17. Heidi #2
I hesitate and glance across the lawn. Max is laughing at something Dean said, looking more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him. He looks like he’s home. Seeing him like that softens something in my chest.
I turn back to the women and exhale, my shoulders dropping an inch.
“Maybe just one.”
The second glass of punch has finally done its job. An hour of sitting with Abigail, Natalie, and Michelle has settled me. I like them. It’s hard not to when they’ve made it so easy to sit here and be part of the group.
But every few minutes, a Carter man breaks away from the chaos on the lawn to hover.
Dean appears just to tilt the patio umbrella, ensuring Michelle is entirely in the shade, while Henry swaps Natalie’s empty water for a fresh one before she even has to ask.
Even Will drifts over to snag a half-eaten crust from Abigail’s plate and squeeze her hand.
They scoop up whichever stray child is currently crying and haul them back to the grass.
It’s like they move on a silent rotation with their primary occupation being the comfort of their wives.
Max is the only one who stays away. He’s right in the middle of it, laughing as he dangles Harvey by his ankles, but despite looking over constantly, he stays on the other side of the yard. He’s smart enough to know that if he gets within arm’s reach, I’ll strangle him.
Silvia is keeping her distance too. She sits across the lawn with one of the younger boys on her lap while the men lose a wildly disorganized game of football to a pack of toddlers.
“Look at them,” Natalie says, watching her husband trip over a rogue soccer ball. “Big, tough men. But you put a three-year-old in front of them and they lose all their dignity.”
I laugh. Across the grass, Max snatches the ball and darts around the kids as three of them chase him toward the makeshift goal.
“Does Max always get this competitive?” I ask.
“It’s a sickness,” Abigail says. “The Carter men don’t do anything halfway. Especially not when they’ve decided they want something.”
I think I know what she means. The image of Max climbing up to my second-story window flashes through my mind.
“You know Max,” I say slowly. I’ve only known these women for an hour, but they’re warm and easy to talk to. “Is he…serious? What I mean is—does he bring women around a lot?”
They all shake their heads at the same time.
“I mean, I’ve seen what he can be like,” Michelle says. “But he hasn’t been like that for a long time. Honestly, he’s been pretty quiet.”
Abigail and Natalie nod in agreement.
“You didn’t hear this from me,” Natalie adds, lowering her voice. “But about a year ago Henry said Max had been asking where he might meet someone he could see himself marrying.” She pauses, smiling a little. “I mean, Henry wasn’t exactly the right person to ask. Given how we met.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“I was working for a rival company,” she explains. “It was messy.”
“Oh,” I say.
“I was on a case against Will,” Abigail adds. “Also…messy.”
“And I was seeing someone else,” Michelle says. “Dean practically stalked me until that ended.”
She catches my expression and laughs.
“In a romantic way. Mostly,” she adds.
Right.
They all look at me then, like it’s my turn. I have a feeling they already know. Henry certainly seemed to.
“Max is filming The One. You know the show?” They nod. “I’m the executive producer.”
I let that sit there, bracing for judgment.
Instead Abigail giggles. “They definitely have a type, these Carters,” she says. “The very last woman they should want.”
They all smile, and the shame sitting in my chest loosens a little. I glance away, watching the children running across the lawn. Then something occurs to me.
I frown. “Why are there only boys here?” I ask.
“Carters only make boys,” Natalie says with a shrug. “I’m three for three,” she adds, resting a hand on her stomach.
“Michelle’s got another boy on the way too,” Abigail says.
“That’s…statistically improbable,” I say.
“We know.” Abigail laughs. “The Carter DNA is just too stubborn to produce anything else.”
“That’s funny. Now that I think about it—my family’s the opposite. We only have girls. My sister has three, there were two of us, and my aunt has two daughters, and now a granddaughter.”
The three of them go very still. They exchange a wide-eyed look before bursting into laughter.
“Do not tell Silvia that,” they all say at once, their voices tripping over each other.
“Why?”
“She’s been praying for a granddaughter for years,” Abigail explains. “If she finds out you’re a girl-gene carrier, she’ll have you at the altar by sundown and a nursery painted pink by Monday.”
My face heats, a mix of embarrassment and a dangerously sweet thought I have no business having: Max tossing a giggling little girl into the air the way he’s tossing one of the boys now.
“She’s out of luck with us,” Michelle says, resting a hand on her stomach. “We’re done after this one. Besides, Dean thinks he’s keeping things quiet, but I know he’s itching to get back to work. He needs something new to obsess over.”
She leans closer, lowering her voice. “And guess what I found on his desk this morning? The financials for The Savoy. The man’s buying a casino.”
I blink. The sheer size of that move—buying a landmark—is hard to wrap my head around.
“That’s enough for you,” Max says, suddenly beside me.
Before I can respond, his hand closes around mine and he pulls me to my feet. “We have that thing tonight,” he says, his tone firm. “Remember?”
My brain snaps back to the production schedule.
Shit. I’d actually forgotten. For one hour, I wasn’t a stressed-out producer trying to manage a disaster. I was just a person at a party.
The goodbyes are quick. The women pull me into brief, warm hugs that catch me off guard.
“See you soon, Heidi,” Abigail says, giving my arm a final squeeze.