Max

Max stared at a very stunned-looking Patricia, who was now sitting up a little straighter—tenser. It'd be worth having to hear the shit he knew he was in for from his nephew if this got back to him. Moe's comment about her still not being over her ex was the only thing putting a slight damper on what was otherwise turning out to be another amusing-as-hell day with Patricia. If he had to sit here and listen to her refer to her ex as brilliant, then Max wasn't letting her off the hook.

"Romero told you this?" she asked, looking beyond annoyed. "How would he know—?"

"He said your sister worries that you might still be pining for the guy." He shrugged, and for the first time in . . . ever, he had to force a smirk. "But you can't tell her I told you. Moe wasn't gossiping."

She tilted her head, still looking very much annoyed. "Really? What else would you call it, Max?"

"Let's just say I got a little warning this morning about not getting any ideas about you." He brought one of his legs half up the sofa as he sat further back and made himself comfortable. "Are you over your ex?"

Her expression changed to a more quizzical one. "Why would he warn you? What did you tell him?"

"Nothing."

He explained quickly about that morning and how, after he reminded Moe that he didn't do relationships, his nephew jumped all over him and told him about Izzy's worries. "Thinks your vulnerable because of it. Are you?"

She was momentarily quiet until she shook her head, her expression morphing into an unfamiliar one. The fire he'd seen in her eyes earlier was gone, and for a second there, she seemed a little pensive—poignant. Swallowing hard as he waited for her response, Max tried in vain to understand why the answer and her reaction to this line of questioning mattered to him.

"Well, nothing could be further from the truth." She sat back again as Max continued to try and make sense of why this relieved him so. Still looking a little too pensive about this, she went on. "I hadn't heard from him in a long time, and he reached out a little over a month ago. I mentioned it to Bell, who I know wasn't thrilled I didn't hang up on the jerk. Without saying you said anything to me about it, I'll just have to make it a point to clarify how over him I really am."

"Why didn't you?"

"Why didn't I what?"

"Hang up on the asshole?"

Max made sure to emphasize that last part because, until Moe brought it up that morning, he'd forgotten about something he had no reason to remember before now—her ex had cheated on her. It's why they'd divorced. While Max didn't remember all the details of it because his nephew had told him and Manny about it a while back, the one thing he did remember was Moe saying the guy was a total douche. He wouldn't sit here and listen to her upgrade the guy to just a jerk.

Again, with that undiscernible expression, she was quiet for a moment before shrugging. "I stopped hating him years ago. I just . . ." She shook her head before finishing. "It was less energy to just take the call than get all melodramatic about it by being nasty and hanging up on him."

About to ask why'd she'd answered in the first place, Max was glad when his phone rang, keeping him from doing so. He still didn't understand why the fuck this would matter one way or another. If he kept up the inquisition and she posed the question, he'd have nothing for her.

"What's up, Moe?" Max smirked with anticipation, despite not really feeling it at the moment.

"Where are you?"

"I told you where I was going this morning."

"You're still there?" His nephew's annoyance had him chuckling despite the unreasonable annoyance he'd begun to feel before the call. "We went to three different places for the spark plugs Manny needed because this cheap fuck thought he could get a better deal somewhere else.

"I did find them cheaper!" Manny yelled in the background.

"Then he made me stop at the taco truck," Moe went on, ignoring Manny, "for a quick brunch snack, and he ordered a quesadilla the size of a fucking tractor tire that took forever to be made. I thought for sure you'd be home by the time we got back. You said this was a quick fix."

"It was. I'm done."

"So why you still there?"

"She offered to feed me as a gesture of her gratitude."

"She's cooking for you now?"

Max had to laugh. If his nephew only knew how unlikely his chances of getting into this woman's pants were, he'd have nothing to worry about.

"No. We ordered pizza, but we're waiting on it to be delivered."

"And then you're out, right? No funny stuff?"

"What are you talking about?" Max laughed again. "Maybe your stuff is funny. Mine is some serious shit that may get loud, but I guarantee you there's no laughing involved."

"Max, I swear to God you better be kidding—"

"I am!" Max continued to laugh. "But seriously, is this all you called for? Because if it is, I'm hanging up now."

"Just listen to me," Moe said, sounding uncharacteristically worried. "If things go there, because I have a bad feeling about this shit, just promise me that you're both clear on the expectations here. She's still hung up on her ex, and you don't do relationships. You clear?"

With his laughing mood snuffed suddenly, Max ground his teeth for a moment. He glanced up at Patricia, who'd been listening to the one-sided conversation the whole time and seemed to be watching him closely now.

"Crystal," he said as his and Patricia's eyes locked.

"Good. Eat your pizza and get your ass out of there, before you do something I can guarantee you'll regret."

As soon as he hung up, Patricia hit him up. "So, what was he making sure you were crystal clear about?"

Surprised by this, Max peered at her, wondering if maybe the volume on his phone was too loud and she'd heard Moe. But she shrugged. "Unless you were talking about a girl named Crystal, typically the one-word response would be because someone was asking if you were clear about something?"

