Pieces of Perfect (24 page)

I completely tuned him out, until I heard a name that nearly made me made me faint on the spot.

“Lily
Hamilton, with a donation of $15,000.”  
 

What the fuck
?

I immediately stood up straighter and looked around.  Had I heard him correctly?  There had to be some mistake.  Some people who had met me earlier in the evening looked approvingly at me, nodding their heads in my direction.  

“Relax,” Max whispered in my ear.

“But, I didn’t donate any money.  What is he talking about?”  I was concerned.  It was one thing to pretend you loved your boyfriend.  It was another to pretend like you had given a ton of money to sick babies.  If I hadn’t been convinced that my place in hell had already been reserved with a velvet rope, I would have really panicked.  
 

“Calm down, doll.
 I made the donation.”
 

I looked at Max, stunned.
 “Why would you do that? Why didn’t you make it in your own name?”

Max looked up at the MC and took a sip of his champagne.  Then, he turned and looked down at me.  “Because you
are
a good person, Lily.  It means more coming from you.”  

I wanted to disagree.  Remind him that we were here to fix his image, not mine.  This was too much for me to process. I began to pull away from him, disengage.

But he quickly put his arm around me, preventing me from pushing him away.  “You are a good person, doll.  I should have told you that Monday, but I was afraid.”

I looked up at him, leaning back against him.  “Afraid of what?”

He sighed and returned my gaze.  The heat radiated between us so much, it was nearly visible.  “Afraid that if you knew you were too good for me that you’d pull away.”

I didn’t know what to say.  I stared at him for what felt like hours, though it was probably more like a minute.  As my mind searched for the right words to say, I realized that none would suffice.  So I let me actions speak for me.  

I reached my hands up around Max’s neck and pulled myself up to my tiptoes so that I could give him a kiss on the cheek.  It was meant to be a simple thank-you, a gesture that marked the strength of our friendship.  But, as my lips grazed his cool, soft skin I let them linger there decidedly longer than a friend would have done.  And I didn’t care.
 

*
              *              *
 

Max and I stayed close to one another for the remainder of the night, finding reasons to touch each other more than we should have.
 As the fundraiser began to wind down, Max asked me if I was ready to leave.  Though I really wasn’t, I nodded my head, still tipsy from the champagne.  And as he led me back up the stadium stairs, onto the main concourse, and out of the building, I thought about how much I didn’t want this night to end.  I knew that there had been magic for us tonight in this place.  But all magic comes with a price, and I knew that I would pay mine.
 

             
The limo ride home was a little awkward, as the real world started to pull us apart again.  For the first time in hours, I thought of Adam and how he would feel if he saw me nuzzled into Max’s side.  And how unfair it was for all of the mixed signals I sent to Max, though I wasn’t sure how not to send them.  I was as mixed up as the messages were, and I just couldn’t get my emotions in order.  So, when we arrived back at my apartment, I found myself inviting Max upstairs, even though I knew it was the wrong thing to do.  Or was it the right thing?  
Goddamn!
 

             
He hesitated, but when I told him that I would drop him off at his place in the morning before school, my eyes twinkling and a coy smirk on my face, he relented.  
 

             
He followed me up the stairs and leaned against the wall while I unlocked my door.  He chuckled as I fumbled with my keys and my mind went back to the night he brought me home from the bar.  
Ah, memories.
 

             
“You want something to drink?” I asked as I swung the door open.

              “Sure.  Whatever you’re having.”

              I walked into the kitchen to take inventory of what we had.

              “Is your roommate here?” Max yelled from the living room.
 

             
“She’s never here.  I forget I even have a roommate half of the time.” I grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses, then returned to join Max.  He was sitting on the couch, his forearms resting on his thighs.  I plopped down beside him.
 

             
“This is all I have.”

              “That’ll work,” he replied, taking the bottle from me and filling our glasses.  

              I settled back against the couch.  We were both silent, neither of us sure of how to get a conversation going.

              “What should we do now?” I asked.
 

             
“I dunno.  You wanna get naked and have a romp in your bed?” Max replied, his smile broad.

 “Uh, no thank you,” I replied, rolling my eyes slightly.

              “Just checking.”

              Silence settled over us again and I was beginning to wonder if I should offer to let him take my car home and pick me up in the morning.  The distance between us was growing again, and I didn’t like the way it made me feel.  Like I was losing something very dear to me.

              Max put his glass down on my coffee table and looked at me, his eyes serious.  

Fuck.  
I braced myself for whatever words would leave his mouth next.

“How about now?” he said, his face still serious.

I thought a moment.  
How about now, what?
 He raised an eyebrow and it dawned on me.  The romp in my bed.  Once he saw the light bulb go off in my head, he started laughing and I joined him.  I blamed it on my slightly inebriated state, but once I started laughing, I couldn’t stop.  Eventually, my ribs started to hurt and I was forced to reign it back in.  

