Yield

8. Max

The past five weeks have flown by. “I can’t believe she’s four already!”

“Don’t remind me how fast it goes,” Lauren pouts. “Lincoln needs to stay my baby forever.” She hugs her one-year-old on her lap. “How’s the monster-in-law?” She mutters, baring her teeth.

Colleen always rents the banquet hall in town for Riley’s birthday because we can’t ever do something simple. It’s always a statement when her first and only grandchild is a year older.

“You know Colleen. Everything has to be her way.” I rest my hands on my hips, standing next to Lauren’s folding chair.

It’s not that bad anymore. After I learned to let her have control over it, I realized how much stress she took off my shoulders. The guest list is mostly Cole’s family and family friends, and our friends. My only relatives—my elderly grandparents—live across the country, so they don’t visit often. Okay, never. The only time I see them is when I fly in. Mom’s relationship with them was rocky and that meant I was never close with them either. It kinda sucks. I won’t have many family heirlooms or stories of my grandparents or my favorite cousin to share with Riley.

Mom was one of many children, but I don’t know any of my aunts or uncles. Dad was the opposite and my relationship with my grandma Bevie was wonderful. When she had a stroke a few years ago and had to move into an assisted living facility...it’s a struggle going there. I know it doesn’t matter if she can’t remember me because my presence would be enough, but it’s...hard. I’m glad my circle of friends hasn’t left me. If Cole quit riding, I’m not sure I’d see them as frequent though.

Colleen handles more than the guest invites. She makes all the food and coordinates the entertainment because we must always have something. It would be preposterous to think three and four-year-olds could play and run around without having someone perform a magic show for them or have a petting zoo at their little fingertips that are constantly in their mouths. She pays for everything and the downfall is that she wants Ri’s attention the whole day or the bragging rights of that’s my pumpkin.

“She’s off spoiling my child, but I think we’ll both live.”

Cole and Timmy walk through the front double doors. Their hands are filled with strings; bright pink and purple latex balloons and several shiny mylar fairies. The largest one has to be two feet tall with a colorful fairy holding a cupcake.

“I’m surprised you didn’t blow away.”

Timmy lets his batch to the ceiling, adjusting his ratty old hat over his bushy brown hair. It looks like he’s dreaming of a mullet, but can’t quite make it happen.

“Where’s the cake? I’m gonna need to stack on a few pounds before I load them back into the car later.” He rubs his belly. If he didn’t have the muscle for riding, he would weigh less than me.

“Go ahead. Touch that cake. I dare you,” I taunt.

Colleen would have his head.

“Where’s Ri?” Cole’s brows near.

“The face painting lady is here. Your mom insisted she have her butterfly painted before the other kids get here. She’s set up on the patio.” I look at the rear double doors that lead to the small patio with outdoor furnishings and a swing set.

“River is out there too,” Lauren flicks her eyes to the door, telling her husband to check on their four-year-old.

“I’m going to ask where Mom wants these.” He looks up at the display of balloons and slowly releases them to the ceiling, then walks between the dressed tables toward Riley with Timmy in tow.

Lauren pats her sleeping child’s booty, rocking him in her arms. “How are things with Cole?” She side-eyes to the right.

“Okay, I guess.”

“You know, Amber is pissed that you’re still with him.”

“She’ll get over it.”

“She cares about you. We all do and don’t want to see you hurt again.”

“I know.”

“Are you going to consoling or did you look into that program online I was talking about?”

“No. I guess I should talk to him about it.”

“It would be better to do something now while you’re doing well instead of waiting till shit hits the fan again.”

“Sometimes I like when shit hits the fan.”

“Ew.”

“I know, you get splattered, but it’s like...when we hit these lows and everything explodes, we passionately find each other again. If we don’t have the lows, I feel like it’s going to get boring...I...like he’s going to stop going out of his way to show me he cares.”

“Girl, that’s called toxic.”

“No it’s not. We’re not smacking each other around.”

“You need to talk to him about it.”

“That I agree on. It’s been good lately.” I sigh. “And I don’t want to throw a rock in it.”

“You’ll feel like a rock got thrown at you if you don’t start talking. I love you and Cole together. You’re so good when you’re happy...and awful when you’re fighting.”

