Even so, instead of arguing I looked over his shoulder and mumbled, “Whatever.”
His arms tightened before he let me go, grabbed his mug and turned toward the fridge.
“What do you want, oatmeal, toast, granola?” he asked.
“Toast.”
He opened the fridge but turned to me. “Jelly?”
“What do you think?”
He smiled, tipped his head toward the ceiling and said, “Shower, it’ll be done when you get down.”
“Thanks, Max.”
His head was in the fridge when, as if the two words he said didn’t hold colossal meaning, he muttered, “Anything, baby.”
Anything, baby.
Simple as that.
Anything, baby.
Before I could let those words settle in my soul, I grabbed my mug and nearly ran to the stairs.
I was quickly making the bed when Charlie spoke to me.
What’d I say, Neenee Bean?
It sometimes used to annoy me, but I had to admit, Charlie was rarely wrong.
“I think, just maybe,” I whispered under my breath but even I could hear the hope in my tone, “just maybe you’re right, Charlie.”
Charlie didn’t respond as I finished smoothing the duvet, fluffing the pillows and then I took a shower.
* * * * *
We were driving through the streets of town and I was looking out the side window, thinking maybe I could go for another buffalo burger sometime relatively soon when Max asked a question.
“Niles loaded?”
I turned to look at him. “I’m sorry?”
“Niles. Is he loaded?”
Something clawed at my insides coming close to tearing away precious tissue.
“He makes good money,” I said off-handedly, looking out the side window again. “His parents, however, are loaded.”
“Your Dad looked loaded.”
I pulled in breath through my nostrils then said, “Dad’s loaded too but Niles’s parents are on a whole other level of loaded.”
There was silence a second before Max said softly, “Thinkin’ today, Duchess, you might’ve gotten written out of your Dad’s will.”
That claw curled up and slid away and the tension in my body relaxed as I murmured, “No big loss.”
He glanced at me and stated, “You make good money too.”