Page 54 of The Reverse Cinderella
Piaget sighed. “That’s the problem Max. I don’t want you to make things up to me. I wish you’d just be honest in the first place.”
“Here’s the honest truth,” Max sighed in frustration. “I want to watch sunsets and sunrises with you. I want to hold your hand every day I get a chance to. I want to take long walks through the autumn leaves with you and have snowball fights with you in the winter. I want to explore every inch of your body. I want to have kids with you. I want to marry you someday soon and watch the most amazing, gorgeous, talented woman I know come up the aisle to me. I want to surprise you with gifts and romantic evenings. I might even swallow my pride and get my brother Michael to teach me how to write some poetry for you, because you deserve poetry. I’m not going to sing for you. I’m an awful singer, and I know you don’t want to hear dogs howl and babies cry. I want to take you to the beach. I want to take you to the Yankees games. I want to grow old with you and end up in some little retirement community in Florida discussing how badly our dentures fit and if the grass was cut low enough or whether we should buy some of those plastic lawn flamingo ornament things. That’s what’s honest, Piaget.”
Piaget bit her lip. She wanted all those things too! She wiped away a tear and made a decision. Maybe it was all the wine she’d drank tonight. She might regret it or it might be the best one of her life. Piaget got out of bed and grabbed Max’s blanket. She threw it back on the bed.
“Hey!” Max sat up which gave her the opportunity to grab his pillow and throw it back on the bed as well. Alarmed, he scrambled to his feet. “Piaget, honey. Please, I’d like to stay. Don’t throw me out.”
“If you ever, ever lie to me or withhold the truth from me again, we are done! Do you understand?” Piaget stated in a wobbly voice, poking him in the chest with a finger for emphasis.
“Yes. Totally. I promise,” Max was quick to respond.
“Unless you mess it up, we’re getting the plastic flamingos,” she said as she poked him again.
“Absolutely, anything you want,” he was quick to promise.
“Okay,” she sniffed. She turned on her heel and got back into bed.
“Umm, Piaget?” Max asked cautiously. He wasn’t sure what to do since she had confiscated his bedding.
“You can sleep in the bed, but you have to stay on your side. I’m still mad,” she fluffed her pillow then punched it. “And you’re going to stop sleeping on the street. Either you get a place of your own or you sleep on my couch, so I don’t have to worry about you all the time.”
“Okay,” Max gingerly got in the bed, making sure not to cross into her territory. He was thankful that this meant that she might be taking him back and he had no intentions of screwing it up. “Anything else you’d like?”
“I let you know when I think of it,” she sniffled again and wiped away a tear. She turned over so that he was to her back and hugged her pillow.
“Back rub? Foot massage? Whatever you want,” he offered.
Piaget had a watery laugh. “You might regret that offer when we’re old and I’ve got corns and bunions.”
“I promise, I will rub your bunions, darling,” Max said.
Piaget turned back to him. “How about just a hug for now?”
“That I can definitely do,” Max sidled closer and pulled her into his arms, gently holding her.
Piaget snuggled close and listened to his comforting heartbeat. She was still mad, she told herself as she drifted to sleep.