assumed it would be another academic. He’d never envisioned a woman who showed up with a dog in a tutu and gave it Evian water to drink. But it was that woman, and he missed her so much already even though they were still together.
He didn’t know where they went from here. Where he went from here.
When he’d finished his second run-through, Drake sat up. “Max, listen to me. Your dossier defense is in a couple of days. You need to keep your head in the game here. I know Alanna is a strong candidate, but so are you. You are not out of the running, no matter what you think.”
Max nodded. He appreciated Drake’s friendship, and he’d do no less for Drake. But that gut feeling wouldn’t leave him. It was over. All of it. Tenure, his family, Carly . . .
Nevertheless, Max spent the rest of the day prepping for his research defense. He and Carly had mutually agreed they both had too much to do before she left for New York and he made his presentation. She’d texted him, said her client was coming around, and she was tied up with him until she left.
He texted her and said he had to spend every moment preparing for his presentation. She asked if Baxter could hang out with him for a few days while she was out of town. He said of course. She dropped Baxter off with a box of his things Tuesday morning. From the note she’d left, it looked like she’d just missed him.
They hadn’t said it, but it seemed to Max as if they’d both decided that whatever was going to happen was going to happen. Life rolled on. Max just needed for his parasympathetic nervous system to kick into gear sometime soon and bring him down off the ledge so he could fight for the thing he’d worked so hard to achieve. He had to place the rest of his life on hold for a couple of days.
Somehow, he was able to do it by sheer force of determination. But Wednesday morning, his phone pinged bright and early.
Hey, you! Go kick some ass tomorrow!
Max smiled at his phone. He was extremely happy to hear from her.
Wish me luck.
LUCK. Anyway, you won’t need it. I am sure there is some biological explanation for what is really happening when people feel they need luck, but you’ll do great. You’re a rock star, Max Sheffington!
“Thanks, Carly,” he muttered.
Thanks again for keeping Bax. No couch! (just kidding) But for real, no mac and cheese. I mean, unless he won’t eat. Anyway, let me know how your presentation goes?
Will do. You do the same. When is your flight to New York?
I’m on the plane now. So, hey, Tobias Sheffington III . . .
He waited. Three undulating dots appeared on his screen. Then disappeared. He pulled on a jacket, looked again. Still nothing. Maybe the text had dropped.
He was combing his hair when the three dots popped up again.
Megan Monroe of Big Girl Panties podcast says that you should accept disappointment and not lose hope, and use the disappointment as a stepping-stone to greater things. I totally hate her right now. Who can be that Pollyanna all the time? Anyway, I don’t want to use you as a stepping-stone to anything. I just need you to know that you are the greatest love I will never have. Sorry if that’s too much, but I had to say it.
Max stared at the message, his heart racing. That was the way he felt, too.
Good luck tomorrow. Good luck good luck good luck. You deserve the best. Oh, the flight attendant told me to put my phone in airplane mode . . .
She ended the text with a picture of a little airplane. And then she was gone.
Max texted back, I love you, too, Carly. But he deleted it as his heart fissured right in his chest.
Twenty-Three
Carly arrived in New York at noon on Wednesday, utterly exhausted. She’d spent two full days with Victor, working into the night, helping in any way she could while he patched together what could be salvaged from his red and white collection.
Late Sunday night, Victor’s mother had texted with an SOS. She said Victor was so lost, but at least recognized that he was too much in his own head.
Carly arrived at his studio the next morning with the red suit he’d tried to throw away and she’d tried to wear.