The Shape of My Heart Read online

  “Where are you?” he demanded.

  “I’ve been kidnapped by super generous criminals, who let me keep my personal electronics. It’s too late. I’m a sex slave now, don’t try to save me.”

  An older woman coming out of the restaurant next door aimed a shocked look at me. I beamed at her, waving like we were old friends. That made her quicken her step, lest she be forced to talk to me. She crossed the street to continue her journey.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me where you were going?”

  He sighed. “Just tell me where you are, please. I admit it, I shouldn’t have left. I was just trying to catch up with Michael but I fucked up and he won’t talk to me. I turned around when I realized how weird it was to chase him on the bike.”

  “You hurt his pride. And I didn’t stay there because the diner was closing. I hate being the asshole who can’t take a hint, even when they’re cleaning up around you.”

  For a millisecond, I considered giving him a hard time, but it had been a shitty enough day, and it wasn’t like anything horrible had happened to me. I’m not a damsel in distress. I can handle my own business.

  “Kaufman.”

  “Fine.” I gave him the address for Hotel Dolce Villa. “I’m getting a room. See you later.”

  Inside, the hotel was purple and white, surprisingly modern. No frills, but the lobby was clean, with an efficiently-designed counter and a vending machine against the wall. If the rooms were like this, clean and simple, then this would be nicer than the place we’d stayed in last night. Certainly the area was better than the interstate.

  The receptionist looked slightly annoyed when I walked up. I tried a smile. “Sorry, I don’t have a reservation, but I was wondering if you had anything available?”

  “You’re lucky,” she muttered.

  “Huh?”

  “Check-in shuts down at 10:00 p.m. As it’s nine fifty-seven and—” she checked the computer “—this guy’s still not here, I’m making an executive decision and giving you the room.”

  Oh. That explains the irritation. She’s about to shut down and go home. Some hotels had twenty-four-hour desk service, but apparently this wasn’t one of them.

  “That’s awesome—thanks.” I didn’t feel like wandering Providence in hope of finding shelter, and after the tension at the funeral home and his argument with his brother, I imagined Max felt the same. “Is the hotel small?”

  “Yeah, only fourteen suites. This is our last room. How many nights?”

  The funeral was tomorrow, and there was no way we were heading out straight after. Max needed to make peace with Michael, if nothing else. That’s the whole reason we’re here.

  I made an executive decision on my own. “Three. Can you put it on my card?”

  “Sure. Are you alone?”

  “No, a friend will be joining me shortly. He’s parking the bike.”

  “We don’t have a proper lot but he can stash a motorcycle out back.”

  I texted him that information. Ten minutes later, Max blew through the front door, weighed down by helmets and backpacks, wildly disheveled but hotter for it, somehow. It was frustrating to notice that about him. Pushing out of my chair, I waved at the receptionist and led the way to our suite without speaking. Our room was two flights up. I had a combination instead of a card, so I keyed in the code and let us in. Like the lobby, it was clean and modern, painted bright blue. White furniture and a tile floor made it seem like a small apartment, complete with separate bedroom and kitchenette. The room smelled overwhelmingly of plug-in air freshener, not the worst possibility.

  Max glanced around in surprise. “Better than I expected.”

  “According to the brochure, the bed and pull-out couch have memory-foam mattresses.”

  “I’ll take the sofa.”

  “Like I’d give you the bed after you ditched me.”

  He caught my shoulder as I brushed by. “Hey. I really am sorry. It was a dick move. If you want to punch me, go for it. Just...not the face, okay?”

  I laughed and pulled away. “You’re such an idiot.”

  “I’m trying to make it up to you.”

  “You know I’m not a dude, right? If I was upset, I wouldn’t get over it by hitting you.”

  Max sighed. “Okay, tell me what to do.”

  “The apology was fine. But if you ever do anything like that again, I’m making a quilt out of your underwear.”

  “That’s disturbing on so many levels.” He paused a beat. “For instance, you can sew?”

  “Don’t judge. Junior year, I made my own prom dress.”