That exchange was exactly the kick-start we needed to get us back to who we were.  Max and Lily, the most fucked up friends on the planet.  Two hours later, I looked at the clock.  1:30.  
Christ, I was never getting up tomorrow.
 

Somewhere along the way, we had turned on the radio and had begun dancing hysterically.
 We had just begun imitating how the kids dance at the school sponsored dances, when a slower song came on.  It was Bruno Mars’ “When I Was Your Man.”  

Max and I looked at each other a moment, before he pulled me to him and we swayed to the music, my arms wrapped around his neck and my head on his chest, his cheek nuzzled against the top of my head as his hands went to my waist.  In this moment, we were perfect, our closeness evident in every way.  And as I listened to the words, I thought about how they related to us in ways that gave me a pang of sadness that coated my other feelings.  

I lifted my head and looked at him briefly before reaching up and kissing him on the cheek.  I pulled away, and then leaned in again, kissing his cheek once more, but this time, closer to his mouth.  Again, I pulled away, slightly this time, pausing in front of his lips, making it clear what I intended to do next, giving him time to pull away.  But he didn’t.  And as my lips made contact with his, the wild passion returned.  The yearning low in my body was back and I started to grind against him, knowing that I couldn’t stop myself now.  But I didn’t have to.

Max suddenly pulled away from my lips, moving down to kiss my cheek and neck.  Then, he pulled back farther, as far as he could while still maintaining our embrace.  
 

“Lily, I . . . I want this more than you’ll ever know.
 But I can’t do it.  Not like this.”

I looked at him curiously, wanting him to explain what “not like this” meant.  It could mean any host of things, and I wanted, needed, him to be clear.

“I want you to want this sober, too.  I don’t want to be a drunk mistake.”
 

I continued to just stare at him.
 I took him in, this man who constantly surprised me.  He had taken off his tuxedo jacket a long time ago, but he was still wearing his white dress shirt, which had the top three buttons undone.  His bowtie hung untied around his neck.  He was even sexier like this than he had been at the fundraiser.
 

“You’re never a mistake, Max,” I whispered.
 
 

             
“Thanks, doll,’ he said as he leaned in one last time and gave me a sweet kiss on my shoulder.  “We should take a picture,” he declared suddenly, detaching from me completely.  

              “A picture?” I asked, confused.

              “Yeah, I need a more current one for my wall,” he winked.  He fished his phone from his pocket and stood closer to me, positioning it in front of us.  He grinned widely as he draped his arm over my shoulders.
 

             
I smiled as well.  But, at the last minute, I lifted myself higher, closed my eyes, and kissed Max on the cheek.  
May as well make it good.
 

             
After he snapped the picture, he lowered his phone so we could both look at it.  I had to admit, we looked great together.  “Can you text that to me,” I asked as I rested my head on his chest.  
 

             
“Sure, doll.  Anything for you.”
 

*
              *              *

              I woke up the next morning in my bed, still fully clothed from the night before.  
I must have been drunker than I thought.  
I went into the bathroom and splashed some water on my face before wandering out into the living room to find Max.  
 

             
The previous night replayed in my mind as I walked down the hallway.  I wasn’t sure where my feelings stood for Max.  It was frustrating.  Despite my feelings not being what I wanted them to be for Adam, I still knew what they were.  I was a tangled mess when it came to Max.
 

             
When I reached the living room, I saw that Max wasn’t there.  And as I wandered into the kitchen, I was surprised not to find him there either.  But what was there, laying on the counter, was a note.  I scooped it up as my breath caught in my chest.  Why would he leave?  Had I said something that I don’t remember?

             
Hey, doll.  I figured you were going to be pressed for time this morning, so I called a cab.  I also went out and got you some coffee (it’s in the microwave).  See you later.

Max
 

             
I re-read the note as I walked to the other side of the kitchen.  
He really could be sweet sometimes.  
I opened the microwave door and took a step back.  There, in front of the cup of coffee, was a copy of the picture Max had taken last night.
 

             
Definitely sweet.  

Thirty

Seeing Max interact with his family earlier in the week
had surprisingly touched some nerve in me I didn’t even know I had, and this had only been intensified by our evening together at the fundraiser.  But all of this was just too confusing, and with my birthday coming up, I craved the familiar.  For this reason, I was glad that I had invited my parents out to celebrate with me.
 
It had definitely been short notice, but I figured it was worth a shot.  And when I called my parents, they actually agreed to come out for a few nights the weekend of my birthday to visit.  Of course they were going to be staying at a hotel.  I had to draw the line somewhere.  

              And with my parents’ arrival quickly approaching, I thought it might be a good time to let Adam know that they’d be in town.  I’d let myself see how things might be with Max, but I felt like if my relationship with Adam were going to progress further, he would have to meet my parents at some point.   

