Chapter 11 - Max
I pace back and forth across my living room, checking the time for the thousandth time. She said she’d come here when she got back to the city, but it’s almost ten o’clock at night and she’s not here yet. How long does dinner with her mom usually take?!
This is a mistake.
I shouldn’t be putting her in this position. I should just man up and talk to my parents. They shouldn’t be forcing a wife on me, anyways!
I slump down on the couch and drop my head in my hands. A bead of sweat runs down the back of my neck, and my heart feels like it’s beating erratically. I massage my temples, keeping my eyes closed as I take deep breaths through my nose.
I’ve gone around in circles ever since my parents called this morning. I don’t have a choice. I’ve heard that tone in my father’s voice before, and he never backs down from it.
He was serious when he said he’d cut me off and fire me if I kept up my lifestyle. But that shouldn’t mean I have to marry a woman I’m not even dating! We were just in a picture together, nothing more.
I blow the air out of my nose and stare at the ceiling. This is the only way. I just need to make it through this visit from them, and then I can make up some story about Naomi and I parting ways. That will buy me enough time to figure out how to handle my parents.
A knock on the door makes me jump. I stand up, my bare feet sinking into the thick rug for a moment as I stare at the door.
This is it.
My heart is hammering and my mouth is suddenly dry. Even though this is insane, even though this is a ridiculous situation to be in, there’s a part of me that’s excited to see Naomi.
She’s here.
I get to talk to her without the stark fluorescent lights of the physio office beaming down on us, without the thumping music from the bar beside us, without prying eyes and flashing cameras.
Just her, and me.
My palms are sweaty, so I wipe them on my jeans as I walk to the door. Taking a deep breath, I put my hand on the doorknob and turn.
“Hey,” she says.
My heart drops to my stomach. Naomi’s eyes are shining with tears, and her skin, typically smooth as porcelain, is blotchy and red. Her hands are clasped in front of her as if she’s trying to stop them from trembling.
This isn’t what I wanted. A lump forms in my throat and I struggle to swallow past it.
“Hey,” I croak.
“Can I come in?”
I step aside, closing the door behind her. She kicks off her shoes before I can tell her to keep them on, lining them up against the wall next to the front door. Her eyes sweep across my apartment and I see a slight lifting of her eyebrows.
“Nice place.”
“Thanks. Beer?”
“Sure.”
We don’t speak while I go to the fridge. She takes a seat at the kitchen island, accepting the green bottle of beer with a nod. She takes a sip, closing her eyes and drinking as if she needs the liquid courage.
My heart squeezes.
This isn’t what I intended.
“Look, Naomi,” I start. “I think this was a mistake. You… I don’t want to put you in this position.”
“In what position?”
I open my mouth and close it again, leaning against the counter across from her. Taking a deep breath, I choose my words carefully.
“You don’t seem like you want this. To… to marry me. Or pretend to marry me, I mean.”
“Tell me about your parents,” she replies suddenly. “Why did you ask me to do this? Why can’t you just talk to them?”
We stare at each other for a moment, and a bitter snort escapes me. I shake my head.
“Where do I start?”
“At the beginning.”
I grin, nodding my head towards the couch in the living room. She follows me, and I sit down on one end of the three-seater while she sits at the far end, tucking one leg underneath her and resting her chin on her other knee. She’s curled herself into a tiny ball, with her long, red hair falling like a curtain over her shoulder.
Even with a bright red nose and sadness in her eyes, she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. All I want to do is reach over and wrap my arms around her. I want her to tell me why she’s so sad, why she decided to accept my proposal. I want to know what she’s thinking and what she’s scared of.
But I can’t ask her anything. She’s staring at me, waiting for me to speak. So I do what she said: I start at the beginning.
“My parents started a company when they were in their twenties. My mother borrowed a bunch of money from her father, who ran an import-export business, and my father was a clever, ambitious young man. They built the company up to what it is now. They supply all kinds of materials for huge construction projects on the entire eastern seaboard.”
I take a sip of my beer, glancing over at Naomi. Her eyes are glued on my face, as if she’s listening to the things I’m saying and the things I’m not saying, all at once.
