“It is,” Max said. “I think it will help when his dog is ready and he doesn’t feel as if he’s being abandoned.”
Carly presented her back to Max to be unzipped. “When is he getting his dog?”
“The next week or so,” he said. “Hey, I may be way off base here, but you don’t seem as enthusiastic about this piece of wearable art as you have been about others,” Max said.
“Very astute of you, professor. This dress is hideous. It isn’t art—this is Victor phoning it in. The only reason I put it on today was to try and inspire him because he hadn’t seen it on a model yet. He’s been in the studio, half-heartedly working and trying to understand the universe and looking for clues on Instagram of all places.”
She quickly changed as Max watched, but the vibe between them was not a sexy one. It was a resigned one. When she’d finished, they stood staring at each other.
“How is your mom?” he asked.
“She’s fine. She felt bad about it.”
Max looked at his feet.
It felt to Carly a little like her nerves were curling and twisting together in her. She didn’t know what to say and turned away, pushing her hair from her face. She noticed several shirts and jackets laid out on his bed. “What’s this?”
“Oh . . . I was trying to find something to wear to my presentation Thursday.”
This was something Carly could do. Something productive, something she could control, something she could help with. She picked several shirts and held them up, discarding those that were definite noes—denim, of course—and those that were acceptable. “I have something to tell you,” she said as she sorted through the clothes.
“I don’t know if I can take any more good news, but go ahead, lay it on me.”
“My landlord is going up on the rent. Two hundred a month. And he wants another five hundred for Baxter.”
“What? Why?”
“Pet deposit. Right now, I don’t have enough work to keep my house. And until something breaks for me, I think I’m going to have to move out.”
“Move, like . . . where? Are you okay?”
She laughed, a little bitterly. “I’m not a pauper yet. But I have to find a job. And this thing with Victor . . . it’s not giving me a lot of confidence that he’s going to be a client I can build. Without clients, I can’t create an effective social media presence, and without social media, I’m pretty much unknown in this line of work. I’m going to have to step back and reassess. So . . . I decided this morning that I definitely can’t sign a lease. There’s just too much uncertainty in my future right now.”
“This is sounding pretty bleak,” Max said, and sat on the bed.
“No kidding. So, today, after everything, I asked Mom if I could stay in her house after she got married. I just assumed she’d be living with your dad and Jamie. But she informed me that she and your dad would be living there, and that . . .” She looked at Max as she laid one shirt out at the end of the bed. “Jamie would be living with you.”
Max stared at her as if she’d just slapped him.
“You haven’t heard that plan?”
“No.” He dragged both sets of fingers through his hair and looked away. “Was he even going to talk to me about it?”
“Before you say anything to your dad, it’s entirely possible my mom is doing some wishful thinking.” Carly walked into his closet and began to go through his pants. “She does that, you know—she just says what she wants to be true like that will make it true.”
“Maybe so, but it’s clear that something has to happen with Jamie. I don’t know if he can live with your mother and my dad without making it difficult.”
Carly came out of the closet with a pair of slim brown chinos. She added them to the shirt at the end of the bed. And then she added a sport coat. “There. Wear this to your presentation.”
Max looked at the bed. And then at her. “Carly,” he murmured.
She glanced down, trying to keep the heartburn in her eyes and chest from turning to actual tears. “I cannot believe we are being cockblocked by our parents.”
Max stood up. They stared at each other across the bed. As if they both wanted to speak. As if they both wanted