I sighed. “I guess. But the other thing is, it’s not fair to the other person. I don’t know if I can give Max the same thing a truly single person could, you know?”
“You said you told him the deal between you and Gabriel? What was his response?”
“He asked if I was looking to get even or looking to see what else was out there.”
“And what did you say?”
“I was honest and said I wasn’t sure.”
“He was okay with that?”
I nodded. “He said he just wanted to know what he was in for.”
“You want to know what I would do?”
I tilted my head. “Probably not. You’re a little off your rocker these days.”
“True. But I’m going to tell you anyway. I think you should fuck his brains out—have an affair, or whatever you want to call it.”
I couldn’t say the idea of getting hot and sweaty with Max Yearwood didn’t appeal to me. In fact, the thought of it made my belly do a little dip. I was exhausted today because I hadn’t been able to fall asleep when I got home last night. Lust had coursed through my veins just imagining those big, blue eyes looking down at me. I bet his thighs were muscular from all that skating, too. He was just so big and broad—nothing like Gabriel, who had a lean, runner’s body. Again, I imagined what Max might look like naked. But I forced that thought from my mind with a few blinks.
When my eyes came into focus again, I found Maggie with the dirtiest grin.
“You were just imagining it, weren’t you?”
“No.” I answered waaay too fast.
She smirked. “Sure you weren’t. You know what I’m going to do?”
“What?”
“I’m going to get one of those little electronic scoreboards and hang it right over there.” She pointed to the wall opposite my desk. “Maybe if I tally how many times Gabriel bones someone and make it a competition, I’ll get the home team off the sidelines and back into the action. You’ll never be able to handle losing.”
While she was right that I liked to win, I wasn’t sure racking up numbers would make me feel like I was winning anything with Gabriel.
Luckily, our conversation was cut short before Maggie could delve deeper. My admin, Ellie, knocked on my office door and opened it.
“Mark Atkins has arrived for your ten o’clock meeting. He said he came early because he has a lot of prototypes to set up, so I put him in the conference room and told him I’d check on him in a bit.”
“Okay, great. Thank you, Ellie.”
I’d been working on a new product line with the vendor who made my vases. I thought it would be cool if people could keep their roses for a year and have them change colors. So we designed a vase with a removable bottom panel. Different interchangeable bottoms could be purchased that contained dye wells designed to infuse the stems of the roses with new color. After a few months with white roses, you could unscrew the bottom panel, insert a pink dye well, and twenty-four hours later, voilà: pink roses. It could be done a few times if you went from light colors to dark.
Maggie rubbed her hands together. “Today is turning out to be awesome already. You’re going to bang a hot hockey player, and we’re going to see your idea come to life.”
“I didn’t say I was going to see Max again.”
She winked and got up. “You didn’t have to. I’m going to go check if Mark needs help. You finish up your fantasy, and I’ll come get you when he’s ready.”
• • •
I’d missed two calls during the meeting today. The first was from Gabriel, who had left a voicemail. The second was Max, who hadn’t. I found myself a tad disappointed that it wasn’t the other way around. Nevertheless, I waited until I got home that night to press play and listen to Gabriel’s message.
“Hey, babe. Just checking in. I spoke to my publisher today, and he liked the early stuff I sent him on the book I’ve started working on. Of course, he liked the first one enough to buy two books and the first one flopped, so him liking it doesn’t actually mean much. But it’s better than him not liking it, I suppose. Anyway, we haven’t talked in a while, and I miss you. I’m sure you’re probably working late, busy kicking ass and taking names, but give me a call when you have time. Love you.”
I frowned and unzipped the back of my skirt, tossing it on the bed. After my trip to Paris, where I’d found out Gabriel had actually started dating and had slept with other women, I’d stopped being the one to initiate contact. Seems I didn’t feel like making all the effort anymore. So my every-other or every-third-day phone calls with Gabriel had dwindled to once a week or less. I wasn’t even sure if Gabriel had noticed the change. But so much bothered me about his message today. First, “I’m sure you’re probably working late…” It must be nice to assume that and not imagine I’m in bed with someone else. Because that’s certainly what had run through my head when I thought about him lately. And second, it irked me that he was calling to tell me good news about his publisher. We’d gotten engaged when he sold his book and separated when it flopped. It made me feel like the way I was treated depended on external circumstances. Is that how it would always be? The health of our relationship relying on his career successes and failures? How had I only realized this in hindsight?