  “I don’t know what’s blowing my mind more, you being domestic or the fact that you went to prom. Do you have pictures?”

  Normally I’d never go to the archives. Eli’s there. Eli. These days I didn’t talk to him in my head as much as I used to. Back in high school, I couldn’t go a whole day without those fictional convos to get me through. Now I sometimes went as long as a week without asking his opinion. Which qualified me as beyond crazy. For Max, though, I plopped onto the love seat and connected to the free Wi-Fi on my phone. Then I flipped through the cloud gallery where I’d stored five years of precious memories. Pulling up my junior prom picture created an actual physical ache.

  I’d worn a black taffeta strapless gown embroidered with silver skulls, fishnet stockings and black Converse, my hair done up in an Amy Winehouse–inspired masterpiece. My date stood only an inch taller, though I was in flats. I’d made his matching tie and cummerbund, too. I stared at his sweet, ridiculous face, so covered in freckles that I’d never finished counting them. I hadn’t dated a blond guy since, but it was Eli’s eyes I’d loved most, impossibly blue, and always trained on me, waiting for me to say something clever or make him laugh.

  Max sat down beside me. “Wow, your hair was so long.”

  Cliché, but I’d hacked it all off after Eli died, donated it to Locks of Love. Even before he asked me out, I’d known that ending was a possibility...but I’d loved him anyway—with everything I had. Other people in our situation got miracles. Why not us? Risk it all, right, Eli? Dance like nobody’s watching. I pushed out a breath, hating the tightness in my chest. So many years later, and it never got easier.

  “Yeah.”

  Something about my tone must’ve tipped him off because his gaze snapped to my face. “Shit. Are you crying?”

  “Maybe a little. I need to get to bed.” I tried to stand up, but Max wouldn’t let me.

  His arm circled my shoulders, pulling me into his side. “Talk to me. If you shut me out, I’ll feel like we’re not actually friends. And then how I am supposed to feel about asking you to do this with me?”

  That was fucking low, but I admired emotional sophistry. Wiping my eyes, I flipped to the next photo. “This was my high school boyfriend.”

  “It didn’t work out?”

  “He died.”

  “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I had no idea or I wouldn’t have—”

  “No, it’s okay. I can’t break down just because someone asks to see an old prom picture.” I swallowed hard, unable to breathe for a few seconds.

  I had no idea why it was hitting me so hard tonight, but the hole was right there, bigger than ever. When he’d gone, Eli left a chasm in the middle of my heart, probably because we were best friends first. So I’d lost the love of my life and my closest friend on the same day. To this day, when I heard the flatline from a hospital TV show, my throat closed up. Too clearly I remembered how it felt to have his fingers cool in mine while the nurses tried to pull me away.

  Gouging at my eyes with the heels of my hands, I thrust my phone at Max. “Here. Look at whatever you want.”

  “Are you serious?” He put it on the small table and drew me into his arms. “I don’t care about the pictures. Right now I’m all about you.”

  His sweetness broke me down, and I cried into his shoulder. It had been years since I
’d done this. Maybe it was the funeral? Max rubbed my back until I settled down. As I sat back, he swept the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs. His gaze was so dark, intent, that I had no idea what he was thinking.

  He’s thinking about kissing you, Eli said.

  Oh, my God, shut up.

  Seriously, it hasn’t been that long. You remember that look.

  But this is Max. He’s just a friend.

  Eli’s laugh echoed in my head. Yeah, well, so was I. Until I wasn’t anymore.

  Unsettled, I pulled back. “Sorry. I think I’m just tired.”

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  Not really. But that was unfair, given how much he’d confided in me. And I’d told Nadia, so... I nodded. “It’s not much of a story, but... I grew up with Eli. We played in sandboxes together, plotted world domination over juice boxes. When I grew boobs, he asked me out.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “He was sick a lot,” I said hoarsely. “Leukemia, multiple remissions. Our senior year, he wasn’t strong enough for another round of chemo. He died of secondary complications when I was seventeen.” That was such a clinical way to describe watching him getting weaker and weaker, until his face was all hospital pallor and electric blue eyes. At the end, his hands felt so frail in mine, bony fingers and parchment skin.

