Carter smiled gently at Max. "You hungry? I could fix something."
Max frowned. "You? Cook?"
Kat snickered and looked down at the RSVP in her hand.
"Well, no," Carter answered while scratching his cheek. "But I know how to order a pizza."
Max's smile was small, but it was there. "No, man. I . . . I think I'll turn in, if that's okay?"
Carter's eyes drifted to the clock on the wall. It was a little after 9 p.m. "Sure."
"I put new sheets on the bed and there's a towel there if you want a shower," Kat offered.
Max dipped his chin a little. "Thanks."
He grabbed his bag from where Carter had placed it by the door and wandered through the apartment toward the spare room. Carter exhaled when he heard the door click shut.
"You okay?" Kat asked, pushing her hand into his and squeezing.
Carter shook his head. "I'm worried about him."
Kat stood from her seat and walked around the breakfast bar. She wrapped her arms around Carter's neck and held him tightly. "I know, sweetheart. I know."
Max was still awake at 3 a.m.
He'd dozed on and off for a few hours, played on his phone, taken a pill, but nothing seemed to work. He scowled accusingly at the crumpled envelope he'd placed on the bedside table. Max must have read the letter at least twenty times and each time it caused his lungs to contract and his heart to pound. Parts of what was written flittered through his mind, tumbling and scratching at wounds he thought long ago healed.
Max, I've picked up this pen so many times over the years, thinking I was ready to write this letter . . . I'd really like to see you . . . If we could talk . . . I know you might not want to . . . What I did was inexcusable . . . There are things to say. I'll be in New York for a week . . .
His mind reeled, never slowing down, or shutting the hell up long enough for him to fall into a deep sleep. It was relentless.
The last good night's sleep he'd had-fuck . . . he'd slept next to Grace.
With that thought, Max shoved the covers away in frustration, grabbed a pair of sleep pants from his bag, and snuck out of the bedroom into the apartment, his bare feet quiet on the wooden floor. Making his way into the apartment proper, where the kitchen was set off from the living room, Max stutter-stepped when he realized Kat was also awake, sitting at the breakfast bar where he and Carter had found her when they arrived, the small light from under the stove hood the only illumination. She looked up, seemingly unsurprised to see him there.
"Hey. Everything okay?" she asked before he could turn and run.
He crossed his arms over his bare chest. "Um . . . can't sleep."
"Me either." She looked back down at the book lying open on the bar. She turned a page. "Wedding plans are not conducive to a good night's sleep." She smirked. "Except if your name is Wesley Carter." Her eyes found the direction of their bedroom. "Man could sleep through World War Three."
Max smiled. "He always was a heavy sleeper."
Kat sighed. "Do you want a hot drink? I have cocoa. I was just debating whether or not to have one to help me sleep."
Max took another step closer, warmed by her sincerity. "Sure."
He watched Kat lift from her seat and start moving around the kitchen, grabbing milk, cocoa powder, and cups. He parked his ass on the seat opposite hers and glanced down at what she'd been reading. It was a wedding catalog.
"Carter tell you that I'm driving him crazy with all this?" She gestured with a wave of her hand toward a pile of dried flowers, ribbons, fabric samples, and other terrifying wedding-type horrors sitting on the kitchen counter.
"No," Max replied quickly.
Kat caught his eyes. "You're as bad a liar as he is."
Max snorted quietly. "He may have mentioned it. But he just wants you to be happy."
He saw a smile pull at the side of her mouth as she poured hot water into the cups. "I am." She brought the cups over, placing one in front of him. "See that drawer by your knees?"
Max looked down, noticing a hole in the wood of the breakfast bar big enough for the tip of an index finger. "Yeah."
"Open it, would you?"
Max did as she asked and grinned when he saw what was in it. Packs of Oreos, chocolate with Oreo pieces, and all manner of other cookie treats filled the drawer. He looked up at her with wide, amazed eyes. "This his secret stash?"
Kat shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye. "He thinks it's secret. Just like the one in his man cave at the beach house."
Max pulled out a pack of Oreos. "Bastard would never give up where he kept them. It was always a nightmare when we partied here and got a mad case of the munchies."