cold when Carly met Max at the dog park. They sat on a bench in contemplative silence as Baxter and Hazel explored. Max looked as tired as Carly felt, as if he, too, had been aged in a single day. She felt weary to the bone, really. Her life continued to collapse around her and now, her buoyant little raft with Max had sprung a leak. She tried to assess his mood. He smiled, but it seemed like he had to make himself do it.
He took her hand in his. “So this thing on Sunday.”
“Yeah,” Carly said. “Should be interesting.” She picked at some lint on the sleeve of his professorial sweater. “My mom has been texting photos of wedding gowns all day.”
“Wedding gowns. Wow.” He squeezed her hand. “Honestly, Carly? Last night, I thought sure, we can weather this. Today, I can’t wrap my head around any of it.”
“You and me both.” She leaned her head against his shoulder.
“Is it weird that I’m not prepared to see my dad with anyone but my mother?”
“Not at all. Is it weird that I wish my parents were still together?”
“Nope. Should we just . . . I don’t know . . . take the dogs and run away to Costa Rica or something?”
“Live on the beach?”
“Eat coconuts for breakfast.”
“Fish for our supper.”
“Start a fire to cook the fish and talk about maybe building a tree house. With a dog elevator, of course.”
“Yes,” Carly said. “We should go right now, this very minute, before things get crazier. Or, maybe, we hold off until after Sunday so we see for ourselves just how crazy this is.”
“Sure, why not,” he said wryly. “Jamie is coming over tomorrow so Dad can”—he flicked his wrist—“go on a date.”
“Shoot me,” she muttered.
“No way.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “You’re my only ally right now and I would miss you so bad.”
“Same,” she said softly. “What are you and Jamie going to do?”
“I’m going to plug in one of the dog show DVDs and work on my presentation. I got an email today. It’s next Thursday.”
“But I leave for New York on Wednesday. I won’t be here!”
He chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. I’m probably going to want to drown my sorrows in a few beers and, since I can’t hold my liquor, I’ll probably be sorry company.”
“Max, you never know—”
He stopped her before she could give him a speech. “But I do know. I’m not being fatalistic, I just know how these things work, and the bottom line is that she is the stronger candidate. Hey, don’t be sad for me,” he said, and playfully pinched her chin. “I’ll buck up. It’s not like I’m losing a job. It’s a setback, that’s all. Anyway—how is your boy wonder?”
“Where do I begin?” Carly asked. “He shaved off his rainbow hair. And he was wearing a polo shirt.”
“My God,” Max said, and pressed his hand to his heart. “What malign influence has befallen him?”
“Hilarious, professor. It may not seem like a lot to you, but for a guy like Victor to shave his head and put on a polo shirt? Instead of something he’s made to express himself? I’m really worried about him. The showcase is next Friday, and if he doesn’t make some clothes now, he’s going to have nothing to show.”
Max frowned. “Can he make clothes in a week?”
“No! I mean, I don’t know, but it seems impossible to me. He says he can. He said he created a beautiful red collection in, like, four days, but he worked around the clock to do it. I don’t know if he will do that now.” She stared up at the gray of the early evening sky. “All the press and publicity I have lined up is flitting out the window, one by one. I’ve had to cancel so much because he has nothing to show. And then, today, he did a Skype interview with Entertainment Weekly and told them he thought his red-carpet looks were frivolous and he was in it for the money. The kid is a train wreck right now, and I get it, I do, and I feel bad for him. But at the same time, I am so angry, because I have worked really, really hard.”
“I’m sorry, Carly,” Max said softly. He pulled her tighter into his side. “Man, did we stumble into a regular Peyton Place or what?”
“No kidding.” Carly sighed.
They returned to staring into space. Carly thought of herself in his house,