My grandfather leaves the office at noon on Friday, which probably means my grandmother isn't having a good day. Or worse, that maybe he was up all night caring for her and is exhausted. All of which makes me feel even more guilty that I can't be there this weekend as he asked, to spend time with her.
I managed to avoid him on Thursday by holing up in my office to get some much-needed research done. Between the breakup with Max and the conversation with my grandfather, I haven't been my most productive at work this week, and I don't want to fall behind on my cases. I have several court appearances next week that I have to prepare for.
I did stop by Dylan's office once, just to see if he would say anything about that case he brought with him that my grandfather mentioned has a connection to Max's uncle. I asked some vague questions about the cases in general that he brought with him, but he was uncharacteristically closed-mouthed so I had to give up that effort for now.
I'm not sure I even want to know, since I'd just end up learning something I'd have to keep secret from Max, and this weekend is already uncomfortable enough without adding more strain to it.
By mid-afternoon I've gotten everything done I need to in preparation for next week, so I decide to call it a day. I stop by Martina's desk and promise to text her when I'm in New York.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," she quips as I start to walk away, then grins since she knows that leaves me plenty of options.
I really do wish she were coming along, if only to be a buffer for all the tension I expect there will be between Max and me.
I haven't heard from him all week, except for a text message yesterday letting me know the type of clothing to pack - two cocktail dresses, something professional for meetings, a couple of casual outfits, and a bikini. I assume the bikini part is a joke, since we're staying in a fancy hotel in Manhattan, not going to the beach, so I ignore that one and pack everything else. Including a pair of absolutely not sexy pajamas in case I am in the same room with him to sleep.
I also add a yoga outfit, on the chance I'll have some time on my own to check out the hotel fitness center.
Hopefully Max will be conducting at least some business that I don't have to be present for, since the more time I spend with him the more difficult this whole situation will be for me.
I know I made the right decision, and breaking it off was inevitable. We have a fundamentally different view of right and wrong. As an attorney I am sworn to uphold the law; Max shows little or no hesitation in breaking it. There could never be a future between us, and a future with Max was exactly what I had begun to envision, while trying to close my eyes to the truth.
I also know that it only would have had gotten harder the longer I delayed it. But the thought of spending an entire weekend with Max and not touching him, not making love with him, is a heavy weight inside me that just won't go away.
* * *
When I get home I double check that I've packed everything I need, then go over to my dresser and slide open the top drawer. I hesitate, then lift out the slim box and slip it into the tote that holds my make-up, my fancy crossbody purse, my laptop, and a legal pad. Since Max hasn't told me anything about why Gino and Joey D called the meeting and what will be expected of me, I want to be prepared.
I'm not sure whether I'm disappointed or relieved when Gabe, and not Max, texts me that he's here to pick me up, and asks if I need any help with my bags. I text back that I'm fine, and I'll be right down. It's only a weekend, so my single roller bag plus my tote had plenty of room for everything I was packing.
When I get downstairs Gabe is waiting at the curb, leaning against the car. He pops the trunk open and puts my luggage in, then opens the passenger door for me.
I usually feel comfortable with Gabe, but this is awkward since I don't know what, if anything, Max has told him about the change in our relationship.
But I don't have long to wonder.
"You're making a mistake," he tells me, as we pull away from the curb.
I don't bother pretending not to know what he means.
"I know about what Max did to Ramon Suarez. I'm not okay with that."
He glances over. "Are you okay with what Suarez did to his girlfriend?"
"Of course not. But that didn't give Max - or you - the right to take things into your own hands."
"That's where we disagree," Gabe says.
We ride in silence for several minutes, then he looks over at me again. "I've known Max for a long time."
"I know. You grew up together."
"Not a lot of people have the power to hurt him."
I really don't have an answer to that. I'm not going to sit here defending my decision to a man who himself is up to his eyeballs in anything criminal that Max is involved in.
Martina obviously thinks I made the wrong decision, although she gets my reasons why. Gabe is openly disapproving. The only person on my side in this is my grandfather, although he'd probably want to kill me if he knew I was heading right now to meet Max and take off for New York.
I try changing the subject.
"I'm surprised you didn't invite Martina along for the trip."
"It's business," Gabe says.
"Max took me along to Las Vegas when he had business."
Gave gives a short laugh. "And look how that turned out. Now Gino is summoning you to go to a meeting. Given recent events, I'm surprised you agreed."
Now I turn in my seat and face him.
"I got the impression from Max that saying no was not an option."
Gabe is silent for a moment, then he nods. "Gino usually gets what he wants."
But he's leaving me wondering if it's true that there would have been serious trouble with Gino if I didn't show up, or if maybe it was Max himself who considered it so important that I come on this trip that he wouldn't give me the option of saying no.
