagger and plunged it directly into my heart.
Dinner plans with Arabella?
Stunning ex-girlfriend Arabella?
I was nauseous. I was going to throw up my zeppoles all over him.
I must have made a face that reflected my feelings because he rushed to add, “She’s here in the city and she offered to get together and return some of my things.”
Well, she didn’t need to take the man on a date to give him back his stuff. And what did she need to return that he’d managed to live without just fine for the last few months?
It was an excuse to see him again. I understood it, I did, but the fiery inferno of jealousy currently consuming me made it so that I felt completely irrational.
I knew I couldn’t say anything, though. Friends did not get mad when their friends had dinner with gorgeous supermodels.
If anything, I should probably be high-fiving him and telling him good luck.
Was this why he hadn’t called or texted yesterday? Because he was having let’s get back together conversations with his ex?
Yet another entry for my list of reasons that he and I could not be together—he was still hung up on Arabella.
Resigned to reality, I stood up and nodded. I was going to take a high road here. Maybe not the high road, because that would probably consist of telling him to enjoy himself for something that was beyond my current capabilities, but I could take a road near that one.
“That sounds like fun.” It did not sound like fun, but that was between me and my brain. “Do you want me to pack up your food?”
“No, you and Vella enjoy.” He called for Basta and she got to her feet and came over to him. He clipped her lead into place and I walked them over to the door. He said, “Hey, be sure you don’t step in front of any cars today.”
I didn’t know if I was ready to joke, considering the information he’d just given me.
“Bye,” I said, feeling proud of myself for not melting down over Max having dinner with his ex. “And bye to you, Basta.” I got down on the floor to rub her head and she gave me cute doggy kisses that made me laugh.
“I’m so glad you like her,” he said. “It would be really awkward if you didn’t.”
“Of course I like her,” I said as I straightened up. “She’s the most adorable dog ever.”
With a grin Max said, “I was talking to Basta.”
Vella found me surrounded by a graveyard of half-eaten pastries, snoozing on the couch.
“What happened in here?” she asked after she’d woken me up. “Did you rob a bakery?”
“Max came over to watch the royal wedding with me and brought a whole bunch of Monterran breakfast food and I was eating my sorrows.”
She sat down on the couch next to me. “Why would you need to eat your body weight in carbs?”
“He’s having dinner tonight with his perfect ex-girlfriend and I’m so jealous I can barely see straight. Or my vision impairment might be due to a sugar overload.” The one thing I was glad about was that he hadn’t told me about his date with his ex until after the wedding was over. His revelation didn’t taint the memory I would treasure of eating delicious food and watching something I loved with him.
“Huh.”
“‘Huh’?” I repeated. “I need let’s-light-his-hair-on-fire Vella, not huh Vella.”
“I mean, I could do it, but it would probably mar his face and no one in the world wants that.”
“Ugh,” I groaned. “He and I are just friends, nothing more. I have no right to be jealous. At all.”
“You may not have the right, but I am giving you permission to be as jealous as you want.”
“I don’t think you have the authority to do that,” I said with a weak smile.
“Sure I do. I’ve granted it to myself. By the power vested in me by me, I hereby allow you to be jealous that Max is having dinner with his ex-girlfriend and to be annoyed about it and even petty if you want to be.”
“I am feeling very petty. Like, I’d let the air out of her tires if she owned a car and I knew where it was.”
Vella made a pshaw sound and opened up the pastry box on the coffee table. “You think way too small.” She picked out a treat and started to eat it.
“It’s because my brain is too crowded right now. What I am thinking about is how you said stuff is happening between Max and me just because he wants to rescue me.”
“I never said that.” Her mouth was full when she spoke, but I could make out what she was trying to say.
I ignored her response because she pretty much had, even if she wanted to deny it now. “Does that mean I’m going to have to almost get run over every time I hang out with him?”
She swallowed her bite. “He doesn’t like you because he stopped you from getting flattened like Wile E. Coyote. He liked you before that.”
“He doesn’t try to spend time with me.” I crossed my arms, like I was determined to be difficult. At her raised eyebrows, I added, “Other than this morning.”
“Maybe that’s because you’re constantly telling him how busy you are and he’s being considerate of your schedule. Wouldn’t it be worse if he was always trying to hang out with you and distracting you from your job?”
“I guess,” I mumbled. I decided to say the scary part out loud. “But if he does like me, why doesn’t he say so? Or try to kiss me?”
“He’s probably being respectful or whatever because you told him you only thought of him as a friend. I don’t know how people like you do relationships.”
“Max Colby doesn’t like me.” I needed to say it out loud, if only to remind myself.
Vella finished off her food and let out a long sigh. “Let me put it to you this way. Dating is like a foreign country for you. You’ve never really visited—maybe a couple of day trips, but that’s it. I have lived here for most of my adult life. I am fluent in the language and know all the customs. So please allow me to translate this for you. I’ll even ignore all the other events and only count what happened today. A man who surprised you with delicious pastries at four thirty in the morning does not want to be just friends. No guy watches a televised wedding of people he does not know and doesn’t care about for no reason. He did it to make you happy. Because he likes you .”
Surprise gripped my throat, rendering me momentarily speechless. I wanted to protest but found that I couldn’t. I forced myself to think about my list of all the reasons things couldn’t possibly work with him. I wanted to share it with Vella, but I knew she would just shoot them all down.
I weakly settled on, “I don’t have time right now to worry about dating.”
“No one is asking you to worry. Dating is in the fun section of the program.” She stood up, dramatically smacking her hands together as if she were washing them clean of this whole situation. “Is there more food in the kitchen?”
I nodded. “There’s gelato in the freezer, too.”
“Oh! Gelato!” She opened the freezer door to survey her choices. She glanced back over her shoulder at me. “I am sorry about the kissing, though. Not only that he’s not doing it but, as I said, given how he dances, he probably won’t be all that great at it.”
I probably should have kept my response to myself but I didn’t. “You’re wrong. I know that it’s going to be so good between us. If I get this excited because he sits close to me or holds my hand, it’s going to be Mount Vesuvius good if he ever kisses me.”
“Hopefully your love will not bury a bunch of people in lava. Is it okay if I eat the pint of chocolate?”
“Sure.” I reached for my pen and notebook on the coffee table. Maybe it was time to make a list of why it would be a good idea to be braver and put myself out there. I had already resolved to do just that—why was I having such a hard time following through?
I tapped the pen against my lips, thinking. I knew why I was having a hard time.
Because I was setting myself up for failure and I didn’t like failing.
More importantly, I didn’t want to lose what I had with Max.