“Wow,” she said as she scanned the menu. “I’ll take two of everything.”

  “I hear that,” I replied. “Shopping is hard work.”

  She flicked her eyes to me over the top of the menu. “So this is really something you do a lot? Take a woman to a fancy store for the Pretty Woman experience?”

  “Yes, I’ve done my fair share of sitting on couches in fancy clothing stores. It goes with the territory, I guess.”

  “Hm,” she nodded then went back to the menu.

  I didn’t want to admit that the only time I’d actually enjoyed it was with her. There was no artifice to Max. She didn’t pose seductively for me when she came out of the fitting room, or pout to try to get me to buy her something extra. It was like she was clocked in for work, which, the more I thought about it, was exactly what it had been. We had an agreement. I needed to keep reminding myself of that fact.

  A waitress appeared tableside. “What can I get you to drink? A Bloody Mary pitcher, maybe?”

  “None for me,” Max said, shaking her head. “Busy day.”

  “Yeah, I’ll pass. Water for me.”

  I was a little disappointed to hear that it was probably going to be a quick meal. Sure, I had stuff waiting for me at the office as well, but I was sort of hoping Max and I could spend a little more time getting to know each other. If we were going to pull this fake dating thing off, we needed to have a solid rapport. Thus far, we seemed to set each other off nearly as much as we connected.

  We settled into an uncomfortable silence, which was exactly what I didn’t want happening between us.

  “Let’s do a getting-to-know-you speed round,” I suggested. “Just in case my nosy relatives start asking questions.”

  Max leaned forward and finally smiled at me. “I’m in. Me first. Favorite hobby?”

  “Anything water-based. Boats, jet skis, diving … if there’s a body of water I’m either in it or on it. What about you?”

  “Photography.”

  I shook my head. “Nope, that’s your work. Gimme something else.”

  “You cheated then, because water is sort of your business. But, um … I guess dancing.”

  “Okay, nice. What kind?”

  “Well, I’m from Miami so if it’s Latin I’m in. If I’ve got a good partner I can salsa, bachata and merengue. I like line dances, like all those dumb ones they play at weddings. ‘The Cupid Shuffle,’ ‘Electric Slide’ …”

  “You’re going to have a blast at the wedding then,” I laughed. “Jessica loves them too. Can you do the Chicken Dance?”

  She gave me a smirk. “Who can’t?”

  “Fair point. I can, but I don’t.”

  “Oh, come on. Seriously? Are you going to be a wallflower at this wedding?”

  “Oh, don’t you worry about that. I can dance. I’m good. Really good.”

  Max threw her head back and laughed at me.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You. You’re the president of your own fan club.”

  I frowned at her. “No, I’m just aware of my strengths. It’s not bragging if it’s true. I took lessons with a pro for a few months because I wanted to learn how to dance, and because of that I’m good at it. It’s just a fact.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” Max said, looking like she still wanted to laugh at me.

  I saw a flash of Max in my arms. I was looking forward to gliding across the floor holding her close.

  Because we needed to sell the relationship, I quickly reminded myself.

  “Back to the speed round, you’re up now,” I said.

  “Right, okay.” She pursed her lips. “Favorite ice cream flavor. And if you say vanilla I’m walking out that door.”

  I laughed. “Guess I’m lucky to be a brownie batter guy. And you?”

  “Chocolate chip cookie dough. Next question.”

  I craned my head to look around the restaurant. “My next question is where the hell is our waitress?”

  “Right? I’m about to start pouring sugar packets down my throat. In the meantime, question. Go.” She jabbed her finger at me.

  “You’re really taking this seriously! Okay, okay, gimme a minute.”

  I wanted to ask her deep stuff, like how many times she’d been in love, but it didn’t feel right to pry.

  “What’s your perfect day?” I finally asked.

  “Oooh,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “That’s a good one. Um, I would say … I start off by sleeping in. Then a huge breakfast with lots of pastries. Cinnamon rolls, chocolate croissants, stuff like that. Absolutely no eggs, though.”

  I laughed at her serious expression. “No eggs, got it. What else?”

  “Then a walk on the beach, maybe a little swimming. A nap. Some reading. Afternoon snacks. Wine. More snacks. A really delicious dinner in, then a movie in bed, then go to sleep and do it all again the next day.”

  I felt my jaw dropping as she spoke. Most of the women I dated would’ve described a day of shopping or spa treatments. Maybe some of the more adventurous ones would have described exotic travel, extreme sports, or hitting up the hottest clubs. What Max had just talked about sounded pretty close to perfect to me as well, minus her stance on eggs.

  “I like it.”

  “What’s your perfect day?” she asked.

  “I’d spend it sailing. I don’t get much of a chance these days because I’m so wrapped up in yachting. I miss the simplicity of wind-based movement on the water. Next question.”

  “Um … biggest fear.”

  “Damn,” I laughed. “Way to go for the jugular.”

  She shrugged. “Might as well get it all out there.”

  “Okay,” I fiddled with the water glass in front of me. “I guess it would have to be … something happening to my business.”

  Max frowned. “Seriously?”

  “Well, yeah. What else is there?”