“She’s never going to leave his ass.” Amber drops a pastel gift bag in the middle of the table and pulls her sweatshirt off. “It feels like summer out there.”

“It is almost June.”

“Yeah, well as much as I’d love it if you finally left Cole, I need someone to hang out with at tomorrow’s race. So, at least wait till it’s over to break up again.”

“Andy’s doing well this season.”

“Yeah, on second thought, fight with Cole. Knock him off his game and Andy might have a chance at beating him.”

“I could hand him the documents an hour before the green flag and it wouldn’t affect him.”

“Timmy goes into that tunnel zone any time I ask him to fix something around the house. Somehow every time, he must’ve not heard me ask,“ she mocks.

Melody walks in, holding a bottle of wine in each hand. “Red or white?” She cheers.

“This is a four-year-old’s birthday party,” Amber snorts.

“Yeah, they get a little bubbly to celebrate and so do we. Don’t argue with me, Amber. I’ve had a long week dealing with cranky old women—”

“Ezra can’t be older than twenty-six.” I poke fun at her new boyfriend.

“Oh, you’re hilarious. She’s got the jokes.”

“I am the funny one in the group. Amber’s the bitchy one, Lauren’s the mom, and you’re the one who complains about wiping asses for twelve hours a day.”

“I only wipe asses for like two hours, and it’s a fulfilling job...it just sucks a lot of the time.”

Laughter breaks out amongst us as Cole and Timmy walk back inside with their orders from Colleen.

“Stop making fun of me, Max,” Timmy calls.

“I know this is a fairy party, but it has nothing to do with how you sit on your bike.” I deadpan.

“Did you call me a fairy?”

“If the flutter fits.”

“I did that one time,” his voice perks up. He should have never tried to imitate Deadpool.

“Pictures last forever.”

“That’s it.” He pulls out his phone, paging through it. “If I’m a fairy, what are you?”

Oh, shit.

I bury my face in my palms.

“Wipeout.” When old nicknames come back to haunt you.

He holds the phone up, showing everyone the video of me repeatedly wiping Cole’s bike out. The video resurfaced on Facebook last year. How he still had that old phone stashed with the charger almost blows my mind, but then again, it’s Timmy. I’d bet any money that when he moved out of his parent’s house, he shoved everything in a box and put it in his garage, only to look at it many years later because Lauren wanted him to work on something and he needed to look too busy to do it. Bet he found a blunt in this box too and spent the entire night laughing at the color of his helmet.

“The Fairy and The Wipeout. Sounds like we should be the party entertainment.”

“Clowns,” Cole shakes his head.

It’s all fun and games. I’m not as bad now as I was the first week on a bike. It’s been a decade. It would be pretty bad if my skills never improved. I can live with the jokes.

Two glasses of wine, more than enough unwrapped gifts, and cake in everyone’s mouth; I’m ready to call it and pack up. I walk around the table full of toys—that Riley doesn’t need—tripping over a bag that was apparently sticking out from underneath the table. Clipping my foot, down I go, landing on my hands.

“The return of Wipeout,” Timmy calls from across the room. I swear that little fucker was waiting for the ultimate opportunity for years. I shrug it off, laughing at my superficial injury.

I brush my hands off, getting caught in a shadow. Cole towers over me. “Max, get up,” he grumbles under his breath. “I don’t know why you thought it would be a good idea to drink.”

I stare at him with my mouth hanging. “Ah, I’m not drunk. Someone put this bag under here and didn’t see it.”

“Whatever. Go have a good time with your friends while I pack the truck up.” He grabs handfuls of bags, looping strings around his wrists to gather as many as humanly possible in a single trip.

“What is your problem?” My chest tightens.

“Nothing,” he mutters, glaring up at me and walking away.

I follow him, certain that we are being watched. For so long they saw the perfect picture—Cole’s family—and now they’re all finally seeing the x-ray of the painting. It’s not authentic. Past the varnish lies layers and layers of paint put together to create something pretty. I’m sorry, but life isn’t pretty. It has beautiful moments. Mine has plenty of ugly ones.

Cutting in front of him, I pull the door open and hold it.

“You’re pissed at me because I have a few glasses of wine?” I huff, quietly.

He walks past me, over to the truck, trying to drop the tailgate on his own while juggling. I push in front of him, squeeze the latch, and open it. His eyes roll up, twisted in hate.

