Chapter 28
April
It’s incredible to think about it, but I just met this man, yet I can’t imagine what it’s going to feel like not having him beside me after today.
After we leave the little Mexican restaurant—still full, still laughing about how many tamales I managed to eat—we climb into the car, and something shifts.
Max takes the wheel. I take his hand. He hums along to the music, that low, soft kind of hum that settles into your bones. His thumb strokes the back of my hand every few minutes. His smile is there, soft and lazy, when he glances over at me at red lights, but he hasn’t said a word about what happens next.
Not once has he asked if I’ll stay longer. Not once during these few hours on the last leg of our trip has he said anything about seeing me again. He hasn’t even asked when I’m flying home, and maybe I shouldn’t expect him to, but I do.
Because last night? Last night wasn’t casual. Not for me. So I do what any emotionally fragile, spiraling twenty-something does—I text my sisters.
ME
We’re almost to the hotel.
Thirty minutes away.
And he hasn’t said anything about seeing me again.
Not a single mention o.
“what now.”
Not even when I gave him my whole body like a walking, breathing love letter. *insert dramatic cry here*
The replies come quickly.
MAY
Just ask him.
Be straight up.
If he’s the man you think he is, he’ll respect you for being direct.
right June?
JUNE
Girl, you gave up the cobwebs.
The LEAST he can do is give you a conversation.
I let out a breath, chewing on my lip.
I love them. I do. But I can’t bring myself to say anything. I don’t want to be the girl begging someone to want her. Not when I already know what I want.
So I’ll leave it up to him. If Max wants me in his life, he’ll say it. He’ll show it. Maybe he’s feeling overwhelmed. I know he’s going through a lot, starting over in a new role, a new life. Maybe now isn’t the right time to put pressure on something undefined.
But still… a part of me aches to hear him say.
“Don’t go yet.”
He smiles at me again, then lifts my hand to his lips and presses a kiss to the back of it, and just like that, I’m unraveling, because how do you look at someone with that smile—touch them—and then let them go without a word?
It’s sweet. It’s adoring. It’s… confusing as hell, and the closer we get to the city, to reality, to the part where he drops me off and this little love story turns back into two people who met at the airport…the more my heart panics.
But I don’t say anything. Not yet.
Fifteen minutes out. The city stretches wider now. Traffic thickens. The sky is bluer than it has any right to be for how heavy my chest feels. I stare out the window, following the blur of buildings and palm trees, counting the seconds, pretending not to count the miles. I won’t look at him. If I do, he might see it—all the hope, the ache, the quiet unraveling inside me.
This trip is supposed to be about my fresh start. A bout the job. About proving to myself that I can finally do something for me. Not about a man with green eyes and a soft smile who’s taken over my heart in record time.
“Do you have everything you need for tomorrow?”
Max asks, his voice gentle.
I smile softly, trying to keep my walls up and my voice light.
“Yeah. June made sure my hotel room has a steamer, so I’ll be working out the wrinkles from the bottom of my backpack as soon as I get there.”
He chuckles, and I feel it all the way in my ribs.
“Do you want to have something ordered for dinner?”
“No, I’m still full. Honestly, I’ll probably just grab something small in the morning.”
He nods.
“What time’s your interview?”
“Nine a.m.”
There’s a pause.
“Text me the address.”
I blink, caught off guard.
“Why?”
“So I can have a car pick you up.”
“Max—”
“No arguing,”
he says, his tone soft but sure.
“Please, just let me.”
I open my mouth to push back but stop myself. He wants to do this for me. So I nod and send him the address.
The GPS announces we’ve arrived, just as the hotel comes into view—a tall, modern building with a glossy entrance and a valet waiting at the curb.
He pulls up to the front, shifts the car into park, and lets out a breath. Then he reaches for my hand. I turn to him fully, heart in my throat.
“I can’t believe you drove me all the way here,” I say.
He smiles, warm and tired and beautiful.
“I can’t believe the adventures we’ve had.”
“We stayed in nowhere, Texas,”
I say, laughing.
“Can’t forget Peaches the chicken,” he adds.
“Or the magical horses in Arizona,”
I whisper.
“And the girl who made everything better,”
he says, holding my gaze.
The silence stretches, not awkward… just heavy. Like neither of us wants to say what comes next. But I do.
“Do you want to come up?”
He hesitates, then, gently, like he’s trying not to break something between us, he says,
“I can’t.”
I nod, but it stings anyway.
“I have to go home, figure out some things before the morning. I’m supposed to be in the office first thing tomorrow.”
“I thought you didn’t start until your birthday?”
“My title’s not official until then,”
he says.
“But I’ve already started the transition. Meetings, responsibilities… it all begins now.”
I nod again. That heavy silence returns, and this time, I know it means goodbye.
“It’s late,”
I say, my voice smaller than I mean it to be.
“You should get going.”
He nods, gets out of the car, and walks around to my side, then opens the door and helps me out.
We stand there, just looking at each other.
“You’re going to do great tomorrow,”
he says.
“I’m sure of it.”
“Thank you,”
I whisper.
“Let me know how it goes?”
“I will.”
He kisses me, soft, lingering. I kiss him back. I don’t want to let go, but this feels like goodbye. I don’t want to let him go, but I do.
I step away. Toward the lobby, toward tomorrow, toward a life I’m going to now picture without him in it, and as the door closes behind me, I don’t look back. If I do, I won’t be able to walk away.
I lie in bed, the soft flicker of Friends lighting up the hotel room in hues of nostalgia and irony. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to watch my favorite show again without feeling a little cracked open, because I keep waiting for him to appear.
Maybe the bathroom door will creak open, and Max will walk out, towel slung low on his hips, hair damp, eyes sleepy, smile devastating. Or maybe he’ll knock on the door, two ice creams in hand, wearing that black T-shirt and the grin that should come with a warning label. But nothing happens. He's not here. He’s not coming.
Across the room, hanging from the bathroom door, is the outfit I steamed. Pressed and ready. The outfit I picked for tomorrow, for the interview—the one that could change everything.
It stares at me like a question mark. Like a future that still hasn’t made up its mind.
That outfit means a beginning, either here… or back home, where I’ll take whatever offer comes first and start again.
Alone.
My phone vibrates, and for a second, I forget to breathe.
But it’s not him, of course. It’s them.
JUNE
Hey. How are you holding up?
MAY
How’s the room? Did you eat? Are you spiraling?
I smile a little, blinking against the tears that snuck upon me.
ME
I’m okay. Just… bummed.
I miss him already.
It’s silly. But I do.
MAY
It’s not silly.
JUNE
You just fell for a unicorn in jeans.
You’re allowed to miss him.
MAY
And you’re not alone. We’re here.
Cheering for you every second tomorrow.
ME
Thank you. I love you both.
JUNE
Now go to sleep, badass.
Big day tomorrow.
You've got this!
MAY
Deep breaths. Hydrate. Dream of that man’s arms.
You’ve got this! You can figure out what’s going on with him once you’re done with your interview.
I smile at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, but I don’t type anything else. Holding the phone close to my chest, I let their words settle over me like a blanket and roll onto my side. The TV plays on. Monica yells at Chandler about cleaning their apartment. Ross says something dramatic about dinosaurs. The laugh track hums like a lullaby I’ve outgrown.
I reach for the remote to turn it off and just as I do, my phone vibrates again.
My heart stutters. I grab it, already hoping.
One notification. One name.
MAX
I miss you already.