Strong Enough

“Maybe.”

“I mean, you could have anyone,” Gage went on. “Girls have alw

ays lined up to be with you. How hard can it be to find a cute little twenty-nine-year-old neat freak who loves vacuuming and hates sand as much as you do?”

“I don’t hate sand,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I just don’t like the way it gets everywhere.”

“I’m fucking with you.” He hit me on the arm. “Look, give it some time. If it’s not happening with Carolyn, then move on. It’s bound to happen with someone.”

I nodded, tipping back the beer again before glancing over my shoulder to make sure Lanie was still in the house. Then I spoke quietly. “Do you ever get the urge to cheat on Lanie? Like, are you ever attracted to other people?”

“I wouldn’t say I have the urge to cheat.” Gage spoke softly too. “But yeah, I’m attracted to other women sometimes. I’m human. But I don’t act on it. Not worth it.”

“What do you do about it? To make it go away?”

“It sort of goes away on its own once I think about what I have with Lanie. I’ve never been so attracted to anyone I’d risk losing her or hurting my family.”

Of course not. But that didn’t help me.

Gage crossed his arms over his chest and went on. “Probably the most tempted I’ve ever been to sleep with someone I wasn’t supposed to was when I fell for Lanie. We’d been friends for so long, and I’d dated one of her roommates, and she was kind of seeing this douchebag named Brodie. There were all these reasons why we shouldn’t hook up. But I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Then one night, she broke it off with the douchebag, and I was like fuck it—I need to see what this is. We might ruin our friendship, but I need to know.”

I nodded in understanding, because I got that—the desperate urge to understand what you felt. I wished it were as simple as that between Maxim and me.

But in our case, I’m not sure I wanted to know. What good would it do me?

I stayed at Gage and Lanie’s for hours, eating and drinking and letting their kids climb all over me as the sun set behind the hills. They were noisy and sticky and their popsicles melted all over my shirt, but I didn’t mind. This was what I wanted—family and friends in the backyard on a warm summer night.

Around nine-thirty I got a text from Ellen telling me she’d bring Maxim home later, so I didn’t have to wait up to come get him. By then, the kids were getting to that sunburned-and-tired meltdown stage, so I said goodnight and headed home.

My house felt emptier than usual.

Eighteen

MAXIM

“You survived.” Ellen grinned and handed me an envelope with cash stuffed inside. “Here you go. It’s a little more than a hundred bucks. Sorry it’s not more, but it was kind of slow tonight. Eventually I’ll pay you weekly, but for now I’ll pay you at the end of your shifts.”

I couldn’t believe it. A hundred bucks, right now? That was a quarter of my rent to Derek! Even better, it was the first money I’d made in the U.S. I thumbed through it in disbelief, wishing I didn’t need this money and could frame it as my first big achievement here. Ellen might not think a hundred bucks was a big deal, but I felt rich. And so, so grateful. In fact, I had to turn away from her, scared I might actually tear up. “Ellen, thank you so much. You have no idea how glad I am to have this job.”

“Of course. What are friends for? I hope it wasn’t too terrible.”

“Not at all.” I’d been so busy the first few hours, the time had flown. I spent most of the time assisting Ellen behind the bar, washing glasses, refilling ice, running down to the basement to get more beer and wine, and occasionally taking food orders to tables if the wait staff was slammed. The last couple hours I’d spent helping Ellen clean up and restocking the bar, with only a quick break for dinner.

“We can take off now. My other manager is going to close up.”

“Okay. What do I owe you for the shirts?” When we’d arrived, she’d given me two black T-shirts with the bar’s logo on them. One I’d put on right away, and the other was folded under my arm, along with the shirt I’d worn here.

“Nothing.” She laughed. “That’s your uniform.”

She called goodnight to the staff that was left and we went out the back door to where her car was parked.

“Jump in,” she said, opening the driver’s side door of a beat-up Jeep.

“You don’t lock your doors?” I went around to the passenger side and attempted to get in, but first Ellen had to throw a bunch of things that had been on the seat into the back—water bottles, coffee cups, clothing, shoes, plastic bags.

“Nah. What for?” She started the car as I buckled up. “Nothing worth stealing in here, and if someone wants this piece of shit badly enough, they can have it.”

I laughed. “You are so different from Derek.”