Until April (Until Her/Him #10)(19)

When we get to our table, Maxim holds out my chair, and I sit, then take the menu. I need a drink, preferably something with a whole lot of alcohol.

“Are you not speaking to me now?” Maxim asks, scooting his chair closer to mine, and I look at him over the menu in my hand.

“If you want to talk, I’m all ears.” I wait for him to say something, but of course he doesn’t.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” I hear a feminine voice say and turn just in time to watch a beautiful woman with long blonde hair sashay toward our table, wearing a cream bodycon dress in almost the same style as the one I thought was too hot for tonight. I don’t remember Maxim’s sister from when I was sixteen, but I know it has to be her.

“When are you not late?” Maxim pushes out of his chair so he can give her a hug and a kiss on her cheek.

“Don’t piss me off,” she tells him, and I scoot my chair back and stand just in time for her to turn my direction. “April.” She smiles, giving me a one-armed hug. “I love your outfit, your hair, makeup, and—” She drops her eyes to my feet. “—your shoes.”

“Thanks.” I laugh as she takes a seat, and I do the same.

“I don’t know about you two, but I need a drink. It has been a fricking day.” She grabs one of the menus from the table and flips it open. “I really hope they don’t skimp on the alcohol at this place.” She looks at me. “Have you ever been here before?”

“No.” I relax, comfortable in her presence, something that doesn’t happen often. Normally, it takes me awhile to warm up to people, but I know instantly that she is someone I would want to spend time with.

“Me neither, but it was the first place that came up when I googled the nicest restaurants in Nashville. I really hope they live up to the hype, because I’m also seriously hungry,” she says, and I can’t help but to laugh as I pick up my own menu and return to my search for something to drink.

A second later, our waitress comes over to introduce herself, then she leads us through the menu and some of the best drinks. When she walks away, Melanie and I have both ordered specialty drinks, while Maxim has gone with a glass of whiskey.

“So how did house hunting go today?”

I look at Maxim at that question and wait for him to share the news that he found a home to purchase.

“I found a place, and the offer was accepted. Now we just have to wait for a final closing date,” he tells her, and she grins.

“That’s great news. Is it close to my place?”

“Not far.” He shrugs.

“Have you told Malo, Mom, and Dad?”

“Not yet, they were traveling today.”

“When are they not traveling?” She rolls her eyes, then looks at me. “If he hasn’t told you, our parents are still grossly in love and can’t stand being away from each other for more than a couple of days, and our baby brother is Mom’s favorite child, so he’s always wherever she is.”

“He hasn’t told me.” I glance at him, then focus back on her. “Then again, he hasn’t told me much.” And that is not an exaggeration. Then again, I haven’t shared much about myself either.

“Oh, it sounds like there’s a story there.” She leans back to accept her drink when our waitress comes over, and I do the same so she can set mine down. “Well, if you have any questions, feel free to ask me. Unlike the men in my family, I’m an open book.” She holds up her glass toward me.

“Thanks.” I tap my glass to hers, then look over at Maxim and catch him scowling. “So your brother mentioned you’re in school.”

“I am. I work as an RN at Vanderbilt, and I’m going to school part time to get my APRN.”

“That’s pretty intense.”

“It is. Then again, I love what I do. Even with the stress, it’s worth it.” She looks between Maxim and me. “How do you feel about my brother owning a strip club?” she asks as I’m taking a sip of the lavender martini I ordered, and I start to choke.

“Jesus, Mel, what the fuck?” Maxim hands me his napkin and rubs my back.

“Oh Lord, please tell me that you’ve already told her this.”

“He hasn’t.” I shake my head as I turn to him.

“Seriously?” she asks him, and I raise a brow.

“I was waiting to tell you,” he says, then his eyes go over the top of my head, and his eyes narrow. I turn to see who or what has caught his attention and notice a petite, very cute brunette walking toward us and a table of women all with their eyes on us.

“April?” she asks, looking directly at me, and Maxim gets even closer to me.

“Yes.” I wait, praying she isn’t one of the people still sending me ridiculous emails and messages on social media.

“I thought that was you.” She smiles sweetly, then holds out her hand. “It’s me, Vanessa.” She looks around my table, seeming suddenly uncomfortable when I don’t react to her name. “We met a couple of times years ago. I’m Brock’s fiancée.” She twitches her fingers, the stone in her ring glittering brightly.

“Vanessa.” I shake her hand, having a difficult time placing her. But during the time that I was with Cohen, there was always a sea of women hanging around him and the band, and Brock tended to have a different girlfriend every week.