Chapter 1 #2
I know I sound incredibly selfish. I know I sound ungrateful for a man who is willing to be everything Nyles is to me.
Part of me was hoping that if I spent enough time with him, something would eventually spark.
But it hasn’t. Now, I’m starting to feel like one of those guys who keeps a woman hanging on with the "let's just see where things go" excuse, knowing full well I’m never going to get there.
I let out a breath. "I know I'm a thug, but I do want love someday. Sometimes I feel like my heart is just collecting evidence—reasons why I should finally open up—and none of them have ever pointed to Nyles. We’re just better as friends. I've known that for a while, now.”
She studies me for a beat, then nods slowly. “Yeah. I think I get that. What made it clear to you? That Nyles isn’t it for you.”
I pick up my coffee and sit on the edge of her desk.
“Every time I’m with him, I feel like I’m splitting myself in half.
He’s polished, disciplined, perfectly put together, but he never wants to let his guard down and just…
be. Not outside his home at least. And I can’t keep shrinking myself to match his expectations. ”
She tilts her head, studying me, not arguing…but definitely not convinced.
“Timantha, when we get together with the book club girls, we don’t just talk about books. We act a fool. We let our hair down. We smoke. We talk about fine men with big penises—”
“So you’re saying you can’t be with Nyles because he won’t smoke a blunt with you and let you talk smack around him?” she teases.
“No. But, also yes.” I laugh, then my tone shifts. “I want a man I can be my whole self with all the time. I want spontaneity.”
She cuts in, one eyebrow lifting. “I think you’re confusing spontaneity with adrenaline. You haven’t done anything spontaneous since you bought those tickets to that Canadian romance conference. Be real, Max. You don’t know how to sit still. Your body doesn’t know how to receive calm.”
“Shut up. We’re not talking about me,” I snap. “We’re talking about Nyles.”
Talking about Nyles, but my mind keeps drifting to the man in the profile.
She snorts. “Okay. Continue, Ms. Avoidant.”
My phone dings, and I glance down to see a text from my mother.
“Everything good?” Timantha asks.
“Yeah,” I say, already firing off a quick reply. “My mom needs to get her eyes checked. My sister was supposed to take her and now she’s suddenly unavailable.”
“And let me guess,” Timantha says, unimpressed. “You’re about to pick up the slack for Justine. Again.”
“I’m actually going to see if I can arrange some help for my mom in case I can’t make it either.”
My younger sister and I are ten years apart.
She was one of those surprise babies women have after being told pregnancy is no longer an option.
And if anyone had dared to call my mother’s pregnancy “geriatric,” she would’ve launched a bat at their head.
Justine was her miracle. Her blessing. We all treated her that way.
But when my father passed and my mom’s health started slipping, Justine suddenly became inconvenienced. Always busy. Always somewhere else.
We raised her with love. Made space for her. Protected her. Me and Justine have seen our mother bad-ass and boss her way through the unthinkable. Yet, this ungrateful heifer can never seem to show up when our mother needs her.
Timantha gives me a look. “See? I know that’s your mother, but you constantly make it very easy for your sister to take advantage of you.”
I take a slow breath. “I know, Tim. And I fully intend to talk to my sister about it. Just…can we let me avoid that conversation for the time being, too?”
She throws her hands up. “Sorry. Yes. Please continue explaining why you refuse to let yourself fall in love with that fine-ass Black man who lives in your building.”
“Thank you,” I go on, “I’m just saying, all these romance novels show the sunshine woman trying to soften the grumpy man, but what about her? My favorite part is when the beast falls for the beauty exactly as she is. Quirks and all.”
“And you’re saying you didn’t feel like Nyles would accept all your quirks and flaws?”
I shake my head. “Even though he’s the nicest man I’ve met in a long time, I think he’d try to smooth me out the first chance he got. Not maliciously. Not on purpose. Nyles just likes his world neat and tidy…even if keeping it that way means shrinking me to fit.”
“I get that,” she says softly. “And, let’s be real, there is nothing neat and tidy about your little self.”
I wink. “You get me, Boss Lady,” I say, using the nickname I gave her my first week here. The one she swears she hates…and secretly loves.
She shakes her head and looks back at her computer screen, which is now behaving like it has some sense. “Omg, what am I going to do without you while you’re off at that damn romance conference?”
“I’ve hired you very capable help. And don't say the conference like that. I can hear you judging me.”
“I didn’t say a word,” she says innocently. “I’m just pointing out that for someone who used to roll her eyes at book clubs and book boyfriends, you sure are going out of your way to meet your favorite authors and narrators. In Canada, no less. Where they currently do not care for Americans.”
“I think they’ve always secretly hated us and were just too polite to say it out loud until now.
And for the record, I did not roll my eyes at book clubs.
I simply said I didn’t understand the hype back then.
” I shrug, a small smile tugging at my lips.
“But thanks to you and the beloved Cockpit Chix book club, I’ve learned to value the sisterhood built around these stories. ”
There is a specific kind of healing that happens when Black women gather.
I love being able to let my hair down, to be girly, silly, and unapologetically giddy with women who have fast-tracked their way into being family.
They are a soft place to land in a world that demands we be hard.
These women champion your right to be loved and your need to feel safe, guarding your right to peace with a loyalty that, while it can occasionally come off as a little unhinged, is exactly the kind of fierce community I never knew I was missing.
“Plus,” Timantha adds, leaning back. “Canadian side-eye aside, I actually think it’ll be good for you to get away. You do everything for everyone in your life. You deserve a break.”
I take a slow breath. “You’re right. I do deserve one. I just hate the idea that something will fall apart without me.”
“I know you think you’re Superwoman, Max,” she says gently, “but you’re not God. You can’t be everywhere, and you can’t prevent every disaster. Sometimes you have to let things wobble so people can figure out how to stand without you.”
She’s right. My therapist would co-sign that immediately.
I have a terrible habit of trying to be everything to everyone while asking for nothing in return.
And even though I know I need this time away, and I’m actively working on loosening my grip, part of me is already spiraling at the thought of something unraveling the second I step back.
Letting go has never been my strong suit.
I let out a resigned sigh. “I know you’re right. I just need to keep telling myself until it actually sinks in.” I straighten, shifting gears. “Let me go sit with Reese and take a look at those security logs. Something about this attempt doesn’t sit right with me.”
We’ve been getting an increased amount of attacks on our servers lately.
Every company deals with them—phishing, ransomware, constant low-level probing from people looking to slip through a crack and grab whatever they can.
I’ve been quick enough to stay ahead of it, putting new safeguards in place as fast as new threats surface.
There are always bad actors hunting for personal data, credit card numbers, or anything they can use to steal an identity. That part isn’t unusual.
What is unusual are these attempts I’ve been seeing on Timantha’s. They’re minor on the surface, easy enough to shut down—but there’s something off about them. The timing. The pattern. It feels less like a smash-and-grab and more like someone testing the edges, watching, waiting.
“Well, I’m glad we’ve got my favorite nerd on the case.”
I shape my hand like a gun, aim, fire, then blow the invisible smoke from the tip. “Maxine Palmer, 007…Bitch”
She shakes her head. “You’re weird, Nerd!”
“And you love me, Boss Lady.”
“Stop calling me that!”
“Make me!” I yell over my shoulder, shaking my head at my boss who became something like a bestie.