“How’s little Max doing?” he asked.
“We’re not going to find out the gender, but he or she is doing just fine. Thanks for asking. How are things with you? Signed that kid from the boy band yet?”
“Don’t get me started,” he said. “His music agent has him thinking he can do it all himself.”
“Oh, big mistake. They’re going to need your magic.”
“No shit. The thing that pisses me off is that they’ll give it a go and this music agent will fall flat on his face, and they’ll probably end up signing with someone else just so they don’t have to come crawling back to me.”
“That sucks.”
“And the thing is, I don’t even care. I won’t rub it in their faces. At least not directly. Anyway, are you in the office?”
“No,” I said, flipping through some shirts on a rack. “I’m looking for clothes that fit a pregnant woman, but are comfortable and also don’t scream ‘I’m pregnant!’ to the world.”
Lyle didn’t miss a beat. “Well, can’t help you there. Sorry.”
“I know. What’s up?”
“How’s ‘Disputed’ coming along?”
That’s what we’d started calling the movie. “Disputed” instead of the full title, “A Disputed Life.”
“On schedule and rolling right along,” I said. “Budget’s a little tight, though. Are you calling to pitch in?”
He laughed. “Nice try.”
“I’m kidding anyway.”
“Listen, I need to know if this thing’s gonna be done in time for Sundance.”
“Absolutely,” I said, even though I had no idea if that was true.
“Great. So we’re in.”
“We are? What about the submission process?”
“Leave that to me,” Lyle said.
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes. I’m cashing in a favor. A big one. ‘Disputed’ is in Sundance. Done deal. How’s that for agent magic?”
. . . . .
Max and I were out by the pool later that evening, watching a sunset that was so gorgeous it almost looked like it was fake, like so many of the ones in movies that I was now able to immediately identify as being CGI instead of real.
“Did he tell you what the favor was?” Max asked.
“No, just that it was a big one.”
“I’ll say. Well, we’re on schedule and, yeah, it’ll be ready.”
I was happy to hear him say that, after promising Lyle earlier that the scheduling would be no problem and that ‘Disputed’ would be ready by Sundance, even thought I only had a slight degree of confidence that it would be. But I also knew Max would have made it work, somehow.
We were sitting on one lounge chair. I was lying between his legs, with my back against his chest, using his shoulder as a head-rest.
Max held a drink in one hand. His other arm hugged my left side, and he had his palm flat on my tummy, which was now showing more and more each day. At least it looked that way to me. In any case, I was no longer freaking out about it, and actually felt more confident. Especially with Max, of course, who had lifted the hem of my shirt so his hand was against the skin on my belly, giving warmth both literally and figuratively.
“Now that we’ve got the good news out of the way,” I said, “I think we need to talk about something serious.”
“I’m not ready yet.”
“For what? You don’t know what I was going to say.”
“Yes, I do, Liv. And I don’t want to talk to my mother yet. Not about the baby, not about anything.”
I shifted around in the chair so I was facing him. He looked surprised in return.
“Max, how long are we going to wait? I know I was the one who said we had to wait a while, but everything’s good now. Every single doctor visit — ”
“I know, I’ve been there for all of them.”
I reached out and put my hand on his chest. “I know you have. I’m just saying that there’s no reason to wait anymore. My parents aren’t happy about us getting married, and I know for damn sure they’re going to freak about the baby. And what are you going to do? Keep it from your mom? Forever?” I shook my head. “Max, we just have to let them know. Getting married is one thing, but the baby…that changes it all.”
“Does it?”
I cocked my head to the side, not understanding why he didn’t get it. “Yes, it does. It really does.”
His eyes had been locked on mine as we spoke, but after my last comment he looked away. First to his right, then to his left, then finally settling on the ocean and the sunset just over my shoulder.
I didn’t want to say anything. I’d already said enough. I wanted to hear what he said after processing it, something I knew he was doing intensely because he moved his hand up toward his face, putting his thumb on his chin and rubbed it. It wasn’t what I’d call a nervous tic, but more like one of those involuntary things people do when they’re in deep thought and don’t even realize what they’re doing.
Long seconds passed, but I kept my gaze trained on his face. Watching him think. Observing him working it out for himself.
He finally spoke: “I want to marry you tomorrow.”
Max looked at me, waiting for me to respond, but I didn’t have a coherent thought beyond the word: “What?”
He sat forward, getting closer to me. He put his hand on the side of my face and brushed my hair off my cheek, tucking it behind my ear.
There was something in his eyes — not lust, like I was used to seeing in moments like this, but a deeply longing look. It was something I’d heard people say, and knew what it meant, but never really knew what it looked like until that moment.
“I love you, Liv. Nothing, and nobody, is going to stand in the way of us. I don’t care who they are. I know you want and deserve a huge wedding — ”
I shook my head rapidly. “No, I don’t want that. I never did.”
“You can have whatever you want,” he said. “I’ll give it to you. I’ll make your dream wedding come true. But think about hopping on a plane with me tomorrow, or tonight…yes, tonight…and it’ll be just the two of us. No worries about anything or anyone else.”
“This is crazy,” I said.
“It is.”
I shook my head slowly and saw the expression on his face change. He probably thought I was going to say no. But I reached my arms out and lunged for him, holding him tight.