“You’re carrying on with your friends like you’re at the bar while I take care of everything else.”

“Are you serious? I was having an enjoyable conversation and your mom had everything handled.” A heavy breath curves through my lips. “I can’t win, ever. If I try to do something, I’m told to back off because Colleen is taking care of it, and when I let her, I’m not doing enough? What do you want from me?” The overwhelming urge to scream at the top of my lungs pushes through more and more, closer and closer. “I’m trying to be what everyone wants me to be and I’m sick of it. I don’t want to sacrifice my happiness anymore. And I was playing with Ri every time she ran over to me and watching her, taking pictures of her, so don’t you even say I was—”

“I saw you on your phone. It didn’t look like you were taking pictures.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The fucking guy that you have more conversations with than you have with me,” he growls, stepping into my space.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. You’ll make up any excuse to prove I’m the bad guy and you’re the selfless one. I deserve happiness, Cole.”

“I gave you everything! Everything, Max!” He slams his hands down. They crash against the steel and knots form in my stomach. “You wanted to marry me and I bought the fucking ring. You wanted to be a mom, you wanted to change careers, you wanted—”

“I wanted you to be present!” We couldn’t get closer, challenging each other with every word. This is what we do. We push each other to the edge and see who will break first.

“I come home to you every night. I could be out fucking other women or going to the bar, but I go to work and then the track and home, every night.” Would you like a pat on the back for being a decent human?

“And you sit on your phone and shower and go to bed with our only conversation being over dinner, Cole.”

“I’m tired and that’s the only time I get to sit down and do nothing. I don’t want to come home and do chores or rub your feet.”

“I just want you to act like I exist!” I back away, swinging my arms up and back to my sides.

“Uh, Colleen told me to bring these bags out and I didn’t want to tell her no.” Cole looks through me like I’m made of glass, the same as his fucking icy heart.

Fictional men are the only men worth my time. Men in this world take more than they give, and I give more than they deserve. Men in this world can be perfect one day and the next, they’re the guys in the story you hope the author knocks off before the second book in the series and she doesn’t. Instead, she redeems him to the point that you love him even when he disappoints you for a second time.

A SUV pulls in next to us and the window rolls down. Great.

“If you’re here to pick up your miserable wife, you can take mine too,” Cole calls to Andy.

“I see I made it for the best part of the party,” he laughs.

Timmy walks around me, dropping his bag collection on the tailgate.

All men suck.

I walk away, not caring how pissy I look. I’m not going back in there for Colleen to tell me I’m a shit parent too.

An empty staircase on the side of the building calls my name to hide in the shadows just as my phone pings in the most annoying tone.

What now? Ugggh. Can’t I be left alone for five minutes? I need five minutes. That’s it.

Oh…

A second of relief.

And it washes away with infernal bricks to my lungs.

Another man.

He sent me a voice message. Oh, great. What’s it going to say?

I turn my volume down and hit the play button, holding my phone to my ear. He sounds like he’s chewing non-existent gum and wearing a Pink Ladies jacket.

“Whose house are we burning down?”

Nooo. He’s not supposed to be able to make me laugh. I’m tempted to sing Grease Lightning back to him, but I can’t stay on pitch to save my life.

Oh my God, Ryke.

I type, then erase it, type again, then hit the delete button once more.

The three little dots come up and disappear.

The dots travel my screen, then fall.

Why’d I say that? I shouldn’t have said that.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

“Amber, pleeease don’t say it.” I rub down my face, not giving a damn if my makeup smears. Then stand, pushing my phone into my back pocket.

“You know if you ever need a place to stay, you have a bed any time you need.” My heartache reflects in her brown eyes. Her sympathy eats at me. I’m sorry. I hate that we do this. That I do this. I understand why she hates him. I won’t give her another reason tonight.

“I’m fine. We’re fine.” I smile and nod before walking off.

My skin prickles and I hold everything inside. They don’t need to know… but I want to run inside that building, grab a bottle of wine, and leave. I want to disappear into the woods and drown every ounce of pain. Shouldn’t take much since I hardly drink these days.

I won’t. If I fall, she falls.

I squat down as Riley runs up to me with a balloon tied to her wrist.

“Happy birthday, sweet pea! Did you have fun?”