to consider this. ‘Yeah, I guess so. If you want me to.’
‘Great, it’s decided then. He’ll pick you up in an hour. He said to bring a bathing suit.’
‘A bathing suit? I’m sure I’ll also need to—’
Emily handed her an oversize DVF straw tote. ‘Bikini – high waisted for you, of course – the cutest little Milly cover-up, floppy sun hat, and SPF 30, oil-free. For afterward, bring those belted white shorts you wore yesterday and pair them with this linen tunic and those cute white Toms. Any questions?’
Andy laughed and waved good-bye to Emily before dumping the contents of the tote on her bed. She grabbed the hat and the sunblock and tossed them back into the bag, adding her own bikini, jean shorts, and tank top. There was only so far she was willing to go with Emily’s dictatorial costuming, and besides, if Max didn’t like her look, that was his problem.
The afternoon was perfection. Together Andy and Max went tooling around in Max’s little speedboat, jumping in the water to cool off and feasting on a picnic lunch of cold fried chicken, sliced watermelon, peanut butter cookies, and lemonade. They walked on the beach for nearly two hours, barely noticing the midday sun, and fell asleep on the cushy lounge chairs beside the Harrisons’ glistening, deserted pool. When she finally opened her eyes what felt like hours later, Max was watching her. ‘You like steamers?’ he asked, a funny little smile on his face.
‘Who doesn’t like steamers?’
They each threw one of Max’s sweatshirts over their bathing suits and jumped in his Jeep Wrangler, where the wind whipped Andy’s hair into a wonderful, salty mess and she felt freer than she had in ages. When they finally pulled up to the beach shack in Amagansett, Andy was converted: the Hamptons were the best place on earth, so long as she was with Max and there was always a bucket of steamers with cups of melted butter beside her. Screw city weekends. This was heaven.
‘Pretty good, aren’t they?’ Max asked as he shucked a clam and tossed the shell in a plastic discard bucket.
‘They’re so fresh some of them are still sandy,’ Andy said through a full mouth. She munched her corn on the cob unself-consciously despite a dribble of butter running down her chin.
‘I want to invest in your new magazine, Andy,’ Max said, looking her straight in the eyes.
‘Really? That’s great. I mean, that’s more than great, it’s fantastic. Emily said you might be interested, but I didn’t want—’
‘I’m really impressed with everything you’ve done.’
Andy could feel herself blush. ‘Well, to be honest, Emily has done almost everything. It’s incredible how organized that girl is. Not to mention connected. I mean, I don’t even know how to put together a business plan, never mind a—’
‘Yeah, she’s great, but I mean everything you’ve done. When Emily approached me a few weeks ago, I went back and read almost everything you’ve written.’
Andy could only stare at him.
‘The wedding blog you write for? Happily Ever After? I have to tell you, I don’t read much about weddings, but I think your interviews are excellent. That feature you did on Chelsea Clinton, right around the time she got married? Really well done.’
‘Thank you.’ Her voice was a whisper.
‘I read that investigative piece you did for New York magazine, the one on the restaurant letter-grading system? That was so interesting. And the travel piece you did on that yoga retreat? Where was that? Brazil?’
Andy nodded.
‘It made me want to go. And I assure you, yoga is not my thing.’
‘Thanks. It, um …’ Andy coughed, trying hard to suppress a smile. ‘It means a lot to hear you say that.’
‘I’m not saying it to make you feel good, Andy. I’m saying it because it’s all true. And Emily has given me an initial sketch of your ideas for The Plunge, which I think sound terrific, too.’
This time Andy allowed herself a wide grin. ‘You know, I have to admit I was skeptical when Emily approached me with her idea for The Plunge. The world didn’t seem to need another wedding magazine. There just didn’t seem to be any place in the market for it. But as she and I talked it through, we realized there was a serious lack of a Runway-esque wedding magazine – super high-end, glossy, with gorgeous photography and zero cheese factor. Something that featured celebrities and socialites and weddings that were financially out of reach for most readers but that still played to their daydreams and plans. A book that offered the sophisticated, savvy, style-conscious woman page after page of inspiration on which she could model her own wedding. Right now there’s a whole lot of baby’s breath and dyeable shoes and tiaras, but there isn’t anything showing a more sophisticated bride her options. I think The Plunge will fill a real niche.’
Max stared at her, a bottle of root beer clutched in his right hand.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to give you the full pitch. I just get excited talking about it.’ Andy took a sip of her Corona and wondered if it was insensitive of her to drink in front of Max.
‘I was ready to invest because the idea is solid, Emily’s very convincing, and you’re extremely attractive. I didn’t realize you can be every bit as convincing as Emily.’
‘I went overboard, didn’t I?’ Andy buried her forehead in her hands. ‘Sorry.’ She said the words, but she could think of nothing other than Max calling her extremely attractive.
‘You’re not just a good writer, Andy. We can all get together in the city and discuss the details next week, but I can tell you right now that Harrison Media Holdings would like to be a principal investor in The Plunge.’
‘I know I speak for Emily and myself when I say we would love that,’ Andy said, immediately regretting her formality.
‘We’re going to make a lot of money together,’ Max said, holding his bottle up.
Andy clinked it. ‘Cheers. To being business partners.’
Max looked at her weirdly but clinked her bottle again and took a sip.
Andy felt momentarily awkward but quickly reassured herself she’d said the right thing. After all, Max was a player. Linked to models and society stick figures. This was business, and business partners sounded good and smart.
The mood had changed, that much was clear, so Andy wasn’t surprised when Max dropped her back at Emily’s in-laws’ right after their late-afternoon steamer expedition. He kissed her on the cheek and thanked her for a great day and made no mention whatsoever of getting together again, save for a meeting in his company conference room with Emily and a full legal and accounting team.
And why would he? Andy wondered. Just because he’d flirted a little and called her attractive? Because together they’d spent a single perfect day? None of it meant a damn thing more than due diligence on Max’s part: he was scoping out his investment, being his usual charming and adorable self and having a little flirtatious fun on the side. Which was, according to Emily and everything she could find online, exactly what Max did, and did well and often. Clearly, none of it meant he
