Max doesn’t notice. He lifts the edge of my shirt, and it’s enough to wake me up. I yank it back down. He startles. “What? What’s the matter?”
I can barely keep my voice steady. “Which one, Max?”
“Which one, what?” He’s unusually dazed. “What are we talking about?”
“Which Dolores Nolan are you in love with? Are you in love with me, Lola? Or are you in love with Lolita?”
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
“You know exactly what it means. You call me Lolita, but you get weird when I’m not dressed up, when I look my age. So which one? Do you like the older me or the younger me?” A worse thought occurs. “Or do you only like me because I’m young?”
Max is furious. He pushes me off his lap and stands up. “You really want to have this conversation? Right now?”
“When would be a better time? When, Max?”
He swipes up his lighter from the side table. “I thought we’d been over the age thing. I thought it was something that bothered other people.”
“I just want the truth. Do you love me? Or do you love my age?”
“How the HELL can you say that?” Max throws his lighter across the room. “In case you’ve forgotten, let me remind you. You chased ME down. I didn’t want this.”
“What you mean you ‘didn’t want this’?You didn’t want me?”
“That’s not what I said!” he bursts out. “Oh, I wanted you. But guys like me aren’t supposed to go after girls like you, remember? Isn’t that what we’re talking about? Jesus. I don’t know what you want me to say. It sounds like every answer I give you will be the wrong one.”
The truth hits me with a vicious punch to the gut. Every answer is the wrong one.
“You’re right,” I whisper.
“Damn right, I’m right.” A pause. “Wait. Right about what?”
“There’s no right answer. It doesn’t exist. There’s no way this can end well.”
He stares me down. For several moments, neither of us speaks.
“You’re not serious,” he says at last.
I force myself to stand. “I think I am.”
“You think you are.” His jaw hardens. “After your parents. After Sunday brunch? Do you have any idea what I’ve put up with to be with you?”
“But that’s just it! You shouldn’t have to ‘put up’ with—”
“Did I have a choice?” Max closes the distance between us.
“Yes. No! I don’t know . . .” I’m shaking. “I’m just trying to be honest.”
“Oh.” His nose is an inch from mine. “You’re ready to be honest.”
I swallow hard.
“Honestly,” he says, “I don’t know who you are. Every time I see you, you’re someone different. You’re a liar, and you’re a fake. Despite what you think, despite what your dads have told you, there is nothing special about you. You’re just a little girl with a lot of issues. That is what I think about you.”
And then . . . my world goes black.
“Love,” I blurt. “I thought you loved me.”
“I thought I did, too. Thank you for making things so clear.”