Foundations - Kate Canterbary Page 0,17

an apartment with Jaime Rouselle, the first grade teacher, we'd decided to go all the way and make this event a Bayside School-Walsh Associates holiday gathering.

"That doesn't sound like a compliment," I replied, laughing.

"I mean," Max started, shaking his head at the tower, "you're a professional engineer. I'm an elementary phys ed teacher. All I'm saying is I'm going to think long and hard the next time you invite me to play any game involving structures and shit."

"I'll do some laps around the block in track shorts if you want to exact your vengeance. You can time me too," I offered.

He gave me an impatient frown as he tapped a middle column block out of place. Bad choice, my friend. "There's nine feet of snow out there and it's thirteen degrees. The last thing I need is my boss hollering at me because I was the reason her husband froze his nuts off."

I glanced across the room to find Lauren standing behind the kitchen island, our daughter Madeleine perched on her hip while the baby gnawed on my wife's necklace. It was some sort of felted wool or some other material safe for teething infants. Madeleine wasn't about to choke on a precious gem.

"Speaking of your boss," I started, tipping my chin toward the kitchen, "who is she talking to?"

Max hooked a glance over his shoulder before returning our game. "Clark's girlfriend. I don't know her name. Considering he turns them over more often than he changes his socks, it's not worth keeping up with the particulars."

"Yeah," I murmured, shooting a glance around the room to find Clark Kerrin, the history teacher. I didn't see him but the party was sprawled out across the entire first floor of our home and into the basement. "He brought someone different to the Halloween party, right?"

Max went for another block near the base. That wasn't going to work well for anyone. The trick was chipping away at the tower from the top. Any defect to the foundation was a defect to the structure.

He leaned toward me, a conspiratorial glint in his eyes. "You didn't hear it from me but he swiped on her yesterday morning. Wouldn't be surprised if he's already forgotten his new friend's name." With a sad shrug, he continued, "I probably should've done the same thing."

I tipped back my beer because day drinking was perfectly acceptable on New Year's Day. And life with an infant meant we'd both catch a nap before dinner. "How's, uh??ow's that going?"

Max grimaced as he reached for his beer. "About as well as any breakup. I moved out." He shrugged, saying, "My sister's basement sucks and her pull-out couch is giving me sciatica but I couldn't give Teddy any more chances. Couldn't keep looking the other way every time he made of a fool of me, you know?"

I hummed in agreement but I didn't know. Cheating hadn't figured into my dating history. "New year," I said. "New start."

"Something like that," he grumbled.

Silence settled between us as I removed a block from the top corner and Max snagged another middle piece. After several more turns, I asked, "What's his deal? Clark and the single-use straws. Is it about hooking up or??hat?"

Hooking up was so far from my present life, it was strange to speak those words. I couldn't comprehend anything like that, much less remember living that way. One adorable, sexy, amazing, maddening, glorious woman for the rest of my life was everything I needed.

"Single-use straws," Max repeated with a chuckle. "That's funny. But yeah, I don't know for sure. It's probably about pissing off Noa."

I peered at him, not sure I understood. From everything I knew about Noa Elbaz, the English teacher, I couldn't imagine anything pissing her off. The woman seemed thoroughly unflappable. She reminded me of my sister-in-law Andy. Neither of them had patience for boys and their games.

"Okay," I replied, unconvinced.

"Yeah, I don't know," Max repeated. "But he'll do anything to get a squinty eye out of her."

I took another swig of my beer while Max kept chipping away at the tower's foundation. So many bad choices. "A squinty eye?"

"You know," he insisted, screwing up his face as if he'd knocked back a shot of lemon juice. "Squinty eye." He picked up his beer, shrugged. "I don't get it, but I don't get much about that guy to begin with. Everything with him is ancient Rome this, American Revolution that. I never know what he's talking about but I let him think