Erin looked uncomfortably down at her pristine outfit.
“Nah, not really feeling that,” Max said quickly, before Chloe could pick up on Erin’s reluctance—and the reason for it—and make some sort of sarcastic comment. She might not mean anything by it, but she wasn’t always great at noticing that other people took offense at those comments—and Erin was one of those people.
“Well, what about the zoo?” Chloe pressed.
Max took one of his mother’s smoked salmon sandwiches. She’d even cut the crusts off. “The zoo? Are you serious?”
“Yes. Though actually, seeing the animals in cages might make me a bit sad.” She shoved a sandwich into her mouth whole. “The castle!” Only it came out a little muffled. She swallowed, then tried again. “Belvedere Castle. We definitely have to go there—apparently you can see pretty much round the whole city.” She frowned. “Or maybe it was just round the whole park.”
Erin, who was still nibbling away at her first mini quiche, shook her head. “How are you remembering all these little facts without looking it up?”
“I’ve got a photographic memory,” Chloe said, tapping the side of her head.
“Really?” Erin cocked her head. “I never knew that about you.”
“That’s because it’s not true. Ignore her, Erin.” When Chloe only grinned, Max sighed. “Look, if you’re in planning mode, can you factor in that I have to go into the office at some point this afternoon? I’ve got that work thing on Monday night with these fancy clients, and I said I’d double-check a few things.” He finished his sandwich, then frowned at Erin. “I told you about that, right?” He’d added her as his plus one, being as how he could hardly just leave her at home with his parents on her last night in New York.
“You did,” Erin assured him. “And I’ve got my dress ready.”
“You didn’t tell me about it,” Chloe piped up helpfully. “But that’s OK, I’ll make sure you have time to go to the office. Maybe I can come along too for the ride.”
Max raised his eyebrows. “I doubt Liam will be there, it’s the weekend.” He had to laugh when she pouted.
“And on that note,” Chloe said, “I’m going to the loo. There’s bound to be a public toilet around here somewhere, right?” She glanced around. “I’ll be right back.” Max watched her bound away for a moment, the leather jacket she’d put on to go with her black jeans well and truly suiting the short black hair and making her look like some kind of cute little biker chick. He refused to use the word sexy in relation to his sister. She fitted in totally with New York—there was no way you’d know from looking at her that she was a tourist.
Erin helped herself to a packet of strawberries, picking the stem off one before taking a small bite. Max watched her for a moment. She’d done her face subtly today so that she looked dewy and springlike—a bit like the trees surrounding them. She was so pretty; there was no denying that. Yet he didn’t think he felt it, the usual punch of attraction he had around her. She looked up from the strawberries and saw him watching, smiled. He smiled back, wished it didn’t feel quite so forced.
“So,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I’ve been thinking.”
Max’s stomach jolted, and if he could have grimaced without it being more than a little rude, he would have. He’d thought they’d be able to put off this moment or, best case, that maybe it wouldn’t come at all. He cleared his throat. “Right.”
“I know this year has been tough for you, but I want to be in your life, Max.” Direct and to the point, as always.
He took a sip of his drink—soda water—just for something to do. “You are in my life,” he said, trying for easy and casual.
She kept her eyes on his face. “You know what I mean.”
“Right,” he said again. Because he did. He tapped his fingers against his can. “I thought you said we were different people now, that we’d be better off firmly as friends?” He cocked one eyebrow, kept his tone light. “We were just too comfortable and that’s why we kept coming back for more. I’m pretty sure that’s what you said.” He smiled to let her know he wasn’t saying it resentfully.
She wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t say it quite like that.”
But she had said a version of it and he’d hated it at the time, had gotten all bent out of shape and stormed out of the room. He’d assumed that it was all coming from her, that she was just trying to get rid of him. He’d shouted at her that they’d been through this all before, that she should just make up her damn mind one way or another, and told her he was fed up with being the one she came crying to when something went wrong in her life. Because he’d been offended that she was the one ending it, he hadn’t even bothered to consider the fact that she was right. But then, over the last year, he’d realized that he’d been doing the same—he’d allowed her to be the one he always went running to, without even considering whether it was the right thing for either of them. And so he’d conceded, after learning not to do that, that she’d had a point, that they were probably better off as friends, because being together meant that they were always bursting at the seams a little—both of them growing as people yet unable to, because they kept pulling each other back to each other.