“Hey,” I said, smoothing my hand along her cheek.

  Her eyes fluttered open, and she moved just out of my reach. I ignored the pang I felt and tried to chalk her reaction up to being in that half-awake confused state.

  She kicked her heels off and walked up to my place barefoot. I tried not to visualize taking a shower together, mainly because I could tell it wasn’t going to happen. Anyway, we had too much to discuss to get distracted.

  “I’m going to change and go to bed,” Max said, pushing past me.

  “Hold on. Don’t you think we need to talk?”

  She turned abruptly, her eyes hard. “I think I know where you stand on the subject.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Fine,” she sighed. “Let’s talk. But I’m changing out of this thing first.” She plucked at the gown.

  I took off my blazer and loosened my tie. I wanted to change too, but I opted to give Max some alone time rather than following her into the bedroom. I got myself some water while I waited, trying to ignore the fact that I felt nervous.

  Max padded out in a t-shirt, leggings, and fluffy socks then dropped onto the couch. I sat in the chair opposite her.

  “Let’s start with the basics,” I began gently. “How did it happen?”

  She frowned at me, a wounded expression on her face. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, you said you were on the pill …”

  She let out a heavy sigh. “I might’ve been a little, inconsistent. So if you’re asking if it’s my fault, then the answer is yes. I take the blame.”

  “Max, that’s not what I’m saying at all. I just wanted to clarify. Do you know how far along you are?”

  She shook her head. “Not exactly, but I have a rough idea.”

  “And do you know what you want to, uh, do?”

  “I’m keeping it,” she shot back quickly. “But don’t worry, you won’t have to parent this child.”

  “Wait a sec,” I put my hand up. “Why would you say that?”

  She stared at me then raised her chin defiantly. “You told me that you don’t want to be a parent. Remember? All that stuff about parenthood being a crapshoot. Dealing with sacks of potatoes and chaos agents. You have a pretty depressing view of having children.”

  I closed my eyes and rubbed my throbbing temples. Shit.

  “I’ll be fine, Theo. I’m capable.”

  “Obviously you’re capable. I don’t doubt that. But you don’t have to do this by yourself, Max. I want to be here for you. And for our baby.”

  She pulled her feet up on the couch and hugged her knees, then shrugged at me. “I don’t want to ruin your carefree, bachelor life. You’ve got a good thing going.”

  “Stop,” I said, sounding angrier than I’d intended. “This news changes everything.”

  “It doesn’t have to,” she said, her voice rising. “I told you, I can do it on my own.”

  “But why would you want to?”

  She leaned forward, her eyes narrowed. “Because I don’t want to raise a child with someone who never wanted to be a father.”

  Her voice was filled with venom.

  “Max, stop,” I said. “You’re twisting my words.”

  “Am I? Are you forgetting what you said out there?” she jabbed her finger toward the balcony.

  “Of course not, but things change. People can change. I want to be a part of this child’s life. Our child. Give them everything that I never had growing up. All of the advantages, you know? Right from the start. Like, I can find out who the top OBGYN is in Miami and have them do house calls. I can turn the second guest bedroom into a nursery. I can hire a night nurse to help out once the baby arrives. I can hire a chef to prepare all homemade baby food—”

  “Do you hear yourself?” Max asked me. “It’s all ‘I, I, I.’ Have you even stopped to think about what I want for this baby?”

  “Well, of course. That’s most important,” I said, feeling like I was losing a battle I had no interest in fighting. “But the truth is, I have a stake in this as well.”

  Max laughed at me. “That’s a shock, given what you said the other day.”

  “I’m just trying to think about what comes next, Max. This is a big deal. It’s life-changing.”

  “What does come next?” she asked. “Because as of tonight, our arrangement is over.”

  She fell back against the couch and crossed her arms over her chest, staring out the window.

  “It doesn’t have to end,” I said. “You can move in here, that way I can stay on top of everything that’s going on with the pregnancy, and I can help you.”

  Max didn’t answer.

  “Say something. What are you thinking?”

  She took a long, shaky breath. “‘I can help you,’” she repeated. “I remember when Nick said that to my mom. ‘Move in with me, I’ll take care of everything, I can help you.’ And she did. Next thing I knew, they were married with a baby on the way, and I was finding every after-school activity under the sun just to give me an excuse to be out of the house because home wasn’t a safe place to be anymore.”

  For a minute, I could only stare at her in shock. “Are…are you comparing me to Nick?” I finally managed to say. “Drunk, verbally abusive, asshole Nick?”

  “He wasn’t drunk or verbally abusive at first,” she said, not meeting my eyes. “That part came later.”

  “Jesus.” I clutched the back of a chair, feeling my legs go weak under me. “You really think that I’m like that?”

  “No,” she said immediately, and the vise around my chest loosened a fraction. “You’re not cruel like him—I know that. But you are controlling. You’re always the one in command, calling the shots. And I’m not okay with that. I need to feel like I’m the one in charge of my life.”

  “You are,” I insisted. “We’ll tackle this as a team.”

  We both went silent, my heart thudding in my chest so loudly I could swear she heard it.

