“Don’t make it sound like that, you know full well I’m doing you a favor by making it a group thing and not a date.”
He chose to ignore that. “You barely said two words to him all evening, I doubt he’ll even want to come.”
She shook her head and gave him a wicked look. “Oh, he’ll want to come, trust me.”
Max couldn’t help the little wince. “What’s up with that doctor from your course that you were seeing?”
She shrugged. “He’s boring.” She narrowed her eyes at him and he held up his hands.
“I said nothing.”
“You don’t have to say anything, it’s written all over your face.” Then she sighed. “There’s just no point in keeping at something unless it’s the real thing. You might think I’m harsh, but I’m not. I’m just waiting for the one, you know?”
Max nodded slowly, his attention on the kettle that was now bubbling. “Yeah. I know.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You do?”
He filled the mugs with the boiling water and kissed Chloe briefly on the cheek as he left the kitchen, mugs in hand. “Night, sis.”
His dad was setting up the sofa as a bed for Chloe when Max stepped out of the kitchen into the living room. He caught Max’s eye, then crossed the room to him. Tonight, it seemed, was a night of interrogations. His dad ran one hand through his hair. Like Chloe’s, it was dark, though it was a little longer than hers now, and the flecks of grey became more obvious every time Max saw him, in both his hair and the small beard that he’d let grow out a little in recent years. “I, err, could hear your mother flapping.”
Max took a sip of the normal tea in his right hand. “Yep. But that’s OK, we’re all used to it.”
His dad nodded, then rocked back on his heels. Always took the time to figure out what he wanted to say, his dad. “I know it’s not ideal, living with your parents, but I want you to know that we both mean it. There’s always a place for you here, if you’re not ready to go home yet, or else if you want to come back if things don’t…work out, back there.”
Because he knew how it was meant, that his dad wasn’t trying to push him into anything, Max clapped a hand on his dad’s shoulder. They were almost exactly the same height. “Thanks.”
He turned to go, but his dad spoke up again. “Your mother just worries.”
“I know, Dad.”
“And look, she won’t push—”
“But you will?”
“But she’s getting to know a few people, the longer she’s here,” his dad continued calmly, evenly. “If you wanted to have a chat with someone, consider your options, I’m sure she could introduce you—”
“No, Dad.” It came out more sharply than he’d intended, and Max took a breath. “Look, I’m sorry, but we’ve been through this. It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, it’s just…” It’s just that this was so repetitive, an echo of similar arguments they’d had when he was a teenager, his mother in particular wanting him to do things the way she thought was best—the medical career, especially. But he couldn’t say it, not outright, not without offending one or both of them. So instead he settled with, “I just have to do things my own way, OK?”
His dad stared at him for a moment, as if deciding something, then nodded slowly. “Fair enough. As long as you’re sure. Go and check on Erin before you go to bed, will you? It’s rude to leave a girl like that without saying a proper goodnight.” He turned away, back to the sofa, so he didn’t see Max’s headshake. But really—a girl like that? As opposed to any other girl?
Still, he did just that, knocking on Erin’s door a moment later. She opened it, already in her pajamas but her face not yet stripped of cosmetics. He hadn’t seen her without them in a long time—a privilege he’d given up when they’d broken up.
“I brought you tea,” Max said, lifting the mint tea that he’d made, hoping that it was still what she liked to drink before bed. An offering, he supposed—one to let her know that he was genuinely thankful she’d bothered to come out and see him, no matter what happened next.
She smiled, took it, and opened the door a bit wider. He stepped in, though he left the door open behind him deliberately. She was in the smallest room, but it was still plenty big enough. Her suitcase was currently open on a green-and-brown rug that he thought was hideous but his mother obviously liked, which was covering most of the wooden floor at the foot of the bed. The sight of her clothes neatly folded and piled there made him smile a little. No doubt she was ready to transfer them all to the drawers in the wardrobe, no matter that she was only here for three nights.