Happily Never After

“THANKS FOR THE ride.”

“Of course,” I said, putting my truck in park as Rose hopped out, with Larry right behind her. I’d raced to the hospital after Sophie’s text, and by the time they let me into his room after not knowing Larry’s last name and not being family, she was already gone.

And since Rose had taken an Uber to the hospital and Larry arrived by ambulance, they both needed a ride home. “Can I walk you guys up?”

I was dying to know if Soph was home or if she’d gone back to work.

Of course, since she’d known I was coming to the hospital and left anyway, she definitely wouldn’t want to see me if she was home.

Rose grinned like she knew I only wanted to see Sophie, and I realized that was the first smile she’d ever given me. “We’re good, Max, but thank you so much.”

“You called me Max,” I said, half to myself, because she usually called me Julian.

“That’s because you don’t remind me of Julian anymore.”

“Who is Julian?” I asked.

“Famous porn star, very handsome,” Larry said, and then they turned and walked inside the building.

I honestly wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be flattered, insulted, or disgusted.

When I got to my building, I realized in my rush to get to the hospital, I’d left my wallet at work. I didn’t have my garage pass, so I had to find a spot on the street.

Goddamn it.

Impossible task downtown on a Thursday afternoon, when the entire city was at work.

I drove around and eventually found a spot a few blocks away, closer to Soph’s building than my own. After locking it up and plugging the meter, I took a good three steps before I saw it.

Fuck me.

There was Nick, her black car, parked a few spots away. It felt like a fucking gut punch, seeing her Ray-Bans on the dash and the sweater she’d worn in Detroit on the passenger seat, like a cruel reminder of what I’d probably already lost by caring too much.

When I got into my building, I had to use my key at the vestibule door, since I didn’t have my badge, and something about that pissed me off.

What a fucking terrible day.

I threw the door open when it unlocked, so hard that it slammed into the wall behind it with a loud bang.

“Dear God, you scared the crap out of me.”

My heart stopped and my entire body froze.

I turned around and there was Sophie, curled up on the oversize reading chair that sat in front the mailboxes, her eyes heavy like she’d been asleep, her heels lying on the floor in front of her.

“Hey,” I said inanely, trying to figure out what this meant, what her presence in the lobby of my building meant.

“Can you spare five minutes?” she asked, climbing to her feet and gathering her shoes.

Her face was unreadable, her hair a little wild, and I had no fucking idea what was going on.

“Of course.” I held the door for her, and neither of us said a word as we waited for the elevator and rode it up to my floor. I forced myself not to look at her—I’d already shown my cards and she knew how I felt—because the last thing I wanted was to look like a lovesick loser.

Especially when I was betting she was about to give me a let’s-forget-everything-you-said-about-feelings speech.

I unlocked the door, and as we walked inside, I said, “Do you want something to drink?”

“That depends,” she said, dropping her shoes on the floor of the entryway. “Are you going back to work today?”

I looked down at her face, at those autumn eyes, and just shook my head.

“Then please have a whiskey with me,” she said, and I wished I knew what was going on in her head.

Cookie appeared out of nowhere and weaved his way around my legs, but I didn’t have time for him at the moment.

“Well, come on, then,” I replied, walking away from her and toward the kitchen. “On the rocks?”

“Yes, please,” she said, and my shoulders were tense as I went straight for the booze cabinet and pulled down a bottle of Jameson.

Because all of a sudden it occurred to me that if she said she wanted to pretend yesterday hadn’t happened, I wasn’t sure I was willing to do that anymore.

Somehow, confessing my feelings had spoken them into an undeniable existence.

“So what’s up, Sophie?” I made our drinks with my back to her, doing my best to sound chill when I was anything but.

She cleared her throat, and I tried to ignore the smell of her perfume. “So I owe you multiple apologies.”

I turned around with our lowball glasses in hand, only to see she’d hopped up onto the kitchen counter so her bare legs were dangling over the edge.

God, she was beautiful.

“Thank you,” she said as I held out a glass to her.

“You’re welcome.” I leaned my backside against the counter behind me, facing her, and lifted the Jameson to my mouth.

“So—hang on.” She tossed hers back, pounding the two fingers in two swallows. When she set it down, she must’ve seen my raised eyebrows, because she shrugged and said, “What?”

I just shook my head and motioned for her to continue.

“The first apology is for being a shitty friend.” Sophie glanced down at her phone, resting on the counter, before saying, “I should’ve asked you if you were okay when Lilibeth resurfaced in your life, or how it made you feel that she was engaged. A good friend would’ve wanted to know what it was like talking to her after all this time, but I was jealous and selfish and wasn’t there for you. I’m sorry.”

“That’s . . . okay,” I said, shocked by her apology.

That definitely wasn’t what I’d been expecting her to say.

“I want to circle back to this and discuss because I care,” she said, glancing down at her phone again. “But I’m kind of on a mission and need to keep going, if that’s okay.”

“Did I just see bullet points on your phone?” I swear to God it appeared she was looking at a PowerPoint.

She stared at me for a minute, squinting a little as if deciding whether or not she should come clean. “I might’ve made a quick presentation grid, just to be sure I didn’t forget anything.”

“Carry on,” I said, not feeling good about the possibilities of that, though it was absolutely on-brand for her.

“I also want to apologize for taking the wedding when you asked me not to. Just like my previous point, instead of respecting your feelings, I charged forward with what I wanted to do because of my feelings.”

Her feelings. What the fuck were they?