"Is that right? Wow." Max smiled at her. "That's exactly what he asked."

Patricia smiled. "Don't look so impressed, Max. Like My Cousin Vinny there are several courthouse dramas in particular I've seen often, and A Few Good Men just so happens to be one of the most quoted movies of all time. Not the part where Colonel Jessep demands certainty that Kaffee is clear about his pompous rant. But I've seen the movie enough times that it's the first thing that comes to mind when I hear someone ask or say they're crystal clear. Anyway, it was pretty obvious just from hearing your end of that conversation. Was he making sure you're clear about not getting any ideas again?"

"Yeah." Max nodded, keeping to himself how sure Moe sounded when he said she's still hung up on her ex. "Guess he's worried I might do something stupid that Izzy would be upset about. But we both know that's out of the question . . . right?"

"It is. I'm surprised he doesn't see how impossible it would be for anything between you and me to ever work." Before he could ask her to elaborate, she was saved by the damn bell, the doorbell that is. She was instantly on her feet. "Can you get that, please? I have to go grab my wallet."

"I got it. Don't worry about."

"No," she said so loud Max turned to look at her on his way to the door. "I, uh . . . owe you remember. I got it."

She hurried out of the room as Max continued to the door. He opened it, taking the two pies and wings from the delivery girl. "Thank you. She'll be right out with the money."

Patricia rushed back into the room. "How much is it?"

"Forty-three eighty-nine," the young girl at the door said.

"Damn it, I only have a twenty in cash." Patricia pulled the twenty out of her wallet. "Do you take credit cards?"

"Get out of here." Max handed the food to Patricia and pulled out his wallet.

"Max, I said I got this."

"You can get the next one." He pulled out a fifty and handed it to the girl. "Keep the change, sweetheart."

The girl thanked him and left as he turned back to Patricia and took the food from her. She held the twenty out to him. "Here, at least let me pay for part of it."

"Nope." Max started back to the kitchen with the food. "This place was my idea, and I forgot it can get kind of pricey too. But at least this pizza's worth it."

Once back in the kitchen, they ate off the paper plates the restaurant provided. The pizza was as good as Max remembered it, even the one Patricia ordered with the white sauce instead of marinera. To Max's disappointment, she passed on the wings, but otherwise, the conversation as they ate was mundane small talk about the food itself.

That is until the subject of her ex was brought up again—by Patricia this time. "I used to order this particular pie all the time," she said, biting into it and closing her eyes as she chewed. "I'd forgotten how good it is. Ironically, it was one of my favorites until my asshole ex introduced me to Zia's."

Eating the last piece in her hand, Patricia dropped the paper plate in the trashcan. Once again, the unmistakable poignancy was back. Despite her referring to her ex as an asshole, something about her melancholy demeanor when speaking of the guy Max found grating as fuck. As much as he knew it shouldn't matter, for whatever reason, Max needed to get this straight. Especially after what Moe had said on the phone.

"You said you stopped hating him a long time ago. What does that mean?"

Their eyes locked for a moment until she lifted and dropped that dainty shoulder. "Exactly what it sounds like. It wasn't worth the energy it took to continue being pissed at him."

"Because you'd have to care to get pissed." Max repeated the words she'd used on him earlier.

"Exactly." She lifted her chin, though the conviction in which she usually did this was noticeably missing. "I stopped caring about him the moment I found out he cheated."

"Is that right?"

She cleared her throat before answering. "Yes," she said, looking Max right in the eyes.

But she wasn't fooling anyone. Max had been right about having picked up on some of her unspoken gestures, and again he saw the uncertainty—or something in her eyes. Stop caring his ass. His growing irrational annoyance over this was confusing as hell. Maybe it was just his abhorrence of having his intelligence insulted. Clearly, she was still feeling something for the guy. As uncomfortable as this topic seemed to make her, Max couldn't just drop it.

"So, why'd you bother answering when he called?"

Max thought he saw her eyes start to well up when she glanced away and then up, but she turned around and walked to the fridge before he could confirm. "I just . . ." She shrugged as she continued to search the fridge. "I dunno. I guess." The pitch in her voice went up a notch as Max's heartbeat sped up. "I wanted . . ."

"Are you crying?"

She closed the fridge but didn't turn around to face him. Instead, she wiped at her eyes. Max watched in disbelief as she walked over to the napkin dispenser. She grabbed one, dabbed her eyes with it, and finally turned around. Her eyes were completely bloodshot, and for a second, Max wanted to ask if she was seriously crying over the fucking douchebag, but then her face scrunched up, and she brought her hands to her face.

Max was around the center island in a second and in front of her, cupping her tear-stricken, beautiful face in his hands. He searched those startled but still very much shattered eyes.

As much as he hated that Moe and Izzy had been right, he needed to hear it from her. "You're still hung up on this guy, aren't you?"