Page 48 of Party Favors

The rest of me did not get that message, though. Max and I stood up to put our coats back on, but no matter how hard I tried, I just could not get my left arm in the sleeve.

Max gave me an amused and indulgent look and reached forward to hold my coat in place for me so that I could easily slide my arm in.

He smelled so good and was so warm and strong.

I wanted to tell him I hadn’t done it intentionally.

Okay, maybe it had been intentional on my body’s part—to inhibit our coordination so that he would have to help and we could stand close to each other.

“What did you think?” I asked him as we spilled out onto the street with the rest of the audience.

“It was really good! What about you?”

Although my dating history in New York was not that extensive, I could say that I hadn’t gone out with a single man who would have admitted to enjoying a musical.

More and more I was beginning to believe that Max was some figment of my imagination that I had wished into being.

“This is like the seventh time I’ve seen it. It’s my favorite.” It was why I’d chosen it, wanting to share it with him. I was so giddily happy that he’d liked it.

“I could have guessed. You sang along to all of the songs.”

That made me gasp. I had an absolutely terrible singing voice and did not ever sing voluntarily where others could hear me. “I did not sing,” I whispered in horror.

“Oh, you did. It’s okay, though. It was adorable.”

Like a puppy. Wonderful.

“Why didn’t we go to something you haven’t seen before?” he asked as we approached the traffic light.

“I’m not one of those people that need constant variety or novelty. I’m very happy with the things I love.”

“I’m the same way!” he said.

The horde of women on his phone told me differently, but I stayed quiet.

“I eat the same breakfast every day and my—” He stopped himself. “People have made fun of me for it in the past.”

Bypeopledid he mean his ex-girlfriend? Why would that incredibly evil, stupid woman make fun of Max for anything?

My opinion of her dropped lower every time he mentioned her.

“What do you like to have for breakfast?” I asked, knowing that it was something I was probably never going to witness personally but still feeling intensely curious about it.

“Bacon and eggs. What about you?”

“Coffee and panic, mostly.”

Max laughed and I grinned at him. It took only a couple of minutes to walk over to Times Square, and I got several pictures of him withvarious people dressed up in costumes of famous animated characters. We walked through the crowded and busy stores, talking about other things we liked and disliked. Our conversation was easy and flowed well. It had been a long time since a man had paid this much attention to me, or had seemed so interested in learning things about me.

He stayed close, so close sometimes that when he spoke, his words would stir the hair next to my ear. That feeling made my eyes roll so far back in my head that it nearly teleported me into another dimension.

Somehow I managed to keep myself together long enough to direct him to Roma Vida, the Italian restaurant I’d mentioned to him earlier. Max didn’t seem to detect that anything was amiss with me, that I was barely hanging on to my sanity and sense of self.

All I wanted to do was get lost in him, and it was very, very distracting.

I’d been so careful in drawing boundaries with him to be just friends, but no part of my body agreed with my brain’s decision, and it was actively trying to sabotage me and get closer to him.

I “accidentally” bumped into him so many times he probably thought I had an inner-ear issue.

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