“Excuse me, but aren’t you the Max Allen?”

I had heard that question so many times from women up and down New York City and, quite honestly, it never got old. For instance, hearing it right now from the cute-as-a-button blonde who I dubbed “Pixie,” because her hair was cut shorter than mine.

“Yes, that would be me.”

Normally, I might ask for a name, but I could not give a flying fuck what her name was. I was still in a bit of a weird mood from my day today…specifically my day with Daphne. So all I was trying to do was get Pixie to fulfill my drink order before my brother Trevor arrived. He had texted me a little while ago asking if I wanted to meet up for an early happy hour. I could not have said yes any faster if I tried. Actually, now that I think of it, Trevor was kind dodgy about the reason he wanted to meet since it wasn’t like him to ask me to hang out. It was always the other way around.

The bartender, AKA Pixie still wasn’t moving to get my drinks. Instead, she leaned into the bar and rested her chin on her elbow. Batting her eyelashes, she said, “Hi, it’s so nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, same here.”

I did my best to smile. Even that was a chore. Because she kept on staring at me like was I the goose that had laid the golden egg. And I guess to her, I was exactly that.

“Do you think you could make my drinks, miss?”

She giggled like a schoolgirl. “Oh, yeah, right. Sorry. And please, call me Gwen.”

Her name could have been Amanda Huginkiss and I wouldn’t care or remember. Because to me, she would forever be known as Pixie. I’d had a habit of doing that with women for as long as I can remember. Not to be a total douche, but for someone like me, it got incredibly confusing and tiresome to remember who was who. So, I’d give anyone completely inconsequential to my life a nickname that would stick.

Pixie finally put our beers on the bar just as Trevor slapped me on the back hard. “What’s up, loser. How’s it going?”

“Same shit, different day. How about you?”

“Good, good. Can’t complain.”

We clinked glasses and both took a good long drink of our beers. “Is this a Summer Ale? Already?” Trevor asked.

“Trev, I’m sure you don’t give a damn whether it’s Oktoberfest or Summer Ale. So cut the small talk and get to the point.”

“Damn, someone’s in a bad mood,” he told me. “What crawled up your ass and died?”

“Everything. Nothing. I don’t know,” I said. “Just having a bad day, I guess. Doesn’t matter.”

“All righty then. That took a turn,” he mumbled under his breath before taking another drink of his beer. “Should I even ask how the show and the new co-host thing is going?”

“It’s going.”

“That bad?” he asked. “Me and Vern watched the last episode and it seemed less—”

“Less what, exactly?”

“Relax,” Trevor said through a chuckle. “I was going to say we noticed that it seemed less strained between the two of you.”

This was slightly good news, I guess. Especially since Trevor, who normally wouldn’t notice anything unless it was right smack dab underneath his nose, could see a change between Daphne and me. Then again, maybe that was just all smoke and mirrors because of Oliver’s requests…and Adam’s awesome editing skills.

“That’s good to hear, thanks.”

“Are you sure? Because you don’t look so happy to hear shit, Max.”

I wasn’t one to share my personal life’s ins and outs with anyone. Not even my brothers, who were the closest things I had in my life to being my best friends. But it felt weird to share what had been going on with Daphne to anyone.

“Max?”

“Oh, sorry, Trev,” I said. “I zoned out there for a second.”

Trevor almost choked on the beer he had been drinking. “Dude, now I know something is up with you. Since when the fuck do you zone out?”

He was right. I never did that shit. Zoning out was for clueless people like Trevor here. The guy was famous for that kind of crap.

“I’m fine, Trev,” I told him dismissively and tried to change the subject. “So what brings you out tonight? The ball and chain let you leave her sights for a little while.”

“Just for a little bit,” he said with a wink.

“Why the fuck are you winking at me, bro?”

“I didn’t wink at you, man. It’s more like a wink for the sake of being a wink.” Trevor took a sip of his beer and then said, “Damn, you’re cranky. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” I told him. He made a face like he knew that I knew I was full of shit. “Okay, fine. But if I tell you, have to promise not to say anything to Veronica. Or Jack.”

“Why the fuck would I tell Veronica? Or Jack?”

“Because you always tell Veronica every little fucking thing there is to tell her. You’re a unit now, like Jack and Avery. Haven’t you ever noticed whatever you tell him, she ends up finding out about it?” He slowly nodded. “See? If you tell Jack something, you can bet your sweet ass that he’s going to run and tell Avery all about it as soon as he can. So, by the laws of relationship physics, whatever I tell you, I already know that you’re going to go and blab it to Veronica the moment you get a chance.”

“Huh. What about you then?”

“What about me then, what?” I asked. “And who is on first, by the way.”

He raised his beer glass to mine and gave it a little clink. “Good one, bro. But what I meant was, where do you fit into this whole game of telephone?”

Smiling, I said, “That’s the beauty of being single, Trev. I don’t have to fit in to jackshit.”

“Don’t knock it until you try it, Max.” He winked at me again, this time he did it so over the top obvious, that I had to laugh at the big idiot. “Anyway, that kind of brings me to the reason I asked for you to meet me in the first place.”

“I knew there had to be a reason. You never ask me to meet you out of the blue. So what did you do this time? Did you need me to help you grovel like the pansy ass you are for something you did wrong to get in Veronica’s good graces?”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” he asked.

“Nope.”

There was no way in hell I was ever going to forget Trevor’s stunt to win back Veronica at the beginning of their relationship. He asked me to videotape him groveling on his knees for her to take him back. And I aired it on my then cable access show. It worked, sure, but man oh man did he look like an idiot.