  “I don’t think you understand the meaning of the word ‘team’ Theo. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this,” Max said in a small voice.

  “Do what?”

  “Us. This. We started with a lie, it grew out of control, and look what happened. Now you’re trying to step in and ‘fix’ everything because that’s what you do—but I don’t want you to fix my life or try to take it over. I need to be the one who decides what’s right for me. And I don’t want to lie any more, Theo. I’m done. It’s best if we end this now, like we agreed to.”

  I felt like my head was going to split open. How could this be happening?

  “Is that really what you want? Just to walk away from everything we’ve built together? And the future we could have?”

  “None of it was real. Neither of us wanted something real—that’s why we made the deal in the first place.” Her voice was quiet, but the bitterness came through loud and clear. “Don’t you see that?”

  Her words cut through me. Even though our relationship had started out as a means to an end, it had started to feel real to me, and it seemed like she felt the same. How was it possible I could be so wrong?

  “Is this really what you want?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “And there’s nothing I can say or do to change your mind?”

  “Theo …” she began, her eyes filling with tears even as she shook her head. “This is my decision. Are you going to respect it or not?”

  And there it was—the line in the sand. If I kept trying to change her mind, I’d confirm all her worst fears about me trying to take over her life.

  Anyway, it was pointless for me to push her. Max had made up her mind that there was no room for me in her life, or our child’s life.

  “This doesn’t feel right,” I said haltingly. “But I’m not going to stand in your way. If this is the end of our arrangement, we have some financial details to work out.”

  Max gave me an almost imperceptible nod.

  “And this isn’t the time to talk about it, but I’d like to come to an agreement as to my role in our child’s life, from financial support to visitation.”

  “There’s plenty of time to figure that out.” Max stood up. “I think I should go.”

  I jumped up. “It’s late, you’re tired …”

  “I’ll sleep better at my place. Alone.”

  I watched her walk back to the bedroom to pack up her stuff. I never imagined the independence that made Max so unique would be the very thing that stole her away from me.

  33

  MAX

  I stood across the street from the bustling gallery, watching the crowds gathered inside from a distance until I felt confident enough to go in.

  I had every reason to feel nervous. Even though the internship with Richard Adams was based on merit, I knew that this little gathering was a test of sorts. He was launching a new exhibit at the Hawkes Gallery, called Then/Now, and he’d invited all of the applicants to come as his guests. I’d heard rumors about him dropping people from consideration after events because he didn’t like what they were wearing, or the way they laughed. The man was judgmental and quick-tempered, yet people still flocked to him.

  With good reason. He was a certified star-maker.

  At least I knew I looked pretty. I dressed to make myself happy, in a silver 90s-style shift and my black motorcycle boots, my sleeve of tattoos on full display. I’d checked out my profile in the mirror a dozen times to make sure I wasn’t showing in the slim dress. If I got the internship, I’d disclose the pregnancy, but while I was still under consideration, I was choosing to keep it under wraps. I didn’t want Richard to think that my pregnancy would impact my work ethic. Every time I thought about the pregnancy, I obviously thought about Theo too. We hadn’t spoken since I stormed out of his place the week before, and I hated how much I missed him. There was still plenty for us to figure out, but I wasn’t ready to talk to him yet.

  I sighed as I watched more people filing into the gallery. No sense waiting, it was go-time. I straightened my back and walked in like I owned the place.

  “Hi, welcome to our event,” a gorgeous woman with a clipboard standing just inside the door asked me. “Are you on the list?”

  “I am. Maxine Simon.”

  I held my breath as she scanned it once, and then again.

  “Right, there you are,” she finally said, glancing up at me. “Feel free to take a look around the gallery. Richard will find you for a one-on-one before the end of the evening.”

  “Do I need a name tag or anything?”

  The woman shook her head. “No, he knows who you are. Don’t worry.”

  I wanted to laugh. Don’t worry. Yeah right. My entire future was pinned to this internship. And even more absurd: Richard Adams knew who I was?

  It made sense since he probably did a deep dive on every submission. Or he had his minions do it and then report back to him with the highlights. Speaking of minions, it was easy for me to pick them out in the crowd. There were the usual old money and new money folks parading about in the stark white gallery, interspersed with a group of stunning women who had to be his latest crop of worker bees.

  Did Richard insist on a uniform? Because the pack of them were all wearing tight black dresses. There were minor variations in cut and detailing, but the style was almost unsettlingly uniform, like they were bridesmaids in a very sexy wedding. And their hair was styled similarly as well, pulled back in sleek low buns. No jewelry, the highest of heels. It made them easy to pick out.

  They all seemed terribly busy, like they were getting ready to perform open heart surgery or pilot a plane. The patrons in the gallery seemed perfectly content to check out the giant photos and nibble on appetizers at a leisurely pace, yet these beautiful, delicate women were fluttering around looking stressed out. Richard Adams was nowhere to be seen, but I could picture him in a back room, watching everyone through two-way glass.

  The interns’ perma-frowns made me a little worried. An exhibit opening was supposed to be fun. But maybe it was just because they wanted the event to go smoothly?

