Good for her. Max scrolled down the email announcing the faculty Christmas party. He hoped Gwen beat that Aussie asshole. Beat him into the ground, the bloody little pip.
He sat back in his chair, heard the creak of it, and wished it didn’t make the silent office feel even more empty. He rolled the computer mouse up to the delete icon’s red X. He was nothing but happy for Gwen. She’d go on, finish school, get a great job, and recover from the not much that had become so much to him. They were friends. Hadn’t she said that on his own god damn back porch? Friends. And then not even that after she fired off with Ellen and Missy.
So he’d wanted to push her a little, bring Nicola around to get Gwen to admit something, maybe appreciate what was happening between them. What was happening, apparently, with him alone. She’d wanted friendship and a couple times an itch scratched. He’d sure as hell done that, hadn’t he? He’d made her beg, scream, see Elvis. Well, he’d seen Elvis that one time with her and the headboard.
Damn.
The email, all black and white, announced Gwen’s future, her life without him. He’d had his chance once, then twice. But maybe he hadn’t really blown it at all. She just didn’t feel the same way he did, driven to his knees crazy for her. She'd always tied him up, even when tied down scared him shitless. He’d been ready this time, as ready as he could be. Hell, he’d never done it before.
But for this chance with Gwen, he’d stood in line for it. Yeah, I’ll take that. Sign me up. I’m in. He’d been in, dammit. And he’d called. Hell, the least she could do was pick up once. If a guy did something that cold, Gloria Steinem herself would show up and kick his ass. But let a woman refuse to explain her goddamn self, and it was okay. She was just taking care of herself or some other horse shit.
He clicked the red X, watched the message disappear in a heartbeat. But it didn’t feel gone at all. He hit delete over and over, erasing god knows what other messages, but he wasn’t going to stop until the screen was as empty as everything else.
Before Gwen left Deb’s office, Ty had already enlisted the entire group of second year students and speed-dialed everyone else. His crew consisted of future chefs of the world and a couple of ringers she was pretty sure were already working professionals.
She had, God help her, the boys. She wouldn't even have Annie there, who'd at least been trained a little. Annie's parents, the attorney pair who'd given up on their son but expected Annie to follow them to law school, were picking her up. Gwen was sorry to miss meeting the brother, but not so much the parents.
And there was no Missy beside her either, not that they'd talked, but she'd be taking off to her dad's or grandma's. Well, Gwen didn’t need relatives. Relatives were over-rated, but winning wasn’t.
She looked across the kitchen, divided in half with a strip of masking tape, courtesy of Jason, who assured her it would psych Ty out. Ty didn’t look psyched out. He waited with his band of pros and Mranda, who wouldn’t live to see dawn if she cheered even once. But even with one amateur, improperly dressed in purple suede pumps, his crew looked like they knew exactly what they were doing. There was a reason the Olympic games were limited to non-professionals. It could never be a fair fight. She was like one of those scrawny guys sent by their country with money from a bake sale.
"Okay." She needed to address the team, prepare them for the worst ahead.
"Gwen!" Annie came around the serving line, and Gwen wanted to hug her and not let go. And right behind had to be her parents, judging by their nearly matching sport jackets. But before Annie introduced her to the attorney pair, she waved behind them and her brother stepped closer. Taller than Annie, but not much broader, Gwen knew who he was because he had Annie’s eyes.
Annie signed to him while she talked, her hands fluidly making language in the air. "This is Gwen. She taught me to make those muffins I sent you. And she’s the one who told