“And that brings us to the topic of my feelings.” She glanced down at the phone again, but instead of continuing to use it as a reference, she raised it in front of her face and just started reading word for word.

Like she was regurgitating white paper information she’d read while having a lunch and learn.

“I don’t know how it happened, Max, but somehow, in spite of every attempt we made to avoid it, there are feelings between us. I cannot label your feelings, but mine are—”

“Stop,” I interrupted, taking another sip and letting the whiskey burn down my throat. I couldn’t believe she was giving me a PowerPoint breakdown of her emotions.

She looked up, a crease between her eyebrows. “What?”

“I want you to tell me how you feel.”

“I was trying,” she said defensively, with her eyebrows scrunched together, and her eyes returned to her phone. “Where was I? Oh—here.”

She cleared her throat. “I, um, I cannot label your feelings, but mine are—”

“Dear God, stop,” I groaned, unable to take any more of this.

She sighed and lowered her phone, scowling at me. “Why do you keep doing that when I’m trying to tell you how I feel?”

“Because I don’t want the fucking presentation,” I said, suddenly angry, though not really sure about what. “I want you to talk to me, to give me the unedited version of what’s going on inside your head.”

“I can’t do that,” she said, disbelief in her voice as if I’d asked for something impossible. “Because I don’t even know or understand that. What I’ve come up with, instead, is a solid—”

“No.” I slammed my drink on the counter and took a step closer. “Tell me how you feel.”

“How do I feel?” she said loudly, her eyes narrowed as she looked up at me. “I feel like shit. I feel terrified. I feel like everything has changed and nothing’s going to work out and it’s all going to explode in my face. Is that what you want me to say?”

“If it’s how you feel,” I said, frustration boiling through me at her unwillingness to open herself up to me, “then fucking yes.”

“Oh, okay,” she said in irritation, her eyes flashing. “Well, if we’re doing this, then, I should tell you that I hate the way I want to talk to you and be with you all the time. I hate that you were the only person I wanted to call after my interview and oh, yeah—the thought of you and your ex made me literally sick to my stomach. As in I puked out my car window when I heard you blew me off to see her.”

Her eyes were intense as she started going off. “My brain now associates the smell of lavender with you in the hotel shower, so that sucks, and I keep replaying mirror sex in my head all the time like a porn addict and I think I want to get a dog with you and these are all nightmarish thoughts that will absolutely destroy me.”

“But—”

“No.” She pointed a finger at my chest, eyes blazing, and bit out through gritted teeth, “It will. I know this, that it is the death knell of my fucking heart, yet I cannot stop myself from wanting it all and I don’t want to want that, Max.”

I stepped closer so I was standing between her legs, and I raised my knuckles to her flushed cheeks. I hated how anguished all of this was making her, but I couldn’t ignore the slow, buzzing burn that was building in my center as she said all the words I wanted to hear. “I know, honey.”

She took in a big, shaky breath. “And I’m scared that if we get in a relationship, I won’t know how to trust you. Like, I don’t think I can trust your feelings for me because I’m such a broken mess.”

“Steinbeck.” I ran my thumb over the soft column of her neck and said, “It’s okay to feel broken, because I am, too. And as for the rest of those amazing run-on sentences you just yelled at me—we’ll figure them out as we go.”

I looked into her eyes and admitted, “But I don’t know how to make you feel safe about us, because I don’t know how the hell I’m going to feel safe about us, either. I fucking hate it, too—I do.”

Her eyes softened at that, and she bit down on the corner of her lip.

“But, Soph, I know that I like you more than anyone else in the world. And that’s it, isn’t it—the thing that matters? Fuck love and relationships, I just want to be with you because you’re my goddamn favorite person. And I feel like it’s going to be impossible for you not to trust my feelings because you’re going to see them in my eyes every time I look at you.”

“Max—”

“Every. Single. Time,” I said, knowing it was true. “It’s already there. Just look.”

Sophie’s eyes moved all over my face, almost as if she was trying to find evidence of doubt, and then she pressed her lips together.

Shook her head.

“I can’t imagine any two people more right for each other than us. I can’t imagine any reason why we shouldn’t be together when we both feel so much for each other. Shit.” My voice cracked and I glanced around the kitchen, desperate to make a point. “See? No one is objecting, Soph.”

She blinked fast, like she was thinking hard. Please, Soph. I wished I could read her mind, especially when she sighed.

A long, deep sigh.

Almost . . . like she was accepting it . . . ?

Please, Soph.

“So, um, can I read you the conclusion of my bullet points, even though you apparently hate PowerPoint presentations?” Her mouth turned up into a shy smile, and her eyes got that Twinkie-tossing wildness that I fucking adored as she brought her legs a little closer together, closing them around me. “I think you might appreciate it.”

“I guess,” I said, setting my hands on her knees and wanting to slide her dress up so badly. “But PowerPoints are the worst.”

“I know, honey,” she said, giving me a teasing look as she reached for her phone.

“Brat.”

“Shhhh.” Sophie scrolled through a ridiculous number of slides before saying, “In conclusion, love is still a lie and I want no part of that foolish fairy tale. This thing that I feel for you, however, this friendship, undeniable chemistry, kinship, respect, admiration, happiness—or the acronym FUCKRAH, if you will—is outrageously potent and I would like to explore it further. If there is availability on your calendar, I’m very interested in having meaningful sex with you.”

She raised her eyes from her phone, looking incredibly vulnerable as she added, “But I’d like to have sex for you, this time, instead of just for me. I’d like to have sex with you, Max.”