Then I moved my arm to drape it on his, I laced my fingers through his and I whispered, “’Night, Max.”
He shoved his face in my hair, his fingers tightened in mine and he muttered, “’Night, Duchess.”
For a long time I didn’t sleep and I knew neither did Max.
Then slowly the impossible happened and sleep claimed me.
Chapter Eleven
Not if You’re the Only One Fightin’
I woke up to the bright Colorado sunshine, complete memory of my heart-wrenching night before and an empty bed. I got up on my hand, pulling my hair out of my face and listened to the house.
Nothing.
I started to look down toward Max’s pillow but caught sight of the note on his nightstand covering the clock.
I scooted across the bed and grabbed the note.
Duchess,
Had to go into town, be back as soon as I can. Coffee’s made, just flip the switch.
When I get home, we’ll talk.
Max
I looked at the clock and saw it was nearly nine. I’d slept in and, while doing it, as normal, I slept deep. I didn’t feel him leave me.
I got out of bed, went to the bathroom, did my morning business and went downstairs to flip on the coffee. I went back upstairs and took a shower. Then I wrapped up in my robe and went downstairs to get a mug of coffee. I took it upstairs and went to the closet, grabbed my clothes, went to the dresser, grabbed my undies and went back to the bathroom. I did my makeup then dressed, hooking my robe on the back of the door. Then I did my hair.
What I didn’t do was think. I’d have to do that soon enough.
When I was done with my hair, I turned off the blow dryer and my hand froze in its descent to set the dryer on the basin because I heard my recorded voice.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
“And, you also get what it’s like to have Shauna involved, seeing as she was after my man and she’s after yours too.”
“I’m not sure Max is my man.”
I set the dyer on the counter silently as the next words in Bitsy and my recorded phone conversation from days before drifted up to me.
“Oh he is. Never seen him like that with anyone except Anna. The whole town’s talkin’ about it. We’re all real glad. Thought Max’d never find anyone after Anna died. It’s been ten years, that’s a long time. Lord knows, I know that.”
“Bitsy –”
“Brody told me all you’ve done with Mindy and I gotta say, I’m glad you’re nice. Anna was my best friend and I loved her. She’d want Max to end up with someone nice.”
“I don’t know what to say. Um… thank you.”
“Thank me for you bein’ nice?”
“Yes, I guess, and thank you for trusting me to talk to.”
I walked woodenly out of the bathroom and across the room as the voices kept drifting up, relentless, the entire conversation.
I went to the stairs and wound my way down, my head moving, my neck twisting as I went so I could watch Max standing still as a statue staring at the answering machine.
“Bitsy, darling, you should feel free to feel how you want and don’t think of what people think.”
“No one liked him anyway, he died and his mistress phoned the police. It’s hard not to think of what people think since everyone’s thinkin’ somethin’.”
“Well, try. Anyone who truly cares about you will let you have your feelings, whatever they may be.”
I stopped moving when his head tilted back to look at me. I stood in the curve of the stairs halfway down trapped by the fierce anger in his eyes and the conversation kept playing but I didn’t hear it. I stood immobile, his eyes on me, his face carved from stone.
Then I heard my Mom’s faraway, disembodied shout from the answering machine recording. “Neenee Bean, let’s go hiking!”
“Be down in a sec!”
“You know about Anna?” Max asked over the recording.
My stomach clutched, fear crawling insidiously along my skin.
“Max –”
“You know about Anna?” he repeated, his voice deadly.
“I –”
“Come down here.”
“Max –”
“Get down here, Nina.”
The answering machine message played out as I wound down the rest of the stairs and walked to within four feet of him. He watched the whole time.
“No, Bitsy. You don’t know how many times I tried to get Charlie to open up to me. So, thank you, again, for trusting me.”
“Oh honey, my pleasure. I’ll lay all my troubles on you, you like it so much.”
“Take care.”
“Yeah, you too. Hope to see you soon.”
“Bye.”
“Later, honey.”
The answering machine beeped the end of the message.
“Max –”
He interrupted me, “How long have you known?”
“Um…”
Suddenly, he leaned forward and roared, “How long have you known!”
My heart lodged in my throat, I jumped and moved back two paces, scared silent.
“Fuckin’ answer me,” he growled.
This was it. This was it.
Oh God, I knew it. It always went bad.
He couldn’t even bear me knowing she existed.
I couldn’t do this; I couldn’t participate in this ending. I just had to get out.
I turned and ran to the stairs but didn’t get there. Max’s hand wrapped firm around my wrist, I came to a jerking halt and then he yanked on my hand, twisting it around my back, effectively twirling me so my front slammed into his. Then he released my hand but his arms came around me like vices.
“Don’t run away from me, Nina,” he clipped.
“Let me go,” I whispered.
“Answer the f**king question.”
I shook my head but answered, “Arlene told me at The Dog that night when Damon hit me.”
“Christ, you’ve known a week,” he bit this off as if it infuriated him even further.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Please, let me go.”
“You’ve known a week,” he repeated.
“Yes, Max. Now please, let me go.”
“You didn’t say a word.”
I blinked and tried to focus through my fear on his enraged face. “Sorry?”
“You didn’t say a f**king word,” he repeated, squeezing me with his arms on the word “fucking”.
He wasn’t making sense and I decided to attempt to calm him down so I could get my head sorted, plan the steps to leaving him, take them one at a time and then get out of there, out of Colorado, go home and find some way to pick up the tattered threads of my life.