Chapter 26 - Naomi
After the excitement of our first few days as an ‘engaged’ couple, life with Max becomes somewhat normal. We’re almost like a real couple.
Well, I guess we are a real couple. I sleep over at his place—he doesn’t come to mine so much, since mine is smaller and further away from both our workplaces. We go on dates, we watch Netflix and movies in the evenings.
There’s still a little voice in my head that says ‘this is a bad idea’. Besides the obvious—what happens when the month is over?—there’s so many things that could go wrong. What if someone finds out? What if his parents catch on? What if my mom finds out?
What if Max changes his mind?
Is any of this real? He’s paid me so much money, but I try not to think about that. It doesn’t seem to bother him at all. He never mentions it once the contract is signed and the money has been paid. After a little while, I stop thinking about it, too.
Once his parents leave, the media attention dies down and we just live our lives.
About a week after my mother’s surprise visit, she calls me while I’m at Max’s to tell me she’ll be in the city and she wants to meet Max. I sigh, knowing that I won’t be able to get out of it. She may not approve of weddings, or marriages, or me getting married, but she’ll still want to meet a guy I’m supposed to be engaged to.
I get off the phone and look over at Max as he stands in the kitchen. His eyebrow is arched. He grabs a hot tortilla and places it on a plate for me, nodding to skillet full of chicken.
“What’s going on? Fajitas are ready.”
“They smell delicious,” I say, jumping up. “I never knew you were such a good cook.”
“Was that your mom on the phone? How is she doing?”
“She’s doing pretty well,” I say, spooning some chicken onto my tortilla. I can feel Max’s eyes on me, but I ignore him. Instead, I focus on the cheese and salsa for my fajita. Priorities, right?
“Sounded like she wanted something,” he prompts.
I chuckle. “She wants to meet you, actually.” I keep my eyes on my food. I can feel his gaze on me, and I finally drag my eyes over to him.
“You don’t seem too happy about that,” he grins.
“Are you?”
“Well, you are my fiancée.”
“Fake fiancée.”
“And you’ve met my parents, so it’s only fair that I would meet yours, too.”
My heart thumps and his eyes flash. I shake my head, finally letting myself laugh.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“What?” He says, turning to his own tortilla. It’s his turn to focus on the chicken as his lips twitch into a grin.
“You’re enjoying torturing me like this,” I laugh.
“Torture!”
“Yes, torture,” I say, wrapping my arms around his waist. “This was all just some elaborate ploy to get me to go out with you.”
“You caught me,” he laughs. He wraps his arms around me and presses his lips to mine. “I’d love to meet your mom. She sounds amazing. Just like you.”
“Smooth talker,” I laugh. A blush stains my cheeks as my heart does a backflip. Just like every other time he’s around.
So much for keeping things professional.
This is starting to feel way, way too real. But I’m not sure I’m mad about that. I don’t know how I feel, except that I’m happier with Max than I’ve been in a long time.
We eat our fajitas, and then I call my mother back. Max agrees to have her over at his place for dinner. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him gently. His tall, muscular frame feels so solid against me. He growls and I feel it vibrate through my chest, and he pulls me in with a grin.
We leave the dishes in the sink for a while—we’ve got better things to do.
The next day, I meet my mom at the entrance to Max’s apartment building. I try to keep my face neutral, but I can’t believe how much she’s changed in only a couple weeks. Thick, black bags mar the skin under her eyes, and her skin has a sallow, yellow color.
When she smiles, her skin stretches and wrinkles around her mouth and her eyes still sparkle with their old energy. She wraps her arms around me.
“You feel thin, Mom,” I say. “Have you lost weight?”
“These treatments make me lose my appetite,” she says. “It’s only been a couple weeks, but the thought of doing this for seven more weeks is a bit daunting.”
“Are you driving all the way here an all the way back every time you have an appointment?”
“What else would I do?” She laughs as I lead her towards the elevator. I press the button for the top floor and the doors open right away.
“Why don’t you stay at my place. I can stay with Max, so you’ll have the whole apartment to yourself. Just until this round of treatments are over.”
She smiles sadly, brushing the back of her hand over my cheek. “You’re so sweet, Naomi. You know I hate the city.”
“I don’t like you driving so much. Didn’t you say the nausea is getting worse?”
“I’m a grown woman,” my mother laughs. “I’ve taken care of myself for a lot longer than you have.”
I squeeze my mom’s hand as the elevator dings open and we step out onto Max’s floor. “I know, but…” I sigh. “Just let me help you.”
“I’m fine, honey.”
We walk into the apartment, and Max stands to greet us.
“Jackie! Uh, Mrs. Rose!” He smiles at my mother, taking a hesitant step forward as if he’s going to hug her. He reconsiders, sticking his hand out and nodding his chin.
My mom laughs.
Cute.
She swats his hand away and wraps her arms around his thick torso. Her head barely gets halfway up his chest, and she looks tiny and frail in his arms. He hugs her awkwardly, stepping back and clearing his throat.
“I made a roast chicken,” he proclaims, gesturing towards the oven. Mom glances at me, grinning.
“Sounds lovely,” my mom says. “And call me Jackie, please.” She smiles at him and then winks at me. My shoulders relax and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
By the time dinner is over, we’ve laughed and eaten until our stomachs are full and our eyelids are heavy. I notice my mother pushing the food around her plate as she eats even more slowly than usual. She looks absolutely exhausted. Max exchanges a glance with me, and clears his throat.
“Why don’t you stay at Naomi’s place tonight? I can drive you there, Naomi can follow with your car. Then if you want, you can head back to the country in the morning.”
My mom yawns, glancing at me and shaking her head. “Fine,” she laughs. “You’ve convinced me. I can’t see far enough to walk to your front door, let alone drive for two hours.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, smiling at Max as my heart grows in my chest. He read my mind—he’s considerate enough to realize what my mom is going through and is willing to help.
We drive Mom to my place and settle her in, and then I get into the passenger’s seat of Max’s car. I rest my head on his shoulder as we drive back to his place.
“My mom likes you,” I say as my eyes start to close.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Good,” he says, leaning his cheek against the top of my head. “I was nervous.”
I chuckle, taking a deep breath and lifting my head off his shoulder. I glance at Max’s face as heat spreads across my chest. I’m not used to all these feelings. It’s overwhelming and confusing, but it’s also nice. My hand finds his, and I give it a squeeze.
Tonight felt very real. Maybe the more we say we’re getting married, the more it feels like we will. What happens when this month is up?
Max squeezes my hand back, smiling at me. His eyes are soft and tender, and he looks at me for a long moment before turning back to the road. He lifts my fingers up to his mouth and kisses them softly as I lean back against the head rest.