“What’s it like, anyway? Having dyslexia.”
“It’s frustrating at times. Have you ever gotten really drunk and tried to read something? You can’t quite make out the words, so you’re squinting at the paper, but you’re also rocking back and forth so you just can’t grasp the letters with your focus? It kind of looks like a bunch of symbols that don’t make too much sense.”
“Is this a trick question to assess my character?”
My brows drew together. “No.”
“Then the answer is yes.”
I laughed. “Well, that’s sort of what reading can be like for me.”
“Doesn’t seem like it’s stopped you from doing much.”
I shook my head. “In some ways, I think it actually helped me. It taught me a work ethic at a young age.”
Max put on his blinker and got off at the next exit—the Van Wyck Expressway.
“Umm… Where are we going?”
He grinned. “I told you. My brother’s for dinner.”
I looked around. “Does your brother live at the airport?”
Max had arrived at my apartment in a sleek, black convertible Porsche with Four in a small travel caddy in the backseat. He’d said it took about an hour to get to his brother’s, so I’d assumed he lived in Westchester or Long Island.
“I have practice at eight AM tomorrow. I promise I won’t have you out too late.”
“But where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
We passed a dozen color-coded signs for all the different terminals at JFK, yet Max never turned. Instead, he exited onto an area that looked industrial, a combination of airplane hangars and office buildings. A few blocks down, he pulled into a parking lot.
“Are we here?” I looked at the sign hanging from the building. “What’s Empire?”
He smirked. “It’s driving you crazy, isn’t it?”
A guy in Dockers and a polo walked out from the building. He strolled directly to Max’s car and opened the driver’s side door.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Yearwood. We’re all ready for you.”
Max shut off the ignition and tossed the keys to the guy. “Thanks, Joe.” He got out of the car, jogged around to my side, and opened my door, extending a hand to help me out. Then he grabbed the dog from the backseat.
“Did I forget to mention that my brother lives in Boston? Empire is a private jet company.”
“You have a private jet?”
He shook his head. “The owner of my team does. He lets us use it whenever we need to.”
Max kept my hand after helping me out of the car. He entwined our fingers, and we walked hand in hand to the door.
“I’ve never been on a private plane. So I’m impressed,” I said. “But I’m still not sleeping with you.”
“So I should have them take the rose petals off the bed in the back then?”
I stopped. “You’re kidding, right?”
Max winked. “Of course. The flight up to Boston is only forty minutes. I need way more time than that when I get you under me.”
? ? ?
A black Town Car waited on the tarmac when we landed. It scooped us up and began the drive into downtown Boston. A half hour later, we pulled to the curb in a residential neighborhood—a really nice one on the outskirts of the Charles River in an area called Back Bay.
“Are we here?”
Max nodded and pointed to a beautiful, old building. “Remember how I told you my oldest brother had to come bail my ass out when I got into a little trouble gambling during college?”
“Yes?”
“Well, I don’t think I mentioned that Tate stuck around for a few days after that. On the last night he was supposed to be here, we went out to a local bar, and he met a girl named Cassidy. They hit it off, so he wound up canceling his flight and staying three weeks longer. He’s a programmer, so he can work from anywhere. When he finally went back to Washington, he lasted two weeks before he packed his shit and moved to Boston. They’ve been married seven years and have three daughters.”
“And they’re the ones who had Four?”
“Yep. Katie is allergic, but her mom doses her up with antihistamines when I come so the girls can at least have him visit.”
I shook my head. “I still can’t believe you took me on a private plane to Boston for dinner.”
Max smiled. “Are you mad?”
“No. You make things into an adventure. But it is a little odd to be traveling to meet a guy’s family when we’ve only just met ourselves.”