“No, he took it in stride. Actually, I think he was glad. He always worries that you don’t do anything besides work. When you went to Wellfleet, he was so happy. He said, ‘I hope she finds him and he sweeps her off her feet. She deserves someone wonderful.’”
Max covered her face. “That’s really sweet, but ugh…how humiliating.”
“Oh, stop. Your worst drunken night is ten times more tame than my tamest drunken night.”
“Thank you,” Max said. “Whether that’s true or not—and I don’t want to know either way—thank you. I guess we should get my car.”
“We already did,” Kaylie said.
“Who’s we?”
“Me and Chaz. The kids were up at, like, five thirty, so we buckled them in and picked it up. It was better than letting them wake you up, and they love to ride in the car.”
“Kaylie, you’re a godsend.”
“Yeah, well, what can I say?” Kaylie pretended to fluff her hair. “But since I was your pick-up girl, I deserve to know about this whole Treat thing. Last night you were rambling on and on about other girls and Tahiti, or Thailand, or something like that. You made no sense at all, except for the part about you leaving in the middle of the night, which, I might add, was a pretty shitty thing to do.”
“It was the only thing I could do. A guy like Treat can’t give up everything he loves for someone like me. I don’t do social calendars, jetting all over the world, and living out of resorts. And if he gave those things up for me, he’d eventually resent me for it.” I made the right choice, even if I can barely breathe just thinking about not being in his arms.
“But you know how much it hurts to be left like that, Max.” Kaylie shook her head, disappointment obvious in the look of disapproval in her eyes and the way she clenched her lips.
Max felt like she was right back in third grade, when she’d stuck out her tongue at her teacher and her father had given her that same head shake, the same baffled look.
“He did that to you and you about lost your mind, or did you somehow forget that when you were swept into the fated fantasy of love conquers all?” Kaylie left no room for misinterpretation.
“You’re a real ballbuster,” Max said.
“I’m not. I just don’t think you have to hurt people to let them know you love them.”
Max sat straight up. “That’s not why I did it.”
“Come on, Max. This is me you’re talking to. I can spot love from a mile away, and whatever it is that has you running away from him is not very different than whatever caused him to do the same to you.” Kaylie took Max’s cup into the kitchen to get her more coffee. “The only question that remains is, how do you fix it from here?”
Max met her in the kitchen. “What do you mean? It’s already fixed. I’m not letting him give up the things he loves because of me. End of story. Done.”
“Right,” Kaylie said with a roll of her eyes.
“I gotta get home and shower and change. I’m sure Chaz can use some help at work. Then I have to find my cell phone.”
“Well, don’t hurry too much. It’s already one o’clock, so he’s there for only a few more hours. Did you lose your phone?”
“One o’clock? Oh, Kaylie. I’m so sorry. You should have woken me up.” Now I’m a drunken loser, too? I better pull my shit together or I’ll have to add lost job and lost friends to keep my boyfriend company on my Things I’ve Lost list.
“Don’t be silly. Want me to call your phone?” she asked.
“No, it’s not in my purse. It’s probably in my bags at my place. Kaylie, thank you for everything. I mean it. I’ll make it all up to you.”
“No need. That’s what friends are for. But do me a favor. Please just tell me one thing. Did Treat have many women in Thailand?”
Max laughed. “Not that I know of. It sounded like he was negotiating on a resort there and then changed his mind because of me.”
“The man knows how to create a fortune, that’s for sure.”
“He sure does,” Max said in a flat voice. “You know I don’t care about money, right?”
“Yeah, I know. But it doesn’t hurt to know it’s there,” Kaylie said with a smile. “Security, Max. It does make life a little easier when you know you don’t have to sweat every dollar.”
Max grabbed her purse and found her keys on the counter. “Well, he and I won’t be doing any sweating together, so for now I’ll be sweating it out on my own.” She gave Kaylie a hug. “I fixed the rug and made the bed.”
“You didn’t have to do that. I moved the rug last night in case you barfed.”
