Indiscretion: Volume Four (16 page)

That evening I sat in my living room with a book in my hand, trying my best to push the conversation with Paul from my head—which proved impossible. There was something he wasn’t saying. What could it be, though? And why would he care if I went to see Max? Had Max been miserable all these months and Paul was just trying to be a good friend, or was it something more?

I put the book down since I’d reread the same page ten times already and still had no idea what the words said. Pacing across the hardwood floors, I tried to imagine what a reunion with Max would be like.

I ached to see him, there was no question, but I couldn’t even begin to guess if he’d be happy to see me. I was still heartbroken over all that he’d said to me the last time I’d seen him, so what was the point? If Paul thought that Max wanted to see me, why wouldn’t Max just have called me himself?

Shit!
This is all so confusing.

I walked to my kitchen and pulled my phone from my purse. I needed to talk to Jackie and see what she had to say about all this.

The phone rang and she picked up on the first ring. “Hey, babe. What’s shakin’?”

“I need some advice.”

“What’s going on?” she asked, sounding concerned.

I filled her in on my sketchy conversation with Paul. When I was finished, she didn’t say much for a minute. I waited impatiently. “Well?”

“I don’t what to say,” she admitted. “Do you even want to see the guy again?”

“I have no idea,” I groaned. “Up until today—no—I didn’t. It would’ve been too difficult. But the look on Paul’s face, Jackie…I can’t help feeling like something’s wrong.”

She blew out a breath. “If he wanted to see you, why wouldn’t he have just called you himself?”

“I don’t know, that’s the thing. I have no idea why Paul would even care if I saw Max again.”

“Are you ready to go through all that again?” her voice was stern.

“Pardon?”

“I remember what you were like when he first left. You were a mess! You could barely function. You’ve only started to get your shit together these past couple of months. I’m scared that if you do see him again, regardless of the reason, you’ll be reduced to being that person again.”

A tear escaped my eye, and I quickly swiped it away. I didn’t want to be stuck in that cycle of pain again either. “I know, I just…my gut is telling me something is really wrong. I can’t shake it.”

“Have you tried googling him?” Jackie suggested.

“No, though that’s a good idea.” I couldn’t do it before, but now it made sense. I needed to see if I could find anything out before I willingly put myself out there to be stomped on again. Though, I still wasn’t sure if I could handle seeing pictures of him with someone, so I asked Jackie, “Can you do it and tell me if anything comes up?”

“Of course, honey. Hang on a sec.”

A few minutes later, mission complete, Jackie came back on the line. “Nothing,” she said, sounding surprised. “Like nothing at all on him since he left Bar Harbor. The odd mention of his name in a newspaper or online article in regards to the building collapse and stuff like that, but besides that—nothing.”

It struck me as odd that there wouldn’t be anything at all on him. What had he been doing? “Thanks,” I muttered, sitting there silently for a minute, further contemplating when Jackie sighed.

“We both know what you’re going to do, so just get on with it.”

She was right. The minute Paul had said those words to me, there was really no decision to be made. Like a lot of things in life, it was inevitable.

Chloe

I stepped out of the cab, standing in front of the address Paul had given me, and looked up at an imposing concrete building. It stretched up into the sky, staring down on the world, and I wondered if Max was somewhere inside.

“Can I help you, Miss?” I dragged my gaze down to see a doorman dressed in a red uniform standing in front of me. He was probably nearing sixty or so, with grey hair and crinkle lines around his eyes.

“Yes, I’m here to see Max Richfield.”

He frowned. “Is he expecting you?”

I shook my head. “Not exactly.”

Pursing his lips, he opened the door and motioned me inside. “Come get in out of the cold. Go see Kyle at the desk, and he can call up for you.”

I nodded my thanks to him and walked into the massive lobby. It hadn’t even dawned on me that I would need permission to get up to Max’s condo. I walked up to the counter where a guy of about thirty sat, smiling at me.

“Can I help you?” he asked politely.

“I’m here to see Max Richfield.” I tried to sound confident in my presence there.

“Is he expecting you?” Why was everyone asking me that?

“Not that I know of. I was in the area and thought I’d stop by for a quick visit.”

He nodded and picked up the phone on the counter in front of him. “What’s your name?” he asked. I told him and he pressed a few buttons, then waited.

“It’s Kyle from the front desk. I have a Chloe Griffins here to see Mr. Richfield.”

I briefly pondered who he could be talking to since it obviously wasn’t Max himself. Maybe Max had people on staff? I prayed it wasn’t a girlfriend, or this was bound to be even more humiliating than when I’d declared my love for him and he’d shit all over me.

The anxiety coursing through me had my chest constricting and I worked to slow my breathing. The last thing I needed was to hyperventilate and end up face first on Italian marble.

Kyle’s eyes flicked up to me. “Mmmhmm. I understand. I’ll tell her.” He hung up the phone and looked at me apologetically.

“I’m sorry, but since Max wasn’t expecting you. I can’t let you up.”