  “I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have asked you to come with me if I’d known.”

  “Don’t be stupid. Everyone’s lost somebody. It’s not like I’ll never attend another funeral again because I went to Eli’s. I’m happy you’re letting me be there for you.”

  “Likewise,” he whispered.

  I let him tip my head against his shoulder. Max locked his arms around me, settling like he planned to sleep this way. For a minute, I considered it, but I’d be stupid to risk a crick in my neck when there was a bed in the next room. So I pushed against his chest.

  “Not that this emotional catharsis wasn’t completely awesome, but it’s been a long day.”

  “Okay. G’night, then.” Maybe it was my imagination but I thought I spied a flicker of...something as I pulled away. Disappointment?

  No. What’s wrong with you? Everything was weird in Providence without Angus and Nadia to make Max and me feel normal together. Dammit, Eli. Now you’ve got me seeing stuff that isn’t there.

  I picked up my backpack, and his faint sigh reached me as I got to the doorway. I couldn’t deny the sense of unfinished business. “You want to sleep with me?”

  Usually, at this point, Max would make a joke about how we were never, ever having sex. I didn’t turn around.

  “Would it be weird if I said yes?”

  “It’s fine, come on.”

  Like the night before, I used the bathroom first and got in bed before Max. This time, however, there was only one bed; as promised, the mattress was amazing. Since there was a club nearby, it was probably louder on the weekend, but tonight, the place was fine. I burrowed in and rolled over on my side so it didn’t look like I was watching for Max. Tension crackled in my nerves, and it was an odd, anticipatory feeling.

  Nobody’s getting laid tonight, okay? That’s not what this is about.

  Eventually he came out and crawled in the other side. It had been a while since I’d slept with anyone, and if I leveled with myself, I missed it. Max edged toward me until our backs touched. The careful tenderness of it made me smile.

  “That okay?”

  “Yeah.” I liked listening to him breathe in the dark. Such a small thing, but lovely.

  “Can I ask you something? It’s personal and might be stupid.”

  “Go for it. I’m sure I’ll survive.” It couldn’t be worse than stuff my parents came up with.

  “Have you always been bi? Or is that because...Eli...” He fumbled the question, but I suspected I knew where he was trying to go.

  I laughed softly. That was dumb, yes, but cute. “Yeah. It’s not because he died and I’ll never love another man, so therefore only women are left to me as romantic options.”

  “You must think I’m an idiot.” The bed shifted, and I snuck a peek to catch him burying his face in his pillow as if in embarrassment.

  “It’s not the worst question I’ve been asked, trust me.”

  “Is it...superdifferent?” At the moment, Max might set the bedding on fire with hot awkwardness, but I could tell he was honestly curious, not perving on the idea of me with a girl.

  “The energy’s much different with a woman, yeah. But sex can be good or bad either way. I’ve been with women who expected me to do all the heavy lifting and men who didn’t know where to touch. For me, it’s all a head game anyway. My partner has to get me going intellectually before I want to fuck.”

  “You’re definitely not shallow.”

  “I can’t be,” I said quietly. “I know what I bring to the table, and it’s not a pretty face or a perfect body. Therefore, I value other assets and...I work with what I’ve got.”

  He was quiet for a few seconds. “I think maybe Eli was the luckiest guy in the world.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you loved him.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Because you loved him.

  As I put on the black dress again, I heard Max’s whisper again in my head. Eli was silent. I toweled my hair since the dryer wasn’t working, then I daubed on some make-up, subdued for the occasion. My hair looked strange, but I hadn’t packed any product, so I smoothed it down as best I could and clipped the over-long bangs out of my face with a plain barrette.

  Max rapped on the door. “You about ready?”

  “Just need to brush my teeth. Give me a sec.”

