The Right Fit

Chapter 25

“You look like you’re going to be sick. Is your sandwich off or something?” Crosby crinkled up her nose. The new diamond stud captured the light above, momentarily blinking at Maxine.

“Sorry, what?” Maxine turned away from the bistro window.

“You were going to tell us your news,” Rose prompted, but her voice was laced with worry. She and Crosby traded expressions. “You sounded excited over the phone.”

Maxine’s smile slipped back in place. Antony was flying back to Toronto tonight, and she was completely giddy with the idea of seeing him that when Rose called to chat, Maxine blurted out that they should meet for lunch with Crosby.

She felt dopey with anticipation knowing that her sisters would be thrilled for her, she’d planned on keeping Antony a secret, but since the phone call from Florida she’d been picturing him becoming part of her life. It was a terrifying and exhilarating prospect, like jumping off the high dive platform for the first time.

In a flash of inspiration, Maxine started pulling down old sweaters she still loved but were too small. She thought of the pin up girl Antony had been describing, and was toying with the sexy idea of dressing up for him.

Then the white box toppled down when she’d grabbed a pile of pullovers. The lid slipped off and the wedding invitations fell to the floor, scattering between her feet.

Johnny. Damn it.

And before she could stop herself, she slipped back into the memory, the image of him superimposed over the present. It was like seeing a movie with no way of turning it off.

Maxine watched as Johnny shoved the clothes he’d kept in her top drawer into a small duffel bag. Her eyes were throbbing and gritty. She stood with her arms at her sides, dumbfounded, stunned into silence.

Johnny had arrived unannounced with a small cardboard box and his leather overnight bag, which had been traveling between his apartment and Maxine’s for four years.

He moved from her bedroom to the hallway, snatching his collection of coupons from under the magnet on the fridge.

She must have made a sound then, a mild declaration of opposition, because he finally turned to her. “I never lied to you, Maxine,” he said.

“You’re having an affair,” she said straight forward, her nerves deadened by the complete obliteration of her reality.

“You must have known; we stopped having sex three months ago.” Then he turned and entered the living room. The cardboard box that had been placed on the uncluttered table was now full of Johnny’s finance magazines. His gaze focused on the flat screen television and console. “If you’d asked me, I would have told you. All you had to do was voice your suspicions.”

The dullness in Maxine’s soul began to dissipate. A sharpness cut through the misery, fanned by angry desperation. “We’re engaged,” she sputtered.

He folded the box closed and pulled up the shoulder strap of his duffle bag. “Just because we talked about it, doesn’t make it real,” his tone, sarcastically apologetic. “There’s no ring. How can we be engaged if I never gave you a ring? Hmm?”

A stone the size of her heart stuck in Maxine’s throat. “We talked about buying a house. We were going to adopt a dog. I showed you wedding invitation samples. I even had one drawn up as an example.” Her voice was starting to rise. “You commented on the font!”

Johnny grabbed the box and pushed past her to the front door. “I don’t remember.”

Maxine raced back to her bedroom and took one of the white cards from the mess on the floor where she’d dropped them the day before. She threw herself between Johnny and the door, shoving the stationary in his face.

“You said Times New Roman! I changed the lettering, I had it centered and embossed in black. It’s perfect! I had the rest printed up as a surprise.” Her voice started to crack. “How can you be having sex with someone else while criticizing the font on our wedding invitation?” she screamed. “How?”

“Maxine,” he hissed, looking at the door as if the whole world was listening on the other side. “Whatever we had wasn’t the romance you thought. I’ve fallen in love with someone else. You have to accept that. And I have to go.”

“No!” She pulled on the box. “You’re not leaving!” “Stop it! You’re embarrassing yourself.” Then he leaned in so close she could count the furrows the comb had left in his hair. She was still wearing the dress she had on yesterday, there was a stain on the front with a

few crumbs.

“I know you’ll be telling everyone how I cheated on you, but I never lied to you, Maxine. If anyone was pretending in this relationship it was you.”

After he left, Maxine stared at the door for another hour, still trying to wake up from this nightmare. He’ll come back, she kept telling herself. But he never came back. He even hired someone to come get the flat screen television.

The memory left Maxine somber, her previous anticipation had dissipated. Would he ever stop sneaking into her mind? These days it was worse because she wasn’t expecting it, Antony had taken up most of her imagination.

She’d cursed and kicked the box with her foot, sending more invitations across the floor. Old insecurities rose to the surface. The sweater idea seemed ridiculous now. Antony probably made the story up on the spot, trying to make her feel better about her weight. Had she imagined a more romantic relationship with Johnny? Was she doing it now with Antony?

With the cloud of Johnny hanging over her head like a perpetual rainstorm, Maxine put on her layers of warm clothes and met her sisters for lunch.

Now, over plates of grilled avocado with brie, tomato, and beansprout sandwiches, Maxine took a deep breath, ready to jump off the high dive again, as it here. She simply told her sisters, “I met someone.”

A half hour later, their little table was cleared of lunch plates and covered in lattes and dessert plates.

“What’s the name of his towing company again?” Rose asked, her fingers twitched like she was dying to grab her notepad and pencil and jot notes. You have no idea how many people money launder drug profits in this city,” she arched a challenging eyebrow. “I have my finger on the pulse of the darker side of Toronto.” Then her eyes grew wide and she whispered, “Mafia.”

“You work for the paper and write columns about people killing each other every day. That doesn’t make you an expert on my love life.”

“I’m just saying be careful.”

There was a lull in the conversation at their little table. Maxine folded and refolded the napkin, pressing her finger along the crease. “He keeps me from thinking about Johnny—like a rebound is supposed to do, but now I can’t stop thinking about him. I’m worried I’m only replacing memories of Johnny instead of actually moving on. Maybe I’m only using him?”

Crosby brought the cappuccino mug to her lips, her bangles slid and tinkled along her arm. “Romance isn’t about who you should love the most. It’s about who makes you feel the most loved.” She sipped her drink.

“That’s hardly helpful,” Rose said, pressing her fork into the pie crumbs. “She turned to her older sister. “Why are you worried about how much you like this guy?”

Maxine cupped her hands around her mint tea, considering the question. Rose was skilled at getting to the heart of the matter. The memory of Johnny slipped a splinter of doubt into her feelings for Antony. She glanced out the window; the sky was heavy with threatening layers of gray. “It’s all so physical. What if that’s all there is?”

“Why does he have to be your rebound? Maybe he’s your next boyfriend,” Rose suggested, completely dedicated to logical reasoning.

“It’s so different than it was with Johnny though,” Maxine said.

“That’s a good thing,” Crosby said.

Still, Maxine wondered if she was setting herself up for another heartbreak. As much as she tried to keep her feelings in check, Antony was getting under her skin, making her giddy, giving her hope. She dared to think about a future with him.

The bistro began to empty out. Maxine softened her voice. “Everything is so intense with this guy. I’ve never felt this way before, but I worry it’s too much, that it will fizzle out or something.”

Rose pushed her plate away and tightened her ponytail. “What do you want?”

Maxine smiled. “I want more.” “Then tell him that.”

“How?”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Easy, just say—hold on, what’s his name again?”

“Antony.”

Crosby squealed. “I love it, sounds like a Roman soldier.”

“I know!” Maxine laughed.

Rose cleared her throat. “You say, ‘Antony, I like you, I want to see you more.’ What? Why are you laughing?” She tossed her napkin at Crosby. “That’s a perfectly reasonably statement.”

Maxine said, “But what if he says no?”

“Romance means taking a chance.” Crosby reached out and squeezed her hand. “Besides,” she said. “I haven’t seen you smile this much in over six months.”

When she returned to her apartment, the snow flurries had gained in number, promising an impending storm. Maxine began to check the airport website for flight cancellations, but she didn’t know which airline Antony was flying with.

Needing a distraction, she opened her laptop and searched for an image of Antony’s pin up girl with the half-knitted sweater. When she found the redhead in the seductive pose, it was like fireworks set off inside her heart. The simple existence of this image convinced her that Antony could be trusted. “If I can trust him with my body,”—she said out loud—“I can trust him with my heart.”

She picked out an outfit to change into then went to her nail polish stash. The deep red shade caught her eye. Maxine was thrilled to read, Art of Seduction, on the bottom of the bottle.

Antony would be coming over tonight…hopefully with condoms. He asked for the lights to stay on. A warmth began to spread out from her stomach, then downward.

Her phone buzzed from the kitchen counter.

Ace.

Antony’s voice echoed from far away. His words were muffled. “Bad news.”

“Your flight is delayed?” “Non, very bad.”