Page 50 of Risk It All
Chapter Seventeen
Madeleine
Back in New York, I close the door to my apartment and sink against it. For the umpteenth time I second-guess my decision to sneak out of the hotel in London to head home. It was rude, childish, and cowardly to leave without saying goodbye to Max. I'm sure he's hurt and livid. But what difference would it have made if I stayed and we attempted to go on as if we hadn't had a full-on affair and breakup all in the span of a few hours? The atmosphere would either be tense and uncomfortable, or he'd try to talk me into giving him another chance.
That was the real problem. I wasn't sure I'd be able to say no to him. But I've been down that road before, and I don't want to drive it again. Especially not with Max. It hurts enough now. I'm sure I'd break if I let myself love him and it didn't work out.
So I did the only thing I could. I woke early, showered, grabbed my pack, and snuck out while he slept on the sofa. I left him a note, but I know it's too little, and feel bad about it.
During the trip to the airport and as I made my way to the plane, I kept glancing over my shoulder, sure he'd follow me. But he hadn't. Did he sleep late? Or did he decide I was right and we didn't have a future? I tell myself that the odd feeling in my chest is relief, not disappointment, that he didn't chase me down.
Now I’m home. I feel a little bit like Dorothy waking up in her bed after a whirlwind adventure in Oz.
It's early afternoon in New York, but all I want to do was climb into bed and hide. I wonder if Max has left London yet and if he'll still try to come to me. I'd considered not coming back to my apartment just for that reason. But I need to regroup and get ready for my talk at the wildlife conference in Florida. So, I drop my pack on the floor of my room, take a shower, and climb into bed.
“Madeleine?”
I hear a woman's voice, which makes no sense because I'm in the middle of a delicious dream about Max.
“Madeleine. Wake up.”
I open my eyes. “Emma. What are you doing here?”
My sister rolls her eyes at me. “I live here sometimes, remember?”
“Yeah.” I wipe the sleep from my eyes and scoot up to sit. “I thought you were . . .” I can't remember where my sister had been planning to go the last time we chatted.
“I wanted to go shopping on Fifth Avenue, so I'm here. But I won't be for long. Sophie has met a guy who has a house in Hawaii.”
“Sounds tropical.” Emma had an adventurous spirit, like me, except her adventures involved beaches and shopping.
“Sounds fun.” Emma cocks her head. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “Just jetlag. You know how it is.”
“How are things in Nigeria?”
“The same.”
“I'll write a check,” Emma says.
I laugh. Emma doesn't share my desire to make a difference in the world. But she's happy to fork over money to help any cause that I feel is important. That's better than nothing.
But then the discussion I had with Max comes back to me. He hadn't felt appearances and checks were enough. I shake my head hoping to rid it of Max, knowing it's fruitless. I'll remember Max for as long as I live. I just hope that in time, the memories are sweeter. That they aren’t tainted with regret.
“I'll donate the check I got for attending that party off Central Park West.”
“I still can't believe you get paid to show up at parties.”
She grins. “And Daddy thought I'd never get a job.”
“I guess you showed him.”
“Are you sure you're alright? You seem off. You look sad. You didn't run into jerkwad Chase, did you?”
“No. Like I said, I'm just tired.” Under other circumstances, I might have confided in my sister. While Emma isn't very deep, we're sisters and share a great deal. But I'm not sure I can talk about Max and not get upset. Plus Emma is a hopeless romantic, so odds are she will tell me to call Max and work things out.
“So, get up then, and we can go shopping. Shopping cures everything, even jetlag.”