  I headed for the bar only to remember that liquid courage wasn’t an option for me. Once again, I didn’t want anyone to know I was going alcohol-free, so I ordered a cranberry seltzer to carry around while I waited for Richard to summon me. I tried to focus on his work hanging all around me.

  The first image was a massive black and white photo of a young woman’s bare back, with her chin resting on her shoulder, perfectly lit to show off her beautiful profile. Her blonde hair flowed over the other shoulder. It was a sensual image, like she was rising from bed after a tryst with a lover. The photo paired with it made me gasp in shock.

  It was of another woman in the same pose, but without any of the soft focus appreciation of the first image. She was decades older than the woman in the first photo, and every wrinkle, freckle, sag, and crease were highlighted. It was as if he’d amped up the contrast in the image to highlight the ravages of aging. The photo was a shocking judgement of the older woman.

  “Terrifying, isn’t it?” a voice beside me said.

  I was about to say something wise-assed when I turned and realized that the speaker was none other than Richard Adams himself, staring at his own work. As usual, his thinning black hair was slicked back into a low ponytail, and he was also wearing all black except for a red bolero tie. His 1970s “dad glasses” made him look like a window-peeper.

  “Oh my gosh, Richard, hello!” I managed to collect myself enough to answer him. “It’s … quite a juxtaposition.”

  “Ha!” he laughed loudly. “That was almost the title of this exhibit. Aren’t you the clever one?”

  I pushed down my feelings about the image and managed to smile at him. “I’m Maxine—”

  “Simon. Yes, I’m well aware of who you are.” His eyes bore into mine. “Walk with me.”

  He turned abruptly, and I had no choice but to follow behind him like a dog on a leash.

  “What do you think of this one?” he asked, stopping in front of two side-by-side images.

  The first was of a full breast, photographed head-on so that it filled the whole frame. The fact that it was black and white was the only aspect that didn’t make it look like it was taken for Playboy. The photo next to it was also of a breast, but once again it revealed the march of time.

  “I call it ‘The Siren and the Crone.’” Richard said.

  “Interesting,” I said, hoping I sounded diplomatic, because I was hating everything I was seeing. I craned my neck to look around the room. “How many men did you photograph for the show?”

  He looked at me like I’d said something absurd. “None. Why would I?”

  “It seems to me that the series is about the aging process. Men age too.”

  He laughed, but without any expression on his face. “Aren’t you a pistol? I like that. Keep walking.”

  It was an order. As much as I hated following orders, I did as I was told. We stopped in front of another oversized photograph, this time a close-up of a full, round ass in a black thong.

  “That’s Isabelle,” he said placing his hand on the glass above the right cheek, which would be forbidden if anyone was doing it other than the creator. “She’s one of my interns, but she’s also my muse of the moment. Let me introduce you.”

  I fought off my gag-reflex as I followed him yet again, trying to feel okay about being professional with a woman whose naked butt I’d just seen up close and personal without her consent. Yes, she surely knew that her photograph was part of the exhibit, but that still didn’t make it feel okay. How much of a choice had she really felt like she had—either about the photograph being taken or being displayed?

  We rounded a corner and a group of glamazons froze in shock, like they were mice caught in the middle of the kitchen floor when the light went on. Two of them scurried away as we approached.

  “Isabelle,” Richard said in a smooth voice. “This is Max. She’s probably going to replace you.”

  The young woman’s face went white, but she managed a smile at us. “Hello, Max, so nice to meet you.”

  We shook hands and something passed between us in the moment. She held onto me for a beat too long.

  “Hey, Richard.” A man I assumed was the gallery owner came striding up to us. “The Miami Herald is here and they want some photos.”

  “Excuse me, girls,” Richard said, placing his hands together in prayer pose and bowing at us before walking away.

  Girls?

  “I’d love to ask you some questions about the internship,” I said to Isabelle, as two other women in black dresses pressed closer.

  She looked around nervously. “Sure.”

  “Has it been amazing? Like, has your work improved because of it?”

  A shorter brunette laughed, and Isabelle shot her a look.

  “That’s hard to say,” Isabelle responded, twirling her bangle bracelet. “Maybe?”

  The shorter woman leaned closer to me. “It would’ve improved if Richard would actually let her touch a camera. Any of us, really, but Isabelle has it the worst.”

  I frowned at them. “Really? Why is that?”

  “She’s his pet,” the woman said, giving Isabelle a sympathetic smile. “His ‘muse.’ He picks a new one with every class. Any time he needs a stand-in for a shoot, Isabelle has to do it. If he wants to test a set-up, she’s the one going through the poses. And any time he gets an idea for a new series, she’s the first one he goes to. It feels like I’ve seen Isabelle’s naked body more often than my own.”

  “Wow, okay.” I tried to hide my shock.

  “I’m not afraid of nudity. I’ve modeled before.” Isabelle glanced around then fixed her gaze on me. “But I don’t think you should do it.”

  I jerked back in shock. “Do what?”

  She took a step closer to me, looking nervous but determined. “The internship. It’s not what you think. Richard Adams is a total creep. This program is just a way for him to surround himself with pretty young women at his beck and call. Look around.” She gestured to the people milling in the room. “Do you see one male intern? No.”