Thanks
for reading folks! Very short chapter
this time around. Max's POV regarding
this subject will be longer.
Part Nine
He was drained. Both physically and mentally. It was as if something had been clicked on in Max's mind when he'd awoken the previous Sunday. An 'If I act like its okay than it is,' it had been going in a fuller force than Logan had ever witnessed before, which was (as always with Max), saying a lot.
Meant to throw everyone off her tail.
He was unfortunately not as lucky as the rest of them. They walked in, stayed for a few hours, had a few laughs and then left feeling good.
He not only saw it for the act it was, he didn't have the opportunity to leave. A few hours off for work, meaning worrying about her in a different location and then back to Max. A very needy Max.
She seemed to dog his every step in the apartment and if she wasn't he could see it in her eyes and the tense position she'd be holding herself that she wanted to.
He'd normally describe them as a physically affectionate couple.
Lately though he was starting to think that even a sex addict would take pity on him.
Granted he may have had a few interesting thoughts about Mrs. Brady when he was younger, but at this point in his life, he realized just how wrong he'd been. That perky, everything's great lady was not as much fun as he'd expected. Especially when you know it's a lie.
He tried snapping her out of it, it had finally happened on Thursday when she'd been bouncing around the kitchen putting together the final bits of dinner…
'Max can you just stop?' he finally said unable to slow her any other way.
She turned and looked up, her hand still holding a few servings of dry spaghetti, 'I thought you just said you were hungry?'
'I am, but that's not the point,' he walked over and extracted the spaghetti from her hand and placed it down on en empty pot lid.
She frowned over at it, 'What are you doing?'
'I'm trying to figure out what the hell you're doing,' he said looking down.
'I'm,' she nodded and reached past, 'making dinner.'
He let out an angry sigh as she dumped the pasta into the boiling water. 'You know what I mean.'
'No I don't Logan,' she turned looking annoyed.
'What is this?' he waved a hand as she walked away to give the salad a final flip.
'It's called making dinner Logan, figured you made it enough to know that.'
'Didn't we decide we'd take turns with dinner?' He asked full well knowing they had said exactly that when she decided to stay home with Will. She'd made a fuss about not being one of those women.
'Yea well, I'm here and I can't leave. This just makes sense,' she paused and looked at him now in his new stance over the island, 'would you like me to stop?'
'Yes I asked you to several minutes ago,' he pointed out.
She dropped the tongs, 'What would you like me to do all day Logan? We can eat off of every surface in this apartment. I organized all the crap you've been putting off. Beat Sebastian in several games of chess. Changed a good hundred diapers easy. You know what doesn't fill much time. And doing situps while watching a vampire and a witch try to take over a sleepy middle American town, may be thrilling, but unfortunately daytime tv isn't on all day. So what else would you like me to do?'
The anger that he wanted to boil out of her merely simmered in her eyes, making him once more feel frustrated. 'I don't know yell Max? Bitch? Complain?'
'Yea,' she nodded, 'like that would do a lot of good Logan.'
It may not do a lot of good, but it was Max.
'Can I get back to dinner now?' she asked with annoyed eyes.
He let out a rough sigh and waved his hand as he took a step back.
That had been Thursday, this was Sunday. On Friday he'd berated himself during a lull finally in Senator Richardson's campaign blitz. Which the good senator swore wasn't a campaign blitz since his reelection was over a year away. It was a major public do-gooder blitz. He was being seen everywhere, promising reforms on everything since there had been a public outrage when the truth about children's group housing had come to light. Nothing the informed didn't already know, but the public was finally starting to catch on/begin to care after 3 deaths in a month.
He'd been assigned/asked for the job of reporting on this. It was a good story, gave him more access to the scene than he'd normally have, a nice vantage point for Eyes Only to see what actually needed to be done during the prep hours for the article. It also kept him out of the apartment for nearly normal work hours, a rarity.
It had been on Friday when he'd actually almost chosen to return to the office instead of returning home during some unusual downtime that all he needed to do was make a few phone calls. He quickly felt like a bastard when he realized what he'd been contemplating. She was the one going through this, while he was surprising well adjusted to their change in lifestyle. He was merely going through her going through this.
He was pretty sure however he was starting to crack from the pressure of trying to be strong enough to support her and was pretty sure that if any breaks presented themselves to him on Monday he would take them. Who knows maybe just put the seat back in his car for ten minutes and enjoy the solitude.
It suddenly occurred to him that he was already doing just that as he sat in his car with the scrap of paper with a jotted down phone number he'd walked down with Krit to retrieve. He'd quickly found it after saying goodbye to the other man, but continued to stare at the cement walls instead of immediately returning upstairs to Max who had been proving to her brother just how capable she was of taking care of his nephew for the better part of four hours.
If that hadn't done it the completed paperwork for Marianne's nursery school had, which Krit had laughed at when Max had told him. Seemed three years in advance was only common to those who had Cale tacked on to the end of their names.
His eyes closed in weary preparation as the doors of the elevator slid shut.
-o-
-o-o-o-
-o-
It was from the corner of his eye as they sat on opposite ends of the couch both leaning into their respective sides, the tv on as he looked over a file. He realized she wasn't watching the tv. She was staring at Will who was sleeping in the bouncer on the coffee table. Not adoringly as people tended to with infants. A focused stare. Controlled. He'd caught her doing it a few times in the past two weeks since they'd decided Will would remain with them.
That's when he realized something and the file fell a little bit as he watched her.
The act wasn't for them. Not for their friends, not for him.
It was for her.
She was trying to trick herself.
Trick herself into being Will's mother.
"Something wrong?" she asked turning seeing his change in position.
"No," he shook his head and leaned forward to rest the file on the coffee table next to Will, "just sick of reading." He leaned back and turned to her with a smile, "Don't suppose I could interest you in some dessert?"
"And here I thought I'd actually landed a smart guy," she said with an easy smile as she slid to her feet.
"Hey," he returned her smile and light banter, "at least I'm smart enough to come up with the offer of dessert."
"Good point," she nodded as she picked up the bouncer and he led the way into the kitchen.