“Of course you’re not. Anyway, I called you here to give you the good news before anyone else. And yes, that includes Jack and Avery.” Trevor smiled and it actually looked the fucker was happy. Like he couldn’t be happier about whatever he was going to tell me if he tried. “Veronica and I are getting married…and having a baby. Not necessarily in that order.”

“Congrats, man!” I leaned in and gave him a bro hug. Patting on the back extra hard when I yelled in the bar, “Holy shit! You’re going to be a dad?!”

Trevor looked genuinely giddy like he was a little kid on Christmas morning waiting to open his presents. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I had seen him this happy in my entire life. And as cynical and full of shit I was half the time…okay, yeah, most of the time, it gave a person like me a glimmer of hope that there was someone out there for me, too.

“I’m going to be someone’s father, Max. That’s crazy, right?” he asked half serious, half joking.

“It’s crazy, yeah, but kind of awesome, too, bro!” I waved down Pixie, the bartender. She came practically bouncing over to us, just as I expected so I wouldn’t have to wait that long. “Two shots of Jameson, please.”

She poured and served them up in record time. And when she saw that neither of us was going to give her the time of day, she rolled her eyes in frustration and left us alone again.

“Here’s to being an uncle again and to you guys getting married,” I said as I raised my shot glass to his.

Trevor was grinning so wildly that he could have been the Joker’s twin. “Here’s to you being a godfather and the best man at our wedding.”

“Wait, what?! You want me to be the godfather to this kid and the best man at the wedding?! Seriously? You’re not fucking with me right now?!”

He was laughing but I was dead serious. I just automatically figured he would have asked Jack because he was older, they worked together, and he had his life together more than any of us and…I don’t know, just because I would probably pick Jack, too, dammit. He’s the most responsible, the most reliable, and the most knowledgeable about life and shit.

“I’m not fucking with you. The way I see it, if it weren’t for your help, I wouldn’t be here to begin with. And Veronica feels the same way, buddy.”

He raised his shot glass once more in the air with that big beaming smile of his. His happiness was kind of infectious so I raised my shot glass even higher than his. “Here’s to you and Veronica. And may your first child be a masculine child.”

“I knew you would start quoting The Godfather,” he groaned and then took the shot of whiskey with a wince.

“I’m smart! I can handle things! I’m not dumb like everybody says!”

“Okay, I get it. Now please stop with The Godfather quotes.”

“The moment I stop, they pull me back in.” Grinning like the annoying little brother I was, I kicked back the shot of whiskey and slammed the glass onto the bar. “Fine, I’ll take a break on the movie quotes. For now.”

“All right, so I don’t mean to chew and screw. But I have to run. Veronica’s not been feeling too good with the morning sickness and I promised her I would pick her up some concoction of ginger and tofu shit over in Chinatown before heading home. Wish me luck,” he said and went to fish out a couple of bills from his wallet.

“Your money is no good here, Trev. It’s on me.”

He leaned in to give me a bro-hug goodbye and said, “Thanks, Max. Next time it’s on me.”

“Next time, dinner and drinks are on you.”

“You got it. See you soon.”

I tracked the back of Trevor’s head the whole way out of the bar until he disappeared out unto the city streets.

The smile on my face was still planted there thanks to his news. I was genuinely happy for him and Veronica. Along with Jack and Avery, they were the only other couple I knew of that seemed to be made for each other.

Wait a second…made for each other…where had I heard that before?

While I tried to remember where the hell I had heard that phrase recently, the bartender came over and leaned in front of me against the bar on her elbows. I already could tell that she purposely was trying to squeeze her tits together to show off her cleavage. Which, yeah, she had a great rack and I could motorboat her for days if given the chance.

“Are you all alone again, handsome?” Pixie asked.

For a second, I thought, why not? Take her into the backroom or the bathroom and fuck the living daylights out of her. I’d definitely get off, and she might get off if I was in a giving mood. I already knew I wasn’t in any such mood, but whatever. And then just as I was turning the idea over in my mind, that phrase popped in my head again: made for each other. More than that, I finally remembered where I had heard it before: Oliver’s office, and it was in relation to Daphne and me. We were, according to some random viewer, “made for each other.” Which was funny, since at the time Oliver told us that, we both hated each other. Now a few weeks later, that hate seems to have developed into something else between us. And that something else had been driving me nuts lately. Not because Daphne was annoying—because she was, as she always would be if I had to guess. It was because that something else was the attraction I felt for her that I had never felt with any woman before her. That alone should scare the shit out of me. But it didn’t at all. In fact, it made me want to pursue her more than ever. And it was enough for me to look Pixie straight in the eyes and tell her, “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve got to go see about a girl.”

I threw a few bills on the bar that I knew covered the tab and left Pixie with a nice enough tip. As I walked through the crowd, I was already fishing my phone out of my pocket before I stepped outside.

Something told me she was still in the office. That something might be because she was a bit of workaholic. I was too, but even I could admit that my work ethic wasn’t anywhere near Daphne’s level. I respected and kind of hated her for it. Either way, I took a chance that she was still within walking distance and not on some subway car halfway to Queens right now.

After I typed my message, I double and triple checked it to make sure it covered all my bases. It couldn’t sound like I was coming off as prick-like or too demanding. At the same time, I had to sound confident. And more than anything, the text needed to convey how much I wanted her for the right reasons without making it seem like I was desperate. After reading it again for what felt like the hundredth time, I pressed send knowing that my text was going to hit all the right buttons with Daphne. Either that, or she was going to hate me just a little bit more than she did yesterday.