  Hesitating afterward, I swung away from my reflection with a soft curse. I pulled a smile into place by the time I opened the door, so Max could shower. Doing him a favor, I hid the god-awful tie that looked like something my uncle Gilbert would wear and went into the other room to watch the small TV. Or pretend to, rather. The night before left me feeling strange and exposed. Can’t wait to get back to Michigan, back to normal. Where Max and I didn’t act bizarre and emotional around each other.

  I heard him bang out of the bathroom and rummage around the bedroom for a few minutes. He came to the doorway, dress shirt unbuttoned and untucked; I felt bad because I totally scoped out his chest and abs before I caught myself. The dark, trailing ink of an intriguing tattoo curled over his ribcage and under the white fabric. Surprise flared when I realized I wouldn’t mind pulling his shirt all the way off and checking out his ink. That’s...inconvenient. Eyes up. Raising my brows, I pretended I didn’t know what his problem was.

  “I can’t find my tie.”

  “If you need one, we’ll stop somewhere on the way, okay? I’ll pick it out.” That was meant as both a bribe and a distraction.

  “Okay. I think I saw a menswear shop not too far from the funeral home.”

  Nodding, I grabbed my purse and followed him out of the small suite that belonged to us for the next couple of days. The bike was around back, so we went out that way, much less picturesque than the front, especially with the Dumpsters nearby, but since it hadn’t been stolen, I counted that a win. On the way, we stopped for fast-food breakfast sandwiches and ate them next to the motorcycle, which he parked in a metered spot outside the clothing store. Silently I dropped in a quarter, taking in his tiredness and the shadows beneath his eyes. The cheap safety razor did a piss-poor job on his dark scruff, so his face was patchy, particularly on his chin.

  “Can’t take your eyes off me, huh? I get a lot of that.”

  “I’m sure you do.” The circumstances made me gentle, but he surprised me by blushing.

  “Okay, it freaks me out when you’re nice to me.”

  “Can you put up with it for two more days?”

  He smiled. “I’ll manage.”

  Once we finished breakfast, I pushed into the cramped store to the jingle of customer-announcing bells. A gray-haired man came out of the backroom,
wilting a little when he saw us. I guessed we didn’t look like big spenders, and since Max only needed a tie, his radar was working fine. But he still smiled, which spoke well of his customer service skills.

  “Anything I can help you find?”

  I shook my head, leading the way over to a small table with ties laid out in a fan. “Are there any colors you hate passionately?”

  “Lime green.”

  “I wouldn’t do that to you anyway.”

  “How about this one?” Pulling a red, white, gray and black plaid one out of the pile, I held it up against his white shirt. Since he was wearing plain gray trousers, I thought it worked.

  Max didn’t look too sure. “Isn’t it a little...”

  “What?”

  “Burberry. You know, designer-asshole-looking.”

  “This isn’t the same pattern, but if you don’t like it—”

  “Do you?”

  “What?”

  “Like it.”

  I smirked up at him. “Well, the one you had on before was a pimp-city special. The only way it could’ve been worse is if it had palm trees and glitter.”

  “Fine, I’ll take this one. Obviously I have bad taste in dress clothes.” From his sulky tone, he thought his old tie was awesome.

  “Jackets are sixty percent off,” the salesman tried. “With your build, I have plenty of blazers that would look great on you.”

  To my surprise, Max turned to me with a half frown. “Do you think I should I get one?”

  “Do you trust me to dress you?”

  “Yes,” he said simply.

  So I plucked a black blazer off the rack in his size, along with a thin cloud-gray sweater-vest. “Put it all on, including the tie.”

  He scowled, but he didn’t protest, though I had to adjust the vest, unfastening the bottom button to show off his belt. Max fumbled at the tie until I took over, remembering with a knot in my throat how I used to do this for Eli, too. When Max shrugged into the jacket, the transformation amazed me.

  “You’re staring. Is it that bad?” Whirling, he studied himself in the mirror. “Holy shit.”

  “You look like you’re about to have your picture shot for a men’s magazine.” No question, he had the lean build they preferred.