Page 33 of Out Of Time

“A tour?”

“Yeah, show me your house, Max.”

“But you've seen it, you've cleaned it a million times.”

“Yeah, but I want to see it through your eyes.”

“I don’t even know ifI’veseen it through my eyes. So far, it's just been a crash pad.”

Remi pulled him along, nearly causing him to trip over a throw pillow he hadn't noticed on the ground. “Then let's see it together. We can pretend we’re looking into buying it.”

“Like…” He paused. “Like role play?”

“Exactly.” Remi paused to think, then went on, “I’m Marsha Bumbly, I run a butterfly conservatory. Incredibly famous for my advocacy for the monarchs.”

Max wasn’t good at normal conversation, and now he was being asked to look at imaginary houses for sale with none other than Marsha Bumbly, butterfly conservationist extraordinaire—it was all too much.

“Who will you be?” she asked excitedly.

“You tell me,” he said.

“Oh no, you have to come up with your own character.”

Max smiled at her excitement over this new, silly game they were about to play. But really, when he considered it, it was the perfect opportunity to be someone other than himself for a while, so why not choose someone bold, brave, and outgoing? The kind of man that would not only tour this home with Remi, or should he say Marsha, but the kind of man that would do itwith her hand in his, and his body finding any way he could to press against hers.

“Walter,” Max finally said.

“Walter who?” she prompted him.

“WalterShmalter?” he asked, laughing at his own absurdity.

Remi quirked her eyebrows and then began to laugh too. “Shmalter? Really?” she asked.

“I’m not good at this,” he defended.

“No, no, it's fine. Okay, so Walter…” She chuckled then added, “Shmalter. What do you do for a living?”

“I don’t know, maybe a car salesman?”

She broke character. “Of all the jobs in the world and you choose a car salesman? Not happening. Pick something ridiculous.”

A goalie?he thought.

That seemed ridiculous in his current state.

“Okay, I’m Walter…”

She cut him off and giggled. “Shmalter.”

“Shush, you,” he said, shaking his head at her, “I’m Walter, and I’m a professional party clown.”

The smile he wore for her was effortless. Remi made the muscles in his face work on autopilot, it didn’t feel forced when he was with her, it felt the way smiling should feel. It felt like home.

“So, are we married and shopping for a vacation spot, or maybe engaged, looking for our forever home?” Remi asked.

The plot thickens, Max thought.

“Maybe we’re dating, and we just really like to tour homes for a unique date experience?” Max offered, surprising even himself.

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