Times Square(20)

It occurs to me then that I love a lot of things about him and my stomach tightens. I swore I'd never get this lost in a guy again, but here I am tumbling into love like an idiot.

"Anyway," Molly interjects. "Are you bringing Lauren to the Hamptons for the fourth? You're still coming, right?"

"Yes, we'll be there," he tells her. "And we're taking the pool house."

"You've got a pool house?" I question. I knew about the Hamptons house. It belongs to his father but according to Max he never uses it anymore. I knew we'd be sharing it with his sister, but I was envisioning a shore house filled with beds and dated appliances.

"You haven't been?" Molly questions. "You're going to love it. It's only a couple hours outside of the city and it's a breath of fresh air during the summer. You know how the city gets," she says, scrunching her eyebrows, "all hot and stinky and extra-crowded. We're on the beach if you prefer salt water to chlorine."

"You've got a beach," I repeat with a glance at Max. "And a pool."

"Oh! We'll get ice cream!" Molly continues. "I'll take you to the Fudge Company! They have the best soft serve." Molly claps her hands in excitement. "And candy!"

"What are you, ten?" Max interjects.

"No, I'm just excited you're bringing someone this year who won't hit on my friends," she retorts while shooting him a dirty look. "And you can have the pool house," she adds with a sweet smile. "You should enjoy it while you can. Once you have all those kids you'll have to stay with them in the main house."

"Touché, little sister."

***

Later as we're walking back to Max's apartment he apologizes for Molly's enthusiasm.

"It's okay, I already knew something must be wrong with you."

"Yeah, that I'm related to a crazy person. Don't worry about our future children though. Molly's adopted."

"She is not," I say, laughing while I elbow him in the ribs. "She looks exactly like you."

"Fine, that's a lie." He sighs. "She's my sister. And not even a half-sister."

"I like her."

"Yeah, I like her too." He grins and throws an arm around my shoulders. "So you're looking for things that are wrong with me, huh?"

"Absolutely." I nod. "You're too perfect to be real."

"I really am," he agrees.

"So what is it then, Prince Charming? Gambling debts? An arrest record? A shaky psychiatric past, maybe? You can't possibly have a wife or girlfriend tucked away somewhere, since you've introduced me to your sister."

"No wives. And no girlfriends except yourself," he adds, grabbing my hand as we cross Eleventh Street. It's probably not very mature, but my heart beats a little faster hearing him refer to me as his girlfriend. "I gamble during the occasional guys’ trip to Atlantic City, but I can take it or leave it. I narrowly avoided arrest a couple of times in college, but my record is officially clean. And though I haven't been professionally evaluated, I think my psyche is sound."

"So what about me? Aren't you wondering what my crazy is? Everyone's got some, right? This is still new," I say, gesturing between us. "Maybe I'm just on my best behavior."

"No, I'm not worried." We're standing at the corner of Perry and Hudson, waiting for the light to change so we can cross. He looks me in the eyes when he says it and I think I might swoon on the damn sidewalk, which while romantic is really unappealing because the sidewalks in Manhattan are generally pretty filthy. Then he adds, "I already know what your crazy is."

"What do you think you know?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.

"You get a little nuts if the cream in your morning coffee isn't just so. You pour it in and stir it," he says, mimicking a spoon with his hand. "And then you pour in another drop and stir it again. Every time."

"Fine," I huff. It's true.

"And you panic about running out of cream when you've just opened a brand-new bottle."

"An heir and a spare."

"What?" He glances at me as we walk. "What does that even mean?"

"Royalty? They always have to have an heir to the throne, right? And then they need to have a second in case something happens to the first. So it's an heir and a spare."

"That's fucked up."

"Says the guy who wants five kids."

"What does this have to do with coffee creamer?"

"Oh! I like a spare bottle. Once the main bottle is open, I like to see the spare lined up in the fridge."

"Right." He nods. "Not crazy. I'm two hundred steps from a corner bodega, but a spare bottle of creamer is cause for panic."