28. MAX

Chapter twenty-eight

MAX

W e had been texting before I went to bed. He was telling me how much he had enjoyed our day together, and we had got into a funny little exchange of messages. I asked him if I could see him the next day, and he said it was ridiculous how much we were seeing each other. I said I didn't care. I needed to be inside him every day at the moment.

Come , he'd replied.

I arrived around ten thirty, and we ended up having sex on his living room floor. Afterward, he said he had to answer some work emails, and I wondered if it was better that I should go.

"No," he said. "Why don't you go and sit out in the garden? I won't be long. Then we can hang out, you know, outside."

I went to look through the back window.

"Your garden is in a bit of a mess," I said.

He laughed.

"Charming. Frank said Megan had green fingers, but I haven't a clue. I don't know how to keep a pot plant alive."

"Do you want me to tidy it up a bit?"

A little crease appeared on his forehead.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," I said, "I'd love to."

The scorching midday sun was beating down hard out there, though. As I set about raking up some leaves, beads of sweat formed and ran down my back through my shoulder blades.

The air was heavy with humidity, too, so I took off my shirt and then my shoes and socks, too, so that I was working only in the shorts I was wearing. I looked around at what else needed to be done, a bit of pruning and everything looked like it needed a good watering. I enjoyed a bit of yard work. I gave the flowers a good drink of water from the garden hose already tied to a tap on the back wall of the house.

With each sweep of the nozzle, a fine mist enveloped me, and it felt good on my skin in such incredible heat. Cool droplets danced upon my skin, settling on my biceps, chest, and thighs, such a relief.

Eventually, Eddie appeared on the porch with two glasses of lemonade. Only then did he realize that I was all but naked except for some shorts.

"Jeez, look at you. You're glazed like a donut."

Glancing down my body, my chest and stomach, wet with sweat, and then my legs and bare feet beyond, wet with spray from the hose, I laughed.

"It's hot work."

"You look insanely hot," he said with a wink. He stepped down from the porch into the garden and handed me my drink. "Sorry I was away so long. My boss is being a dick."

I took a gulp of the lemonade, cold and sweet. It felt good.

"Are you missing a lot of work with me being here all the time?" I asked.

"I guess so," he admitted. "But it's worth it."

I looked around the garden. I hoped that the neighbors couldn't see. I reached forward and pecked him on the lips. He smiled very happily.

"What about you? Don't you have bikes to fix?"

I shook my head.

"I can do that whenever. Early morning. In the evening."

He sighed.

"My boss keeps dropping heavy hints about work I should be doing," he said. "I think he knows I am not really pulling my weight."

"But aren't you on bereavement leave?"

"Unofficially," he replied. "They are expecting me to keep an eye on things, to keep up with whatever is going on."

I realized then how selfish I had been being, wanting to be there, my needing to be with him. He really did have a lot on, and I should have been more supportive.

"I can go if you want," I said. "I don't want to get you into trouble."

He shook his head emphatically.

"Oh, God, no, stay!"

Just then, we heard some tapping. It was the front door. As Eddie went inside to investigate the source of the knock, I remained outside. I drank a bit more lemonade, then picked up the hose again and began to water some bushes.

As I directed the spray toward a bed of plants that went right up to the back porch, the leaves glistened dark, deep green, apparently immediately rejuvenated by the water, although I knew it was just an effect.

Over the sound of the water spray, only gradually did I become aware of the voices of Uncle Frank and Julianne drifting out from the kitchen. I turned toward the porch to see them emerging onto the porch. Immediately, their expressions were a mix of surprise and awkwardness at the sight of me, nearly naked and barefoot, my skin glistening with sweat and spray.

Uncle Frank's eyes widened more with shock, while Julianne's held a hint of dark amusement. Whatever she might have suspected at the diner seemed confirmed now. I felt a flush of embarrassment, felt acutely aware of quite how undressed I was.

"What-what is going on here?" Frank asked no one in particular. Then he remembered himself and greeted me. "Max."

I shut off the hose.

"I popped over to see Eddie," I replied. "He asked me to look at the garden."

Julianne's smirk only grew wider.

"Did he ask you to show him that body, too?"

Frank turned to his daughter.

"Julianne!"

"Well, it is scorching out here," I said very weakly. None of us seemed convinced by that explanation, even though it was kind of true because although Eddie and I had made love passionately, I had actually taken most of my clothes off to do the work in the garden. But that didn't matter. How something looks is everything in small places.

It was Eddie who spoke. "So what can I do for you, Frank?"

His uncle turned to him.

"I came over to see you, is all." Frank turned and let his eyes run mysteriously over me. "I didn't know you'd have company, though."

Julianne's gaze shifted to me, too, her eyebrow arching as if daring us to deny what she was about to say.

"I'm sure Max would be over every day if he could," she said. "From what I heard, he is every day anyway."

Now I really felt a flush of heat rise to my cheeks. As Eddie's gaze met mine, and as we exchanged a knowing glance, it was clear the word was out: the world seemed to know that he and I were seeing each other. Or at least, Julianne did. And then I realized what she was up to, popping over like this. She had heard something and was trying to catch us out.

I felt very aware of how naked I was. I said that I should go and put a shirt on, and Frank replied, "Yes, maybe you should, Max."

The whole while, Julianne was smirking.