Chapter Four
Max
We snake our way around to Main Street, and I peek around the corner to make sure there aren’t any suits standing at the end of the block. I’m relieved to see the box trucks have departed. I breathe a sigh of relief as we make our way to my office.
When we step in, I hear Carla upstairs laughing loudly, and Debbie gives me a wide-eyed look, shaking her head. We all know that laugh, she’s trying to impress someone and network—poor soul.
“I’m just grabbing my laptop and heading home. I won’t interrupt her, but will you let her know I left when she’s done with all… that?” I whisper, glancing from Debbie to the top of the stairs with a half-smile and a cringe.
“Yep, some older guy came in, they acted like old friends, it was strange.” She shakes her head. “He said he had a proposal for her or something.”
I make my way over to my desk to see Bart and Becca outside my window. She’s staring down the street at the offending building with her hands on her hips like a superhero. If looks could set a building on fire…
Checking the time quickly, I grab my things and head straight back to the door. The laughs have subsided, but as I grab the door, the little bell above it rings loudly. I cringe, cursing under my breath.
Carla’s voice sings down the stairs. “Oh, oh, she’s back! Let me grab her. Max!”
I frown in Debbie’s direction, and she gives me a sympathetic look.
I turn back towards the staircase. “Hey, Carla, I was just heading out.”
“Come up here for a moment, would you, please?” She says softly back down the stairs, popping her head around the wall above. Her hair is hanging in her face, and her eyes are wide, silently telling me this is not optional. She waves her hand wildly at me to come up.
I sigh, drop my laptop on Debbie’s desk and begrudgingly trudge up the stairs. At the top, I’m hit with cologne that smells like something my dad would wear mixed with the faint smell of cigars. Something inside of me turns with recognition, but I can’t place it.
I smooth down my cardigan, looking down at my jeans and shoes as I turn the corner into the sitting area outside of Carla’s office.
“Maxine Simmons, as I live and breathe,” a familiar gravelly voice floats through the air, and my blood runs cold.
Richard Ellison stands from his place on the leather armchair and Carla stands beside him. “Oh, what a reunion!” She claps her hands together and the phone rings from her office. “I’ll let you two catch up, be right back.”
She shuffles out of the room and closes her door lightly, leaving me alone with someone I used to consider family. My breath hitches as I try to regain my composure.
“I’d like to hug you, but I know that may make this situation even more uncomfortable,” he says as he smiles sheepishly, and I take in his large frame.
His hair is greyer than it was three years ago, grown out longer than the short, buzzed cut he used to have.
His face has more wrinkles, but at sixty years old, he still looks great for his age.
He’s even lost a bit of the belly he used to carry.
His slacks are black, but his shirt is blue, unbuttoned at the top.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in a suit without a tie.
Come to think of it, his hair is a bit disheveled, and he’s wearing brown loafers with no suit jacket.
Confusion at his casual attire sets in as he closes the space between us quickly—doesn’t seem like a guy who is ‘slowing down’ to me.
His hand reaches out, and I automatically do the same as he takes one of mine between both of his.
“The last time we talked, you were, very reasonably, storming out of my office without so much as a day’s notice.
” His hands are warm, and he pats mine, his eyes softening.
“You didn’t deserve any of that, and I never got to apologize for my son’s…
well, let’s call it despicable behavior, even though we both know that doesn’t begin to cover it. ”
I’m not surprised by his comment in the least. Richard was always seemingly too nice to be a high-powered attorney, and he seemed to always be overly critical of Patrick.
He wasn’t the one who cleaned up after Patrick, but he did try and fix him.
And his mistakes. But he never tried to fix the one Patrick made with me after I left.
Probably because he knew there was no fixing it.
I take a deep breath, forcing my mouth to offer a small smile back. “I appreciate that, Mr. Ellison. I’m sorry I had to leave, too.” I look down and he lets my hand go. “I didn’t want to leave, but…”
He puts a hand in his pocket and waves the other out in front of his face.
“First, it’s Richard, you know that. Secondly, you never apologize to anyone for doing what you must do to get away from a toxic situation—or a person, job, or a relationship.
You never apologize for being strong.” He points at me.
“But I sure do regret losing you, we never could quite replace you.”
I smile again. “Thank you.” I realize I need to quickly escape, because as nice as Richard is, the history bubbling around us in this little space is closing in around me. “I was actually just heading out, but it was so nice to see you.”
I take a step back and he takes one forward.
He glances at Carla’s closed office door, then at me.
“If there is anything you ever need, please let me know.” He hesitates and rubs the gray stubble across his jaw.
“If you ever change your mind, I know it’s been quite a long time, but I’d take you back at the firm at the drop of a hat.
Especially with us just being right down the road now.
I mean that, Max. You were fantastic at your job, there’s always a place for you at E Patrick’s dad is upstairs talking to Carla.” I fumble with my laptop and reach back for my phone to text Jenni to make plans for tomorrow. I need to know what’s going on in their office or I’m going to lose my mind.
“He’s—what? Why? Did you talk to him?” Becca whispers, like someone might be listening.
“Yes, Becca, yes. I had no choice. I left my phone on my desk, I think, can you hold my laptop? I’m going to sneak back in, I’ll be quick.”
Without waiting for an answer, I hand her my laptop and swing back around.
I open the door slowly to muffle the sound of the bell.
I push the door stop under it to keep it from shutting all the way to avoid another bell ring and walk past Debbie.
I get to my desk and grab my phone, seeing a text from Jenni’s number already up on the screen.
Jenni: Coffee tomorrow morning? It’s Jenni. There’s a little place, Gabby’s, can we get coffee there? How’s 8? Loved seeing you today, can’t wait for regular coffee dates together again soon!