“Oh my God, Kaylie. Anything else I should know?” Can today get any worse? Max needed a hot shower, a toothbrush, a gallon of water, and about thirty straight hours of sleep.
“Nope. That about sums up your night of debauchery. Let me know what happens with the man, and if you want to talk now that you’re sober—but after you brush your teeth—call me.”
Max smiled. “You’re the best friend ever, you know that?”
“Yeah, I know.”
TREAT AND SAVANNAH sat beside each other on their father’s couch. They’d brought him home at nine o’clock, and he was asleep by ten. Now it was nearing midnight and Treat felt like he’d been running underwater for the past twelve hours. He hadn’t heard back from Max, and he’d left enough messages that she surely had checked them by now.
Rex came in from the barn and joined them in the living room. “Where’s Josh?”
“In the shower. Want a beer?” Treat asked.
“Nah, thanks. I think we need to have a family meeting.” Rex sat in the chair next to their father’s recliner.
Josh joined them a few minutes later. “Savannah, do you want a drink before I sit down?”
“Yeah, I’ll take some wine. Red, please.”
“I’ll get it,” Treat offered. He went to the kitchen. Anything to stop the pain of staring at his father’s empty chair.
In the kitchen, he pulled Josh to the side. “You heard from Hugh?” He didn’t want to ask in front of the others, knowing it would just lead to a brother bashing, and while Hugh probably deserved it, Treat didn’t need one more thing to worry about.
“Yeah, he’s almost here. Got hung up on a layover.”
Treat put an arm around Josh. “Are you doing okay?” Josh was the most sensitive of his brothers, and he wanted Josh to know that he was there if he wanted to talk.
“Yeah, it scared me, though. I’ve never thought of Dad as someone who could get sick.”
“Me either.” Treat took a swig of his beer. “It scared me, too, but I think Ben knows what he’s talking about, and if he thought this was anything other than stress cardiomyopathy he’d tell us.”
“Do you believe in it? Broken heart syndrome?”
Hell yes. I’m afraid I’ll be in the hospital next. “I don’t know, but I do know that Dad believes he still sees and talks to Mom, and I think he just might.”
“Yeah,” Josh said. “Me too.”
“Wine, please,” Savannah called to them.
They settled into the living room, and for a while, they all sat in silence, nursing their drinks. Treat was surrounded by several of the people he loved most in the world, but with what his father was going through, his longing to see the others deepened: his father, Hugh, and Max. He wished Max were right there beside him, holding his hand. He didn’t feel whole without her. His hand felt empty for the first time in his life. The truth was, he’d barely noticed his hands before the last few days with Max, and now his palms had become like empty souls, crying out for her.
The door opened, and they all turned toward it with a shush on their lips.
“Dad’s asleep,” Savannah said as she went to hug her youngest brother. “He’s okay,” she said to him.
Treat embraced Hugh. “You okay? Your trip all right?” He patted the back of his brother’s leather jacket. Even though he was eight years younger than Treat, tonight he could have passed for twenty-five instead of twenty-nine with his tousled, wavy black hair that feathered over his ears, badly in need of a trim, and his Levi’s and Reeboks.
“Long, but I’m here, and that’s all that matters.” Hugh hugged his other two brothers and headed to the kitchen for a drink.
“Do you want me to make you something to eat?” Savannah asked.
“Nah. I grabbed a sandwich on the way here.” Hugh sat beside Savannah on the couch and kicked one ankle up on the opposite knee. “So Dad’s okay? What is this BHS?”
Treat explained what the doctor had told them.
“Sounds like it should be called BS to me,” Hugh joked, his brown eyes flitting from sibling to sibling.
“Hugh.” Treat used the same voice he’d relied upon when his brothers were out-of-control teenagers. It didn’t always work, but it did right then.
“I just mean that I don’t see why they call it that. Call it stress cardiomyopathy. Why does everything have to be about feelings?”
Treat leaned forward, and Savannah put a gentle hand on his leg. “Leave it alone, Hugh. Who cares what they call it? The point is, he needs to take it easy for a few weeks.”