  “But …” Max stopped herself.

  “But what?”

  “You don’t worry about something happening to your family?”

  “For me, my business and my family go hand-in-hand. My business allows me to keep my family safe and happy. If it went under, I wouldn’t be able to take care of the people I love.”

  Something about that struck her, surprised her. Max seemed to wrestle with her words. “I mean, it’s not my concern, but from the outside it seems like you have nothing to worry about financially. The odds of you losing it all are pretty low, right?”

  She was right. I was set for life. But after growing up without, there was no such thing to me as enough security. I had to take care of my family. That would always come first. And yeah, my greatest fear was failing in that task. “It’s not likely, no, but anything is possible. Now you. Biggest fear.”

  I waited in silence as she fiddled with her napkin.

  “Family stuff, I guess. I just want all of the people I love to stay safe and happy, you know?”

  I nodded. I could tell that there was more to what she was saying, and I debated pushing for details. Her phone rang and she frowned when she looked at the screen. “Speaking of which…” she muttered to herself before looking up at me. “I need a second to take this,” she said as she pushed back from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

  I watched Max through the window. She started pacing, worried, as she listened to whoever was calling her, then strode back into the restaurant and grabbed her bag off the back of her chair. “I’m so sorry, I need to run.” She pointed over her shoulder. “Something came up.”

  “Is everything okay? What can I do to help?” I started to stand.

  She sighed. “I need to go pick up my little brother. There’s some, uh, drama going on at home.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  Max put her hand out to stop me. “No, there’s no need for you to get mixed up with my life, it’s fine. I know you don’t like complications, and trust me, this is as messy as it gets.”

  Once again, I wanted to know more, but I could tell by her expression that it wasn’t my place to press for details.

  “Okay, I understand. I’ll reach out with details about our next event together.”

  She bit her lip and nodded. Somehow, I could tell she was ten steps ahead, plotting out how to deal with whatever was going on.

  “Max?”

  She finally refocused on me. “Yeah?”

  “If you need me, call. If you need anything, I’m here. Got it?” I didn’t know why I said it. But I meant it with every fiber of my being.

  She managed a half-smile at me. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

  I watched her leave and realized that she still hadn’t had a bite to eat.

  9

  MAX

  I worried about Rafe during the entire drive to my mom’s house.

  At just thirteen, my brother was a slave to his emotions. Everything was either totally amazing or beyond shitty, with very little in between. His call just now had been no exception.

  “They’re fucking insane!” he’d screamed at me, causing me to pull my phone away from my ear. “Come get me, now.”

  After I’d scolded him for his word choice, I’d managed to calm him down enough to get the full picture. The usual fighting between our mom and Rafe’s dad, Nick, had escalated and Rafe couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to get out of the house for the day. I wanted to believe he was exaggerating, but I knew how bad the arguments could be. Nick was a controlling, narcissistic asshole and his own son hated him.

  And worse, my mom was afraid of him.

  I’d tried to talk some sense into her, but it was a decision she needed to make on her own—and Nick was way too good at convincing her that she’d never be able to make it without him. I just worried about the damage being done to poor Rafe, having to live in a household that toxic. My only consolation was that he considered me his refuge. He knew I’d rescue him any time he called.

  Rafe was sitting on the front step when I pulled up in front of the modest bungalow, skateboard and helmet at his feet. He barely raised his head when I got out of the car.

  “Can you hear them?” he asked glumly.

  “Hey, Rafe.” I paused on the sidewalk to listen. Sure enough, I could make out my mom’s high-pitched voice, interspersed with Nick’s angry shouts. I walked closer, studying my brother. How was it possible that he looked like he’d grown in the two weeks since I’d seen him last? His soft brown curls were a little longer, forcing him to palm them away from his eyes every few minutes. The smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks were punctuated with a few angry red spots, which, if he was anything like me, would be the worst of his adolescent acne. Rafe was lanky, all knees and angles in transition, but I could tell my little brother was going to grow into a handsome young man.

  A handsome, angry young man.

  I reached out and squeezed his shoulder, and he jerked away, as if he was embarrassed by the tiniest bit of physical affection.

  “Rafe.”

  He finally met my eyes, and I could see the telltale red rings around his.

  “What are they fighting about this time?” I asked.

  He shrugged, frowning. “Money, like always. It started off because Dad threw out some leftovers. Mom fished them out of the garbage because she said they were fine, and then he called her a dumpster diver. And she said that she had no choice, money is tight, and then they went at it. He said that they were behind this month because Mom bought me a new helmet.” He kicked the shiny metallic thing at his feet.

  “It’s not your fault,” I said in a low voice. “Don’t you dare let him get to you.”

  He shrugged again and hugged his knees, a gesture that took years off of him and made my heart ache. If I could’ve moved him in with me I would’ve, but I wasn’t in his school district and changing schools at his age would set him back even more. Besides, Nick would never agree to it. He liked having Rafe under his roof where he could use him against Mom and me.

  “Can we go now?” he asked, his voice verging on breaking.

  I considered running inside to let them know I was taking him, but realized it could trigger another fight. I’d text my mom once we were a safe distance down the road.

