of a skillet poking out the top of one and a sunhat he recognized. Max thought he’d place his two bags of her things on the porch, grab his dad’s stuff, and make a quick getaway. But the moment he put the bags on the porch and picked up the first box, Evelyn came striding out in a silk caftan that flowed around her.
“Hello, Max,” she said.
“Evelyn.” He took the box to his car.
She folded her arms and watched him come back for the next one. “Did he tell you what happened?”
Max grimaced. The last thing he wanted was to get dragged into the middle of this. He shook his head.
“Well, I’m sorry. I owe you all an apology and you have it. My sincerest apologies. But I couldn’t have predicted what happened. I thought I knew—”
A man suddenly appeared behind Evelyn. He stepped around her and came off the porch. “You must be Max.” He offered his hand.
Max stared at him, trying to work out who he was, ignoring his hand.
The man dropped his hand. “I’m Paul Kennedy.”
Carly’s dad? What the hell was happening right now?
“We sincerely apologize for—”
“Don’t apologize for true love, Paul,” Evelyn interrupted. “That’s what we always had and we still do. We just lost our way a little bit.” This, she directed at Max.
“I don’t . . . understand,” Max said.
“I’m sorry, Son,” Mr. Kennedy said. “Evelyn and I have been dancing around this thing.”
“This thing?” Max said angrily. “My dad hasn’t been dancing around. How long has this been a thing?”
“Forty years is all,” Evelyn said defensively.
“Great. You’ve been dancing around this thing, but you got us all in the middle of it, and you took my dad on this roller coaster and married him,” Max reminded her.
“I know, and I feel very bad about that,” she said quickly. “Unfortunately, that’s what it took for Paul and me to realize that what we were doing was crazy—”
“I tried to stop them,” Carly’s father said. “I wasn’t able to, and then things got messy, and, well, the bottom line is, here we are. Evelyn and I are back together and committed to resolving our issues.”
Max stared at them, both of them looking back with such sheepish expressions. “You are standing on the ruins of two families,” he said. “I hope you can live with that.” He picked up the last box and walked to his car. He didn’t look back. He drove to the strip mall with the Target and parked in the lot. He closed his eyes for a long moment. His poor dad. And, sheesh, poor Carly with parents like that.
Carly.
He texted her for the first time in days. He’d intentionally tried to stay away, to make a clean break. But this, she needed to know.
Hi, Carly. Checking in to see if you’re okay. I guess you heard?
Max! So happy it’s you! Heard what?
She didn’t know. Max dialed her number.
Twenty-Six
Carly had managed to shove her suitcase onto the one shelf she had in her tiny little closet. Now rose the question of what to do with her handbags. She was studying her dire situation when her phone rang. She backed away from the closet, huffing with the exertion of unpacking, blew her hair out of her face, and glanced down. “Max!” she said with delight and answered the phone. “Hey!” She bounced onto her bed.
“Hi, Carly.”
They had texted sporadically since Carly had taken the job in New York. Sporadically, because even though they hadn’t declared it so, she thought they were both trying to ease out of what could never be. But this thing between them was hard to end—there was true affection there. True love. Carly was clinging to a fantasy that he might actually come to New York. She’d created the whole thing in her head—they would be away from her crazy family. He would visit Jamie every month. Baxter and Hazel would learn to potty on the patches of green around the trees in the sidewalks, and they would walk them through parks, and order in, and go out, and host supper parties with fabulous friends.
“How are you?” he asked.
“I am . . .” She had to stop and think about it. Life begins at the end of your comfort zone! Megan Monroe had shouted on her podcast yesterday. “I’m good, I think. I’m discovering New York.” She was discovering a shabby corner of New Jersey, actually. She was not living with Naomi—it was too small for four women,