Riley exhaled heavily. "I know what it's like," he murmured toward his shoes.
"You know what what's like, man?"
Riley's hazel stare found Max. "I know what it's like to lose the woman you love."
Thinking he was joking, the beginning of a laugh and an inappropriate comment pulled at Max's mouth, but it quickly fizzled out in his throat. From the expression on Riley's face, he was deadly serious.
"What? Love? How-you . . . you?" Max wasn't trying to be purposefully obtuse or mean, but Riley, in the almost ten years of their friendship, had never mentioned loving anything other than cars and one-night stands.
Riley breathed a despondent laugh. "Yeah, me." He rubbed a hand across his trimmed beard and sighed. "It's a long story, one that very few people know about, but . . . yeah." He shrugged. "I know people think I'm just some knuckleheaded womanizer who doesn't give a shit, and it's partly true, but there was a time when I wasn't, when I did give a shit about . . . someone."
Max shook his head. Seeing his friend so solemn, so uncharacteristically serious was more than a little unnerving. "Why . . . how did we not- Why didn't you say something?"
Riley gave a wry smile. "And shatter the illusion?" He cleared his throat. "Besides, I've no one to blame but myself." He furrowed his brow. "And it's ancient history."
Max wasn't entirely sure that was the truth, but he nodded to appease him.
"To get a second chance like this doesn't happen for many, Max."
"I know."
"A guy dropped by the shop yesterday while you were at your meeting with Elliot," Riley continued. "Dropped off a sweet '67 Mustang for an oil change. We got to talkin'. Turns out he owns some gallery space uptown. It's kind of a hobby of his, you know, helping young talent in the area to get noticed." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a crumpled flyer. "He invited me to a photography and art show he's hosting there this weekend and, well, let's face it, Carter's ugly ass doesn't look as good in a suit as you do. So I wondered if you'd be my date."
He handed the flyer to Max, who was, despite his confusion, chuckling. He took the flyer sensing that he was missing something. He looked down at it and his mouth dropped open. "Holy shit."
"Yeah. I thought that's what you'd say."
Max's eyes traced Grace's name across the top of the flyer, alongside a photograph that he recognized from her living room in West Virginia. "Her show," he whispered. "Dammit, she took all those photos for this show she said she was doing and-I forgot . . . I didn't even know it was in New York."
"She'll be there," Riley said cautiously. "This might be the shot you've been waiting for."
Max stuttered. "I . . . I'm not sure if- Should I?" He wasn't certain arriving unexpectedly on Grace's big night was the right thing to do. He had no idea how she'd react.
Riley reached out and squeezed Max's shoulder. "I'll let you decide that." He patted him and maneuvered around Max to get back to the door. "Let me know what you want to do, okay?"
Max nodded, still staring at the flyer in his hand. "I will." He looked up. "Hey, Riley. Thanks, man."
Riley nodded. "Sure."
"Are you going?" Tate asked before he took a sip of the mango juice Max had poured for him.
"Of course," Max replied, sitting down in his usual chair while Tate all but lounged on the sofa. His T-shirt was faded black across which, in a familiar yellow font, it read, "Jedi on the streets. Sith in the sheets."
Max blinked in bewilderment before asking, "You don't think I should?"
Tate shook his head. "I'm with Elliot, I absolutely think you should go, but I'm wondering what you think will happen."
Max blew a breath between his lips, turning it into a raspberry. "Who knows? All I can do is hope she'll give me a chance and listen."
"And if she doesn't?"
"I wouldn't blame her. I was . . ."
"A fucking asshole."
"Yeah." Max snorted.
"But are you a fucking asshole who's going to hit something hard to ease the pain if she turns you down?" The serious concern in Tate's voice was punctuated by the way he stared at Max, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Sorry. But I have to ask, buddy."
Max licked his lips. "Honestly? I haven't thought about drink or powder since I saw Lizzie." He glanced toward the living room window of his apartment and to the clear blue sky beyond it. "It's like, now that she and I have said good-bye, I can breathe. Like I got closure or something."
Tate's mouth pulled into a knowing smile. "Yeah, man. I hear ya."