Beyond Eighteen(32)

“Oh, darling, you are so welcome,” Nancy answered as she handed Camille her plate. “I’m just so glad you are home with us,” she continued before she came over and lovingly pressed her hands across my shoulders.

“Me too,” I sang. Her eyes sparkled with a familiar tenderness. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to save any of this delicious pie for Max,” I teased.

“Well, Maxi has the entire other half of pie in the kitchen,” Nancy retorted. “It used to be Frank and Maxi who would fight over the last piece. I guess they—Maxi has no competit—sorry,” Nancy choked as her eyes welled with tears.

I didn’t say anything to her, just got up and went over and hugged her. Her small frame crumbled against mine for a moment before she stiffened and collected herself. I felt her body vibrate, like the shiver began in her heart and echoed through every cell of her body.

“Well, I think we should find out what those boys are up to. They’ve been talking business long enough,” Camille said, breaking the thick, smothering air in the room. Nancy nodded in agreement as she swiped a cloth napkin from the table and dabbed her eyes.

“Well, you two go and find the boys. I’m going to wrap up the pie in the kitchen and clear the table.”

“Nancy, let me help you clean this up,” I offered, trying to pick up my plate from the table. Nancy snatched the plate from my hands and shooed me, flapping the napkin at me like it had some power to make me disappear out of the dining room.

“Nonsense, you go on ahead, I’ll be there momentarily.”

Camille clung to my arm and pulled me toward the family room. I couldn’t help feeling guilty for leaving Nancy to clean up dinner. But then again, maybe it was exactly what she needed—a moment alone to cry or pull herself together.

“Wilson, that’s her mechanism for dealing with stress. She cleans,” Camille groaned.

We went into the “Great Room,” as Max called it, thinking they would be deep in discussions about topics important enough to pull them away from Nancy’s mixed berry pie. Well, they were there, paperwork spread across the green felt pool table, with Dan and Calvin talking in a low rumble…but no Max. Camille cleared her throat.

“Hey guys, time’s up.”

They looked up, their expressions worn and tired. I noticed the muscles through the front of their necks constrict and loosen, as if they were swallowing their words.

“Oh, hey, you’re already done with dessert?” Dan asked as he pointed toward the kitchen.

“Yeah, we just wanted to come and see when you guys were coming to have some berry pie,” Camille answered instinctively.

“We’re done. Right, Cal?” Dan volunteered.

“Good, because I think Mom is starting to lose it. Where’s Max?” Camille asked almost like she was irritated.

“He got a call or something; he said he’d be right back. What do you mean lose it? Is she doing that cleaning thing again?” Cal asked as he dragged his hand through his tousled black hair. Dan looked over at Camille before collecting up the papers they had spread across the pool table. I could’ve sworn I saw his eyes dart toward the foyer.

I took advantage of their being in a thick conversation about family matters to slip down the hall and toward the stairs. If Max had an important call to take, he would’ve either headed upstairs to his bedroom where it’s quiet or out into the garage. I won’t lie, a huge part of me hoped he was up in his room, but what I found wasn’t what I expected. Max wasn’t upstairs in his room or out in the garage, he was in the foyer with the front door sprung wide open and Emily Vaughn wrapped in his arms. My heart crashed against my sternum, crumbing into a million pieces. It plummeted into the darkest, deepest part of my gut. The back of my neck became drenched with every fear that pushed through my skin. Suddenly the tables turned and I was watching the man I love more than anything being comforted by another woman.

I didn’t want Max to know I saw him so I pushed my back tight against the wall between the stairs and where they were. My shoulder blades ached from the texture of the wall, my spine straightened by the fear of discovery. I couldn’t fold in half, I couldn’t cry, all I could do was stand and take the punishment for every fucked-up mistake I’d made with Max.

Emily pushed against him, resting her head on his chest. I watched as he embraced her. I heard him whispering to her, words I couldn’t make out. Were they words that belonged to me? My heart thrashed loudly in my ears, my breathing sped, and all I could smell was the sick, syrupy sweetness of her Calvin Klein Euphoria perfume.