Before I can fully consider the possible ramifications of this, we arrive at the airport and park near the terminal where private planes arrive and depart.
Gabe waves me off when I try to lift my suitcase out of the trunk, and just hands me my tote bag. Then he grabs the suitcase and we walk toward the waiting plane.
Even though I've been on it twice already, it's still a shock to travel in this kind of luxury. I go up the steps into the now-familiar cabin, and stop in the doorway. Max looks up from the wide leather seat where he's sitting scrolling through a tablet. He sets it down and gives me a stare so intense I can't seem to move forward.
Then he stands and he's walking toward me.
"Hello, Hadley. Come take a seat."
He takes my arm and leads me to the seat next to him, by the window. When he sits down in his seat again, I'm effectively blocked in.
Gabe boards the plane, but disappears into the front where the pilot is. Unless it's actually Gabe who is flying the plane, I think, remembering what he said about himself and Max both having a pilot's license.
Max is dressed in a business suit, sans jacket, which I assume is hanging up somewhere here. I'm not wearing jeans, but I am dressed casually for travel. It immediately reminds me of the first time I met him, on the plane from Philadelphia to Miami, and I was sitting, self-conscious and uncomfortable, in First Class wearing my faded jeans and a t-shirt, still annoyed at the careless traveler who had splashed me with coffee.
Then I remember the moment when Max kissed me, and told me he'd like to have taken things a lot farther if we'd been on his private jet instead of sitting in First Class on a commercial airline.
I shift in my seat slightly, every sense in my body completely aware of how close he is sitting to me now. Now all I can think about is the bedroom to the rear of the plane, and on the trip back from Las Vegas waiting for him in that bed, naked under the thick comforter, while he finished a phone call.
And everything that happened when he came into the room, pretending to discover me as a stowaway, and we had amazing sex under the covers, 41,000 feet in the air.
Although I've turned slightly to gaze out the window as we wait to take off, I can feel Max studying me, and I wonder if he can tell exactly what I'm thinking.
If I hadn't realized what happened with Ramon, if I hadn't confronted Max, if he hadn't told me the truth about that and told me other things - things I can't unhear - I'd probably be well on my way to being naked in that bed right now.
Is he wondering if, not really hearing from him for most of the week, I might have changed my mind?
Part of me wishes I could be the kind of person who just closes her eyes to the things she would be better off not knowing, and goes blissfully through life in a sheltered bubble.
But I'm not that person.
I look down at my wrist, which still feels oddly naked, and decide now is as good a time as any. I reach into my tote bad that I set on the floor next to the window and pull out the jeweler's case. I turn to face him, but can't quite look in his eyes as I reach out to hand it to him.
"I'm returning this to you, Max," I say. "Under the circumstances, it's not something I can keep."
He makes no move to take the box from my hand, so I keep holding it out awkwardly. I just want to get this part over with, so we can move on.
Instead of taking it, he touches my chin with his thumb and two fingers in that familiar gesture, tilting my face up until I have no choice but to look him in the eyes.
"I'm not accepting that back from you, Hadley. It was gift, and it meant something, to me if not to you."
"That's not fair," I say, and he raises an eyebrow. "It's not fair for you to suggest this didn't mean anything to me. It . . ." My voice falters. "It meant a great deal to me. But it's far too expensive a gift for me to keep, since we won't be . . . together anymore."
"We're together right now," Max says, with a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.
"You know what I mean," I say stiffly. "Everything's different now."
"Yes," he says, his voice serious again. "I know what you mean." He gives a short, humorless laugh. "Do you think the cost matters to me? I gave you this for a reason, and nothing you say changes that. So you'll damn well keep it. And you'll wear it this weekend."
He takes the box from my hand, then, and opens it, lifts out the Claddagh bracelet and places it around my wrist, fastening the clasp.
His face is not unreadable now. It's changed that quickly from amused to cold and furious, his eyes stormy and his jaw set. His reaction has caught me completely off guard.
"I'm sorry. I just thought -"
"You thought this was some pricey trinket I bought at an estate sale or a fancy little boutique as some sort of bauble because you were sleeping with me?"
"No! That's not what I thought at all. I'm sorry," I say again. "I didn't mean to make you angry."
"For someone who isn't trying to make me angry, you're doing a hell of a good job of it right now."
Then he gets up and stalks off toward the rear of the plane, and I stay seated in my chair, looking down at my hand in my lap and the delicate traditional Claddagh bracelet that now circles it again, and all I feel is baffled.
If this is how our trip is starting out, I can't even imagine what it will be like in New York.
The plane lifts off the ground, and I lean back against the seat and close my eyes, wishing I was back in my apartment in Miami, and wondering if Max will still be this angry by the time we get to the hotel.