out that I didn’t want it. I mean, Ramona will never speak to me again, but I figured out that what I like is solving problems. I don’t like sitting at a desk. And between you and me, living in Jersey was not what it was cracked up to be. Plus, I couldn’t breathe.”
“Too crowded?”
“Yes, but I couldn’t breathe because I didn’t have you, Max. Have you ever felt that way? Like something is weighing on you and you aren’t sure what, you only know that you can’t breathe? I can’t breathe without you.”
Baxter barked to gain her attention.
“I know! I’m coming home for you, too, you lucky dog. Look at you, living here with treats and Hazel and mac and cheese!”
Max was stunned. After all the hours he’d spent thinking about her, wishing for her, and here she was, appearing out of thin air to save him from himself.
She squeezed his hand, brought it to her mouth, and kissed his knuckles. “I know it’s a lot to take in. And maybe you’ve finally moved on, and maybe there is a new Carly coming over later. But if there is, I am ready to fight her for you. Except that I’m not a fighter, so it will be ugly, and I’ll probably hurt myself, but, Max, you are the best thing. You are. You are worth fighting for, and I have missed you so much. And if there isn’t another Carly, I am here to tell you that I love you, and I’ve loved you from the moment you got me out of that skirt. And I am never going to love anyone like I love you, so if you still love me, I thought—”
“There is no other Carly. There could never be another Carly—are you crazy?”
“Are you sure? Because—”
“Carly. Stop talking,” he said, and grabbed her up and kissed her. He kissed her with all the despair and desire and the longing he’d felt in the several months, wishing for something he thought could never be. He pressed his forehead to hers. “I’ve been wrecked since you left. But . . . but I don’t want you to give up what you’ve worked for.”
“But that’s the best part, Max—I’m not giving up anything. There is more than one way to achieve what I want, and, trust me, I’ve worked just as hard for this, because this is what I want. So do you think . . .”
“Yes,” he said instantly. “I need you here. I love you.”
“And it’s not like a histamine thing?”
He laughed. He took her head in his hands. “There is no scientific explanation for how much I love you and I don’t care. I don’t even want to know. I’ve missed you madly, Carly, you have no idea.” He kissed her again and kept kissing her until one of the dogs tried to crawl in between them and the other barked at someone passing by.
“We’re causing a scene,” Carly muttered.
“Don’t care. But, yeah, maybe the house would be a better place for you to tell me why I am just finding out about this.” He wrapped an arm tightly around Carly and took her home.
* * *
Later, when he and Carly had exhausted everything they wanted to say, and had reconnected in his bed in a way that he would be corny enough to describe as transcendental, he would feel his happiness mushrooming in him, and his relief and his anticipation, and he would muse that Baxter was indeed a lucky dog—but for Max. He was the luckiest charm Max had ever come across, because he had brought Carly into his life.
He would be forever grateful to Baxter and a pothead named Brant.
Epilogue
It was an early spring day when Suzanna Harper played in the expansive backyard garden of the brand-new Deja Brew Coffeehouse on South Congress Avenue. Carly, Max, and Jamie and Duke were guests of honor, as Carly had arranged the event for her new client, Suzanna Harper.
In the window of the Deja Brew was a fancy, artistic poster proclaiming Suzanna Harper would be playing by special engagement. The fine print informed guests that she had also secured a spot in the annual South by Southwest Music Festival, and a list of dates for her appearances at the festival. Suzanna had a new website, too, done for a song by one of Max’s undergraduates looking for extra money.
In the window on the other side of the door was a smaller poster: