small thing, but lovely.
“Can I ask you something? It’s personal and might be stupid.”
“Go for it. I’m sure I’ll survive.” It couldn’t be worse than stuff my parents came up with.
“Have you always been bi? Or is that because...Eli...” He fumbled the question, but I suspected I knew where he was trying to go.
I laughed softly. That was dumb, yes, but cute. “Yeah. It’s not because he died and I’ll never love another man, so therefore only women are left to me as romantic options.”
“You must think I’m an idiot.” The bed shifted, and I snuck a peek to catch him burying his face in his pillow as if in embarrassment.
“It’s not the worst question I’ve been asked, trust me.”
“Is it...superdifferent?” At the moment, Max might set the bedding on fire with hot awkwardness, but I could tell he was honestly curious, not perving on the idea of me with a girl.
“The energy’s much different with a woman, yeah. But sex can be good or bad either way. I’ve been with women who expected me to do all the heavy lifting and men who didn’t know where to touch. For me, it’s all a head game anyway. My partner has to get me going intellectually before I want to fuck.”
“You’re definitely not shallow.”
“I can’t be,” I said quietly. “I know what I bring to the table, and it’s not a pretty face or a perfect body. Therefore, I value other assets and...I work with what I’ve got.”
He was quiet for a few seconds. “I think maybe Eli was the luckiest guy in the world.”
“Why?”
“Because you loved him.”
Because you loved him.
As I put on the black dress again, I heard Max’s whisper again in my head. Eli was silent. I toweled my hair since the dryer wasn’t working, then I daubed on some make-up, subdued for the occasion. My hair looked strange, but I hadn’t packed any product, so I smoothed it down as best I could and clipped the over-long bangs out of my face with a plain barrette.
Max rapped on the door. “You about ready?”
“Just need to brush my teeth. Give me a sec.”
Hesitating afterward, I swung away from my reflection with a soft curse. I pulled a smile into place by the time I opened the door, so Max could shower. Doing him a favor, I hid the god-awful tie that looked like something my uncle Gilbert would wear and went into the other room to watch the small TV. Or pretend to, rather. The night before left me feeling strange and exposed. Can’t wait to get back to Michigan, back to normal. Where Max and I didn’t act bizarre and emotional around each other.
I heard him bang out of the bathroom and rummage around the bedroom for a few minutes. He came to the doorway, dress shirt unbuttoned and untucked; I felt bad because I totally scoped out his chest and abs before I caught myself. The dark, trailing ink of an intriguing tattoo curled over his ribcage and under the white fabric. Surprise flared when I realized I wouldn’t mind pulling his shirt all the way off and checking out his ink. That’s...inconvenient. Eyes up. Raising my brows, I pretended I didn’t know what his problem was.
“I can’t find my tie.”
“If you need one, we’ll stop somewhere on the way, okay? I’ll pick it out.” That was meant as both a bribe and a distraction.
“Okay. I think I saw a menswear shop not too far from the funeral home.”
Nodding, I grabbed my purse and followed him out of the small suite that belonged to us for the next couple of days. The bike was around back, so we went out that way, much less picturesque than the front, especially with the Dumpsters nearby, but since it hadn’t been stolen, I counted that a win. On the way, we stopped for fast-food breakfast sandwiches and ate them next to the motorcycle, which he parked in a metered spot outside the clothing store. Silently I dropped in a quarter, taking in his tiredness and the shadows beneath his eyes. The cheap safety razor did a piss-poor job on his dark scruff, so his face was patchy, particularly on his chin.
“Can’t take your eyes off me, huh? I get a lot of that.”
“I’m sure you do.” The circumstances made me gentle, but he surprised me by blushing.
“Okay, it freaks me out when you’re nice to me.”
“Can you put up with it for two more days?”
He smiled. “I’ll manage.”
Once we finished breakfast, I pushed into the cramped store to the jingle of customer-announcing bells. A gray-haired man came out of the backroom, wilting a little when he saw us. I guessed we didn’t look like big spenders, and since Max only needed a tie, his radar was working fine. But he still smiled, which spoke well of his customer service skills.
“Anything I can help you find?”
I shook my head, leading the way over to a small table with ties laid out in a fan. “Are there any colors you hate passionately?”
“Lime green.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you anyway.”
“How about this one?” Pulling a red, white, gray and black plaid one out of the pile, I held it up against his white shirt. Since he was wearing plain gray trousers, I thought it worked.
Max didn’t look too sure. “Isn’t it a little...”
“What?”
“Burberry. You know, designer-asshole-looking.”
“This isn’t the same pattern, but if you don’t like it—”
“Do you?”
“What?”
“Like it.”
I smirked up at him. “Well, the one you had on before was a pimp-city special. The only way it could’ve been worse is if it had palm trees and glitter.”
“Fine, I’ll take this one. Obviously I have bad taste in dress clothes.” From his sulky tone, he thought his old tie was awesome.
“Jackets are sixty percent off,” the salesman tried. “With your build, I have plenty of blazers that would look great on you.”
To my surprise, Max turned to me with a half frown. “Do you think I should I get one?”
“Do you trust me to dress you?”
“Yes,” he said simply.
So I plucked a black blazer off the rack in his size, along with a thin cloud-gray sweater-vest. “Put it all on, including the
