“See you in Austin,” he said, backing away. “We’ll grab a Whataburger.” He turned and jogged back to where people were waiting for him.
Carly was not late to meet Ramona in her office. Ramona was not kidding about the job, either. The pay was decent—actually, at this point in her life, it sounded like a king’s ransom. After they discussed arrangements and start dates, Carly headed back to Naomi’s, her head spinning.
It was happening. After all these years of working hard to make it in Austin, she had absolutely nothing left to show for it or to lose. There was nothing keeping her in Austin except a dog and a couple of hearts she did not want to break. Hers, for one. And Max’s.
Twenty-Four
Late Saturday afternoon, Max received a text from Carly. She’d landed in Austin and asked if she could pick up Baxter. Max was happy to hear from her, eager to hear about her trip to New York, and eager to share his news, too.
Baxter and Hazel heard her before Max and Jamie did, and the two dogs raced to the door, barking and tails wagging. Max had to reach over them to open the door.
Carly was on his porch in a puffy jacket, jeans, and Uggs. Baxter launched himself at her legs with verve and missed. Hazel managed to plant her paws on Carly’s thigh.
“Hey,” Max said, and had to lean awkwardly forward, over the dogs, to hug her. He kissed her cheek. “You smell so good.”
“Thank you!”
Jamie appeared, wearing a paint-spattered apron and holding a paintbrush. “Duke,” he said. “Loyal and obedient. Likes dogs.”
Carly looked at Max.
“Jamie is getting his dog today,” Max said. “It’s a big deal in the Sheffington household. His name is Duke, he is loyal and obedient, and we have an appointment to pick him up in an hour.”
“Labrador,” Jamie added, then turned and disappeared into the house with Baxter and Hazel hurrying along behind him.
Max grinned at Carly and brushed hair from her face. “Hey, gorgeous. How are you?”
“Good! Tired. By the way, have you heard from our parents?”
“You mean apart from the dozens of wedding photos last night? Not a peep. You?”
“Nothing,” Carly said.
“I guess they are having a good time.”
“Eew, don’t,” she said with a playful grimace. “Mia has been blowing up my phone. She’s convinced there is some big conspiracy underfoot, because she can’t get hold of Mom or Dad. But forget them—I’m dying to know how your presentation went,” she said as they walked into the living room.
“It went well,” he said. “It went very well, better than I expected.” He was waiting for the right moment to tell her that it was him. By some miracle, he was the one being put forward for tenure. He sat on the couch and pulled Carly down beside him.
“And the other professor? How did she do?” Carly asked.
“She was good,” he said. “Very interesting.” She’d been so good that he’d felt himself sinking during her presentation. Alanna was impressive. When Max was summoned to a meeting with Dr. O’Malley yesterday, he’d assumed it was the meeting where the department chair would explain to Max that he was a good scientist but not ready to be put forward for tenure. Max had come to terms with it. So he’d stopped by O’Malley’s office on his way to teach an undergraduate class and walked in, reached across the desk to shake O’Malley’s hand, and said, “I want to thank you for the consideration. I understand that it’s a difficult decision, but I was grateful just for the opportunity to present.”
“Don’t thank me,” Dr. O’Malley said. “You did the work to get there.”
“Yep. Well, again, thank you.”
Dr. O’Malley looked at him strangely. “Don’t you want to know the next steps?”
“For . . . ?”
“Dr. Sheffington . . . I called you here to inform you that the committee has recommended you for tenure. Your dossier will go to the dean, and if he agrees, you will next present to the university tenure committee.”
Max had been so dumbfounded, he could only stare at him.
Dr. O’Malley graced him with a rare smile. “Did you hear what I said? We’re putting you through for tenure.”
It was odd how the brain worked, how cognitive distortion could take a very logical thing and make it illogical. Because this all seemed illogical to Max. He said, “Alanna . . .”
“Yes, Dr. Friedman is very good. But she doesn’t quite have the breadth of research to support