  “Sure. Where to?”

  “Lot 11.”

  Of course. The skate park was his refuge, a place where he could focus all of his attention and energy on landing tricks. My stomach growled.

  “Can we grab lunch first?”

  “Only if it’s tacos,” he said, a smile finally creeping onto his face as he jumped up.

  Twenty minutes later we were eating street cart tacos on the curb at the edge of the park. Even though it was midday the place was crowded with people of all ages, from tiny kids covered in padding to teenagers showing off absolutely terrifying moves. Rafe had gotten really good at skateboarding, but I had a feeling I’d still wind up watching him with my eyes covered the minute he finished eating. The kid was fearless.

  I took advantage of our moment together to try to get him to open up to me.

  “So how are you?” I asked, crashing my shoulder into his. “Aside from the parents stuff. How are you?”

  He chewed with his mouth open and pretended like he didn’t hear me, staring at the guy a few feet away from us trying to perfect his ollie.

  “Earth to Rafe.”

  “Huh? I’m fine I guess. School is stupid, home is stupid, the only thing that matters is this.” He tapped his heel on the sticker-covered board in front of him.

  “How did that science presentation go?” He took another gigantic bite. “Rafe!”

  “Sorry!” he rolled his eyes at me. “Geez. It was fine. But Max, I already have a mom. Let’s not talk about that stuff, okay?”

  He was right. He didn’t need me to nag him, he needed me to be there for him. I shifted my strategy. “Fine. So what trick are you working on now?”

  “A late kick-flip.”

  “Okay … and that is?”

  He rolled his eyes again, like it was something everyone knew, and I was totally lame for not being aware. “It’s when you skate fast and then jump into the air and kick the board up with you, and then flip it in the air, then land it and keep going.”

  I tried to keep him talking. “Do you do it one of those ramps?” I pointed to the one opposite us on the other side of the park.

  Rafe scoffed at me. “No, I have to learn how to do it on flat ground first.”

  “Can you do anything cool on the ramps?

  “You tell me.”

  He stood up and threw his taco wrapper on the ground. I fussed at him, but he was too busy putting on his helmet to notice. He dropped his board down and tore off toward a ramp across the park.

  Despite his grumpy attitude, I could tell he was happy that I was there and interested in what he was doing. My mom tried, but she was so busy trying to get established in her new real estate job and dealing with Nick that she barely had time for herself. And she knew I was always there for Rafe, which gave her a little relief.

  Rafe weaved in and out of the other skaters. He looked so at home on the board, and so fearless, but to me he’d always be a little boy. I was eleven when he was born, the perfect age to fall in love with a squishy baby brother. We were tight despite the age difference, made even more so by his need to find a safe space outside of the house.

  I sighed. Things were on the verge of changing for me, which meant that Rafe’s life was going to be in flux as well. The Richard Adams internship was basically a full-time job and then some. From what I’d heard the man demanded that his interns shadow him no matter what was going on, including after hours. I’d read an article about him that referenced his “groupies,” which made the interns sound more like fans rather than students getting ready to launch their own careers. The photo that accompanied the piece showed Adams behind the lens shooting the year’s latest silver screen ingenue, with a pack of black-clad women clustered in the corner of the frame, behind the computer that flashed the images he was capturing. They looked beautiful and petrified.

  I shook my head. That wouldn’t be me. I respected the man, but I wasn’t some nervous little newbie. I was there to learn his craft and that was all. I wouldn’t let someone I was paying a boatload of money make me feel unsettled.

  The money. Theo.

  The morning had passed in such a rush that I’d barely had time to think about the Q&A we’d started at the bistro. I wished we could’ve kept at it, because I’d been enjoying learning more about the man who was going to be my fake boyfriend. For some reason I wanted to know what made him tick.

  “Hey Max!”

  I squinted to find Rafe among the crowd. He was a few feet away from a steep incline holding his skateboard against his leg with his foot braced on the bottom. I waved at him and he nodded back. He started running toward the incline then dropped the board and hopped onto it, squatting slightly as he got closer to the wave of cement.

  “Too fast,” I muttered to myself, frowning. I was happy my mom had invested in a better helmet for him; it looked like the kid needed it.

  Rafe sped up the wall and when he reached the top managed to launch himself into the air with the skateboard still plastered to his feet, hanging weightless for what felt like an eternity. I could feel the grimace on my face as the board landed back on the cement, expecting Rafe to wipe out. But no, the kid swished down the incline totally in control, like what he’d just done was no big deal. To him, it probably wasn’t.

  As excited as I was about the internship, I had to admit that watching Rafe made me feel a little dread too. If all my time was taken up with the program, I wasn’t going to be able to give this fragile guy the attention he needed. Sure, we could text and call, but it took a lot to get Rafe to open up to me these days even when I was standing right there next to him, and I knew it would be near impossible to make it happen on the phone. Where would that leave him?

  I watched him try the kick flip move over and over. He could get the board in the air, but the flip part wasn’t coming together, and he kept landing awkwardly. I kept expecting him to give up, especially when he came down on the board with one foot and sent the thing shooting across the park. But he chased it down and gave it another shot, this time managing a half flip.