              “It’ll be casual,” I said when I called him last week to invite him to dinner at my apartment.  “Nothing fancy.  I’m just cooking dinner at my house.  I didn’t want to go out because of what happened when we were at the restaurant in Colorado.”  Though I hadn’t told Adam that much about my parents, he knew our general relationship was far from perfect.  I thought he might actually decline my invitation so my parents and I would have some time to spend alone without the new boyfriend, but Adam agreed that it would be a good idea for him to meet them.
 

             
His exact words were actually, “Sure, what dad
doesn’t
want to meet the guy who’s screwing his daughter?”  
 

             
I laughed at his unexpected response.  Sometimes he could say things that were so “non-Adam.”  But he clearly knew what a big step this was for me.
 

             
With careful planning, I had tried to delicately maneuver their arrivals so that I’d be able to acclimate gradually.  I didn’t need everyone getting there at once,
and I certainly didn’t need anyone seeing Amanda wander around the apartment in her bra while she ironed a shirt.  She had a date with some new guy she’d been seeing named Dave, and she planned to be out of the house by 5:30.  Adam was scheduled to arrive around 6:00 and my parents planned to get there around 6:30—which I was hoping would be when the turkey would be done.  That way I wouldn’t have to talk to them for any lengthy amount of time.  We could eat dinner, cut the cake Adam planned to bring, and my parents could get the hell out.   
 

But I should have known nothing would go as planned.
 At 5:40 I heard, “Fucking wire popped through another bra!  These are both new.  I got a white one and a nude one.  I need to find something to keep these puppies up,” Amanda said cupping her D-cup breasts and lifting them toward her neck.  “Can you help me find another light bra?  I’m wearing a pink shirt, and you’ll be able to see through it if my bra’s too dark.”
 

Who cares if you can see your bra through your shirt?
I thought.  
Dave’ll probably have it off in a few hours anyway.
 But what I actually said was, “You can borrow one of mine.”  
Anything to get her out of the apartment.  

              With Amanda out the door, I took a moment to check on the turkey.  But as soon as I opened the oven door, I knew I had a major problem.  I had never cooked a turkey before—or really anything for that matter—but I was pretty sure it shouldn’t smell like burning plastic. I cursed aloud to no one as I removed the pan and placed it on the oven.  With one quick examination, I knew immediately what was wrong.  I had left some sort of plastic package inside the turkey.  Some parts of the carcass or gravy or something.  With the plastic melted, I had to move on to plan B.  So I called Adam, hoping he had time to pick something up before my parents arrived.
 

             
“Yeah, hon. No problem.  I’ll figure something out.  Be there soon.”

              “Hurry,” I urged, fearing my parents’ arrival before Adam got here with the food.  
 

             
I used the time before Adam got to my apartment to open some windows and light a candle to mask the smell.  
 

Adam appeared at my door about 25 minutes later.
 “Happy birthday," he said. He held up two Boston Market bags, smiling. "Chicken, mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables, and cornbread.  We’ll put these in some pans and throw them in the oven.  Your parents will never know where it's from.”  
 

No argument
here.  
I was pretty sure Boston Market was well below my parents’ dining echelon.  
 

Adam immediately took command of the kitchen, keeping the food warm and taking out serving dishes as he prepared for my parents.
 He was alarmingly calm for someone who was about to meet his girlfriend’s pretentious parents for the first time and serve them fast food.

The doorbell rang, and Adam continued our facade in the kitchen as I answered the door, plastering on my best “so glad to see you” face.  “Mom. Dad," I smiled. "I'm so happy you're here."  The truth was that I
was
happy they were here. My nerves were just on overdrive.
 

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," my mom said, hugging me formally. As always, she was well put together.
 In a crisp bright patterned skirt, paired with a cream silk blouse and not one of her shoulder-length light brown hairs out of place, she stood the epitome of perfection. Combined with my father, who wore black pants and a light blue dress shirt, they were clearly overdressed for the occasion.  
Or maybe we are underdressed
, I thought as I looked down at my casual pastel green dress from Express and thought of Adam in his jeans and untucked red polo.  

As I greeted my parents for the first time since their arrival last night, I couldn't help but remember how we had parted in Aspen. I left on such bad terms, and we had only spoken a few times since. They knew about Adam, but they didn't know much.

As if on cue, he emerged from the kitchen, extending a solid hand to my father and a polite peck on the cheek to my mother. He smiled broadly when my dad said, "You must be Adam."
 

"I must be," Adam replied jovially, obviously unaware of the effect my dad's innocuous choice in words had on me. My being seen with one man or another lately clearly had no real correlation to who I was actually dating.

"I'm Howard. This is my wife, Lynn."
 

