To Have It All(36)

Cutting his eyes to Helen before meeting mine again he answered, “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

Dropping my head, I sighed. I needed help. There was no way I could do everything Pimberly needed with my ankle hurt. Even though letting Max coming to my rescue was a huge blow to my pride and dignity, it was my only choice.

“Okay.” I nodded. Then I had to say something that nearly killed me to say to him. “Thank you.”





“I’ve got diapers, tons of clothes, a million toys, and her travel crib,” Helen announced as she dropped a bag near the pile of Pimberly’s belongings near the door. Max, with his hands on his hips, stared down at the pile, a bewildered look on his face as he scratched the back of his neck. “A tiny little girl really needs all this?”

“Yes,” Helen and I both answered in unison.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he picked up some of the bags to load into Helen’s car. “If you guys say so,” he mumbled as he heaved the load out the door.

Helen’s mouth quirked up. “Men,” she chuckled. “Now, do we have everything you need?”

“I think so,” I answered still thinking. “Oh, my toiletries, and will you grab the baby Tylenol and thermometer in the medicine cabinet, please? Upstairs bathroom, third door on the left.”

“I got it,” she chirped as she made her way upstairs.

“Thank you,” I yelled. I wasn’t sure what the deal with this lady was, but she was nice. Max and she both vehemently insisted there was absolutely no romantic connection between them and the baby she was carrying wasn’t Max’s. They weren’t related either. So, what was it? Friends? Really? Helen just didn’t seem like the kind of person Max would get close with. She seemed . . . well . . . like me. Middle-classish, normal, not a snob. It wasn’t a stretch to believe he’d be interested in her intimately, she was pretty, but I couldn’t see it outside of that. Whatever, I’d figure that out later.

Max entered again and stood, looking around. Jabbing a thumb toward the kitchen, he jested, “Should I bring the kitchen sink? The fridge?”

Rolling my eyes, I replied sardonically, “Ha, ha, ha.” Then my snarkiness poked her head out. “Not that you’d know this, Max, but babies require a lot of stuff.” It was a cheap stab, one I felt bad for taking, especially when Max let it roll right off his back.

Damn him for being the bigger person.

“You need any help, Hel?” he shouted as he took the first step on the staircase. Though he refused to acknowledge my smartass comment, I could tell he was desperate to get away from me in case I had any more to dish out.

“No, I got it!” Helen shouted back. “Be down in a minute.”

Just before Max stepped down, one of the frames on the wall caught his attention. Leaning in, he stared at it, squinting, before a big grin captured his features. “Damn,” he mumbled. “Pim looks just like you in this picture.”

The photo was of Matt and me; I was three, and he was seven. He was sitting on a hideous brown couch, and I was beside him, resting my head on his lap. “That’s Matt’s favorite. He always teases me about how my head was so big it covered most of his body.”

Max laughed; a deep, hearty, authentic laugh.

“My head was not that big,” I defended.

Max laughed louder, the sound somehow equally thrilling and terrifying to me all at once. I couldn’t remember a time I’d ever heard him laugh like that. Twisting his neck, so his gaze met mine, he gave a little shrug. “It is a little big.”

My mouth fell open as I glared at him. Was he telling me I had a big head? What an asshole.

“In the picture,” he quickly assured me, pointing at the frame where it hung. “Not now. Your head is adequately sized now. You must’ve grown into it.”

Snapping my mouth shut, my nails suddenly became interesting as I stared down at them, pressing my lips together to stop myself from laughing. When you resented someone the way I resented Max, you don’t laugh at their jokes—ever. It’s called consorting with the enemy. I was already going to be living with the man, I’d be damned if I’d laugh at his jokes, too. “Whatever.”

I didn’t look up to see if he had resumed examining the photo or if he was still staring at me until he added, “She does look like you, Waverly. She’s absolutely beautiful.”

When I lifted my head, I found he was watching me, his features serious. It was a true compliment, one of the nicest he’d ever given me. And I had no idea how to respond.

“Okay,” Helen sang as she traipsed down the stairs. “Unless there’s anything else you can think of, I think we’re all set.”

Clearing his throat, Max coughed a little, before taking the bag from Helen. “I’ll take this out to the car.” A second later he was out the door. I stared at him, unsure of what had just happened.

“You okay?” Helen inquired.

“Yeah,” I huffed, shaking my head to clear my thoughts. As I scooted to the edge of the couch to stand, she rushed over to help me up. “Guess we should get Pim.”

When she’d helped me to my feet, foot, and helped me arrange my crutches, I met her intense gaze. “I know this isn’t your first choice. I know you don’t trust Max, and you have every reason not to, but I hope you’ll really let us help . . . at least until you’re better or your brother gets back.”