“I’m an only child. I found out a couple years ago that my mom miscarried a bunch of times, and finally they had me when they were almost forty. I was their golden child.”
“I’m an only child, too,” Naomi says softly. I look at her, nodding. “Sorry,” she continues. “Go on.”
“Well, they handed me the world. I went to the best schools. They wanted me to study business and come and work for them. They wanted me to get married and do what they had done—make something of myself and become the next generation of Westbrook ‘power couples’. But then, I fell in love with football. To their credit, my parents embraced it. Maybe they saw it as an opportunity to be a different kind of ‘power couple’. I had the best coaches, trainers—everything. By the time I went to college, I was already being scouted by NFL teams.”
I take another sip of beer, trying to ignore the pang in my chest.
“Then your knee happened,” Naomi finishes for me.
I nod, not wanting to meet her eye. If I look at her, the mist in my eyes might turn to real tears. “My knee happened. I was dating this girl, and she left me the next day, as soon as the doctor told me I’d never play football again.”
“Max…”
I shake my head, swallowing past the lump that’s re-appeared in my throat.
“It’s fine. I graduated, my parents gave me a good job, and now I’m working my way up their company. I have everything. They’ve given me everything.”
“Have you told them you don’t want to get married?”
I snort. “Yeah, I’ve told them. They don’t get it. All they see is their society, where the women have their own power circles and the men have theirs. Single people don’t make it.”
I turn and look at Naomi again. She’s unfolded her legs and is leaning against the couch’s arm, resting her cheek against her closed fist. Her other hand is playing with the beer label, and she’s staring out the windows at the twinkling lights of the New York skyline.
“So why’d you say yes?” I ask. “Last night, you said you didn’t believe in marriage.”
Naomi flinches, as if my words hurt her physically. My heart squeezes.
She takes a deep breath and then shrugs. “I got some bad news, and two hundred and fifty grand would solve a lot of problems.”
She looks at me and I see the depth of pain in her eyes. I want to go to her, to wrap my arms around her and bury my nose in her hair. I want to kiss her forehead and rub her spine and tell her it’ll all be okay. I want to give her as much money as she needs to fix whatever problems she has.
But I don’t do any of that. I just nod.
“Okay,” I say.
Naomi relaxes, as if she was worried I would pry. A small smile appears on her face, and she starts chuckling. She shakes her head, laughing a little bit harder.
“What?” I say, chuckling confusedly.
“I don’t know,” she laughs. “This is so ridiculous.”
I grin. “I know.”
She laughs, brushing her hair over her shoulder and shaking her head some more. She scratches the back of her head and looks out the window, deep in thought. She takes a long drink of beer, and then turns to me, pointing the bottle towards me.
“But I’m not going to sleep with you just because we’re engaged. That’s where I draw the line. That would be too complicated.”
I grin. “Deal. You might have to kiss me in public to make it convincing, though.”
A blush spreads over her cheeks, and heat blooms between my legs. Fuck, she’s gorgeous. She turns towards me, scooting closer on the couch.
I move closer to her as well, until there’s only a foot of space between us. She turns towards me, leaning forward and crawling her fingers towards me. She licks her lips and my heart thumps. Her eyes are shining with something, and I can’t think about anything except how good it would feel to kiss her.
I lean towards her, my heart hammering against my ribcage. I smell the sweet floral scent that follows her everywhere, and feel the heat of her body. Her face is just inches from mine, and my heart is beating so fast that I think it might explode.
We’re only inches apart, and I can feel her soft breath washing over my skin. Her eyes are wide and bright, and her lips are so fucking inviting.
This is what I’ve been dreaming of. This is the exact moment that I’ve been hoping for for almost a week. I inch closer, and then—
Knock! Knock! Knock!
We jump apart at the sound of banging on the door.
“Max! Open up!” My mother’s voice floats through the closed door, and Naomi’s eyes widen. My stomach drops as I jump to my feet.
“Who is that?!” Naomi hisses, staring at the door.
I take a deep breath, following her gaze. “That is my mother.”