"It's a pleasure to finally meet both of you." Adam took my mom's coat and offered my parents a drink.
Thank God for Adam because I didn’t think to do either one of those things.  
You would have thought that all of the parties my parents threw when I was a child would have instilled better hosting skills in their offspring.  Apparently not.
 

But Adam was a pro. He and my dad talked about beer over Yuenglings
—a Pennsylvanian lager my dad hadn't tried until tonight—and some golf tournament that was coming up in June. It was at a course nearby.  And as I listened to them discuss the tournament, all I could think was what a bitch my drive home would be during my last week of the school year. I was already anticipating having to flip off about fifteen old people just to get home each afternoon.

"Traffic's gonna be horrendous around here that week," Adam added much more eloquently than I would have, as he moved on to discuss other hobbies.
 
"Do you fish at all?" he asked my father, before casually turning his attention toward my mother to be sure she was included in the conversation. "Lily tells me you have a house on Lake Michigan.  My family spent a lot of time at a lake close to here."  

"We don't really do much fishing," my mom said with a polite smile. "We have a catamaran that we sail when we're there."  
 

I didn't have much to add to the conversation, so I busied myself setting the table. Adam was fitting in so well with my parents, and I didn't want to ruin that.
  
 

As we sat down to our Boston Market feast, my mom complimented me
—or at least she thought she did. "Lily, this looks fabulous. Did you make all of this?  You are really getting to be quite the cook, dear."  Then she turned toward Adam before allowing me to answer. "Did you help her with all this?"
 

Adam slipped me a knowing glance and laughed silently
with his eyes as he patted my knee under the table. "Nope, not me.  This was all Lily. She's the reason we're eating this delicious meal."  

What an ass.

"Well, it's wonderful.  Really, Lily.  You've outdone yourself," my father added.  He wiped his napkin across his graying beard before continuing.  "So Adam, Lily hasn't told us much about you. What do you do for a living?"
 

“Can you at least let him take his first bite before you start with the inquisition?”
 
 

"It's fine, Lily," Adam assured me as he put a comforting hand on my shoulder.
 "Your father has every right to know about the man who's dating his daughter."  He focused his eyes back on my father to give him his undivided attention before answering.  "I'm an architect.  I work for a small firm in the city designing custom homes in the area."

My father relaxed a bit, clearly pleased with Adam's response.  "An architect?  That's impressive.  I considered that myself before deciding to pursue a career in law.  We were hoping Lily would follow in our footsteps, actually.  I'm sure she's told you."
 

"Dad, can we not do this now?"

"I'm just saying, honey.
 I'm sure an architect would agree with me.  You're smart enough to go to law school. You could even take a few classes in the summer to get started."

"He isn't
just
an architect.  He's a person.  For once, can't you just see someone for who they really are instead of making judgments based on what they do and where they come from?" I surprised myself when I looked to my mother's warm brown eyes for assistance.  I hoped even she would realize that this was not the appropriate time for this.  
 

But I was met with more attacks.
 "It's just that we want more for you, dear. That's all."  She said it with a tone that I'm sure she hoped would make her comment seem more innocent than she truly intended.  
 

I put my fork down, suddenly losing my appetite.
 I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest, visibly fuming.

Adam had never seen me this angry, and for a brief moment I thought he might think I was overreacting.  He had remained quiet until a question was finally directed at him, forcing him to respond.  "Adam," my mother asked calmly, "don't you think Lily should do something better than teach?"
 

Were they serious? They were actually hoping my boyfriend would take their side on this?
 If they knew Adam like I did, they would know that would never happen. But the extent to which he came to my defense shocked even me.

"With all due respect, Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton," Adam began candidly.  

"Howard and Lynn, please," my father encouraged.

"With all due respect, Howard.  Lynn.  You asked for my thoughts, so I'll give them to you."  I studied Adam closely.  His expression was stoic.  "What Lily chooses to do with her life isn't for me to decide.  And I'm certainly not going to judge her for it.  Lily loves teaching.  And she's good at it."
 

Adam turned his head to face me, casting his clear, green eyes seemingly inside me.
 "I love your daughter.  And I don't love her despite what she chooses to do for a career.  I love her because she's kind-hearted.  And accepting.  And because of so many other reasons that I can't even put into words."  Adam took my hand in his as he spoke, maintaining our connection while returning his focus to my parents.  "I've found that it's much easier to love people for who they really are instead of who you feel they
should
be."

Hot damn! Take that, fuckers!

I felt as if I had been drinking all night.  My head was fuzzy, and Adam had somehow managed to become even more attractive than he already was.  He had already saved me from my dinner disaster, and now he had come to my rescue again.  Not only did he completely accept me for who I was, but I could count on him to defend me when other people didn't.  And like that, it hit me.  This is what had been missing with Adam: this feeling of complete acceptance that I've always craved.