Chapter 9 - Max
I watch Naomi get into her car and my heart squeezes. I drop my head into my hands and take a deep breath. I feel like I’ve made a mistake. I shouldn’t have asked that of her. I shouldn’t have put her in that position. She must think I’m completely crazy.
But what else can I do?
I just need time. My parents will be here tomorrow at the latest, and they’ll want to know who the girl in the photo is. If I tell them she was just a girl I met at the bar, they’ll cut me off. If I tell them the truth, that she’s my physical therapist and that nothing is happening between us… well, they clearly didn’t want to hear anything I had to say. And if they don’t believe me, the consequences are too steep.
I can’t give up my entire life, my job, my income for something like this. I’ve already lost everything once, I can’t go through that again. I just need time to figure out my next move.
Naomi said she’d think about it, but what will she decide?
I’ll pay her, of course I will. I don’t give a fuck about the money. But the way she looked at me… I don’t want her to think less of me.
Between last night and today, it might be too late.
She told me that under different circumstances, she’d have been all over me. Even if that wasn’t a joke, I’m pretty sure I’ve burned that bridge forever now. I might have to find a new physical therapist after all.
I grab the coffee cup and head out towards my car. It only takes a few minutes for me to get to Joel’s house. He greets me in his boxers, with the face of someone who was out all night.
“Hey,” he grunts. “You look like hell.”
I chuckle. “You clearly haven’t looked in the mirror, then.”
“Fuck,” he groans, collapsing onto the couch. His hand flies to his forehead. “What happened last night?”
“I left pretty early.”
“With the physio? I saw you walk out with her.”
“Nah.”
Joel’s eyes widen and he looks at me. “She turned you down?”
“It’s not like that.”
“Right.” He coughs, clutching his stomach and groaning. “I’m never drinking again.”
I get up and get two glasses of water. Joel accepts it gingerly before gulping half of it down.
“So what happened?”
Instead of answering, I pull out my phone. I get the photos on the Post’s website up and turn the screen towards him. Joel frowns, staring at the pictures and trying to get his eyes to focus.
“What’s this?”
“Fucking paparazzi.”
“They’re still after you? Why do they care about you?”
“Fucked if I know.”
“So? What’s the big deal.”
“My parents have seen it.”
Joe’s mouth drops into a small ‘oh’, and he nods. “They think she’s ‘the One’?”
“They don’t think that. They’re sure of that. They’re coming to the city tomorrow to meet her.”
“What?!”
“Yeah.”
“What are you going to do?”
I shrug, sighing. “I asked her to pretend.”
Joel sits up, planting his hands on his knees. He leans forward, staring at me as if he’s seeing me for the first time.
“You asked your physical therapist to pretend to be your fiancée so that your parents wouldn’t freak out about you being in the papers with some random woman again?”
I chuckle. “That about sums it up, yeah.”
“You’re a fucking lunatic.”
“Apple, tree, you know how it goes. They said they’d cut me off if I didn’t take this seriously.”
Joel leans back, staring at the wall in front of him. “So what did she say?”
“Who?”
He rolls his eyes, looking at me like I’m denser than lead. “The physio, dickhead. What did she say when you proposed to her?”
“Her name is Naomi.”
Joel takes another sigh, staring up at the ceiling as if he’s praying for patience. “Fine. Well what did Naomi say when you fucking proposed to her.”
I’m kind of enjoying pushing his buttons. I know he just wants the best for me, and he’s being a good friend, but my head is a mess and seeing Joel get frustrated over something simple is the most entertainment I’ve had all day.
“She said she’d think about it.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
We’re silent for a while. Joel groans as he pushes himself up, reappearing with two cans of beer. He hands me one, grinning.
“I didn’t shake this one up, I promise.”
“What happened to ‘never drinking again’?”
“I reconsidered.”
I glance at my watch. “I guess it’s after twelve, so we can drink now.”
“I don’t care what time it is, I need a drink to take the edge off this hangover.”
“You know all that does is prolong the hangover, right?”
Instead of answering, he just cracks open the beer. I chuckle and do the same. When the cold beer hits my tongue, I close my eyes and lean back.
“So,” Joel starts. “Basically, you’re fucked. You have to pretend to be engaged to Naomi in order to keep your job and your inheritance. When and if your parents find out that the engagement is all fake, they’ll cut you off anyway.” He holds up the beer. “Your fake engagement is just like having a beer to cure a hangover.”
“Or, they’ll never find out.”
“What’s your end game, here? Leave her at the altar?”
Ouch.
“Look, your past with women hasn’t exactly been perfect either.”
“We’re not talking about me right now,” Joel grins. “I’m not trying to be a dick here. I know why you asked her. But it just seems like maybe it would be a better idea to just talk to your parents?”
“Have you met my parents?”
Joel laughs. “Fair point,” he says. “They’re almost as bad as mine.”
“The ‘girls from the club’ were calling my mom all morning.”
Joel groans. “My mom was probably the first one on the phone to her.”
“It’s a miracle we turned out normal.”
“Are we normal?” Joel laughs. “You’re considering fake-marrying your physio just so your parents don’t cut you out of your inheritance and job. That doesn’t exactly seem normal.”
“Shut up, Joel.”
Joel just laughs and fumbles for the remote. He flicks the TV on and finds the sports channel. “Football’s about to start. Text Connor and Graham, tell them to bring some food.”
“Alright.”
For now, at least, I can think about football and I can forget about Naomi, my parents, weddings—all of it. Or at least, I think I can forget about it, until my college ex-girlfriend’s face pops up on the screen.
“And newly engaged couple, Farrah Harris and the New York Giants Quarterback, Elijah Matthews. Congratulations to the happy couple.”
I groan. Joel glances at me, then back at the screen.
“Well, at least she got the husband she wanted,” I say bitterly.
“What a fucking gold digger,” Joel spits. He was there when she left me the day after my injury, and she saw her chase after the next star quarterback. Looks like she’s made it all the way to the top. I reach down towards my knee, massaging the sore tissue as I stare at her smiling face.
It feels like she’s smiling at me, spiting me through the television.
Joel reaches over and puts a hand on my shoulder.
“Look at the bright side, Max. At least you’re engaged now, too.”
I punch his arm and he yelps as he laughs, throwing his hands up. I can’t help but grin with him, and I breathe a sigh of relief when Farrah’s face disappears from the screen.
This week, I just can’t get away from weddings, engagements, women, and heartbreak.