Regardless of the fact that he’d pushed me away, it stung that he wouldn’t even deem me worthy of a few minutes of his time. “Did you speak with Max?”

“I spoke with Mrs. Richfield.”

Mrs…?
I gulped down the vomit that had raced up to the back of my throat. Max was married?

The look on my face must’ve given me away because the clerk tried to make me feel better. “I’m sorry, but his mother doesn’t want any visitors today.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. His mother. Of course.

I squared my shoulders—ready for a fight. “I need you to ask Max himself if I can come up.”

His expression was sympathetic. “Miss, I’m sorry—”

I smacked my hand down on the counter in front of me. “No! You don’t understand. I’m not leaving here until I get to see him.”

The clerk blinked, then replied, “I really can’t. I don’t want to get into trouble. Please don’t make me call security on a nice girl like you.” His eyes were pleading.

I met his gaze and leaned forward, pointing my finger at him. “If you ask Max if I can come up, and he says no, I’ll leave. But only then.”

He looked at me, contemplating. Then on a heavy sigh, he picked up the phone again. “I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs. Richfield, but Miss Griffins is very insistent that she speak with Max. Is there any way possible that you could pose the question to him directly?” He listened for a moment, and then, “Yes, Ma’am.”

Covering the receiver with his hand, he whispered fiercely at me, “There better be one hell of a tip in this for me because she’s not happy. I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t report me, and I lose my job.”

I cringed. “I’m sorry, it’s really important.”

He uncovered the phone and nodded. “I’ll send her right up. Thank you.”

“You’re one lucky girl, I guess.” I mentally scoffed at his statement. He nodded toward the elevators. “You can head up. Hit PH and it’ll take you there.”

“Thank you so much for your help,” I said, dropping some bills on the counter and already walking away. In the elevator, I pressed the button and, as the doors closed in front of me, the nerves really started to set in. It’d been months since I’d seen Max. I had no idea what to expect. Would he be angry that I was here? Happy to see me? Had he moved on with his life?

The elevator pinged and the doors opened into a large foyer. My shoes clicked against white marble floors, and a large round table stood in front of me, balancing out the space, various types of sculptures displayed on it. They each probably cost more than I made in a year. I walked a little further and was confronted with a massive open concept penthouse. Windows lined the majority of the apartment, and a long terrace
ran the length of them.

A woman, presumably his mother, stepped out of a hallway beyond the great room. Her eyes were the same shape as Max’s but, instead of a crystal blue, they were dark brown. Her brown, chin-length hair was styled in a bob, and her attire screamed Park Avenue. As she drew closer to me, I realized something was off. She looked like she’d been crying. The whites of her eyes were bloodshot, puffy underneath. Dread spread low in my belly at her appearance.

“You must be Chloe,” she said, feigning politeness.

I nodded, unsure what to say.

She didn’t look happy to see me. “I only let you up here at Max’s insistence. You can have ten minutes and no more. He needs his rest. Follow that hallway, and it’s the last door on the right.”

I nodded again, swallowing past the lump in my throat. Unease settled it’s heavy weight on me—why had she been crying and why did Max need his rest? This woman was going to think I was a mute if I didn’t say something soon. “Thank you,” I finally responded and started down the hall.

There were pictures along the wall—large black and white prints with white matting around them. I recognized them as some of the more prominent buildings Richfield Developments had designed and built. When I reached the door in question, I knocked softly and placed my hand on the handle.

“Come in.” Max’s voice was quiet and barely audible, but I heard it nonetheless. I’d been waiting months to hear it again. I closed my eyes and enjoyed a brief moment before I was confronted with whatever reality was behind the door.

I inhaled deeply and pushed the door open. I’d thought I had steeled myself for what I might find…but nothing could’ve prepared me for this.

Chloe

Max was lying in his bed, surrounded by hospital equipment. Various monitors beeped and hummed, an oxygen tube in his nose. He was hooked up to an IV and wore a hospital gown. It was a shock. Yet all of that was not what struck fear in my heart, the likes of which I had never felt—even when confronted with the bear in Acadia Park.

He’d lost an enormous amount of weight—too much. His cheeks were sunken in, and his color was all off—a sick mixture of grey and white. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes, and any muscle mass he’d had before had clearly been lost. I couldn’t see his legs, but his arms were bony limbs laying limp at his sides. His head had no hair on it, his eyebrows absent.

I gasped and my hands few up to cover half my face of their own volition. Tears sprang to my eyes, threatening to spill over. “Oh, Max,” I breathed, walking unsteadily toward the bed.

He smiled weakly at me. “You need to put a mask and all that other gear on.” He lifted his feeble hand and pointed to the door I’d just come in. I’d been so focused on him that I hadn’t even noticed the table holding all the infection control items. I quickly made my way over and put on the hospital gown, gloves and mask, then made my way to the chair at the side of the bed.

“What’s going on?” I whispered, past the painful lump of emotion in my throat.