To Have It All Read online

  “I like it,” I acknowledged. Then taking a step toward him, I reached my hand out. “I’m Max, by the way.”

  “Lenny,” he said, taking my hand in a strong grip. “You got wheels?”

  Shaking my head, I crossed my arms again. “Nah, but I’m thinking about getting one.”

  Lenny looked at me, then back at the shop, then back at me. “Man, I know I don’t know you, but this bike just came in a couple of days ago and the parts I ordered just came in so I’m finally getting to work on it. I gotta show it to someone.”

  Lenny excited about a bike meant it was a badass bike. “Oh yeah?”

  With a quick motion of his hand, he indicated for me to follow him. I nearly flew behind him, so fucking excited to talk shop with someone that knew and gave a fuck about bikes.

  As he entered the bay with me following a few feet behind him, he announced, “You ever heard of a Panhead?”

  I stopped in my tracks. He couldn’t be serious. “You got a Panhead in there?”

  Lenny chuckled. “1948 man. This thing gets me hard just looking at it.”

  I laughed, a real laugh, a Liam laugh. Damn it felt good. As we walked in and I saw the bike for myself I felt like a kid in a toy store, my fingers itching to touch it.

  “Ain’t she a beaut?” Lenny asked, his face lit up with a grin. “The owner is sinking some real funds into this. Wants it back fast. I bet he spent a fortune on it. The old girl needs some TLC, but she looks good.”

  And he wasn’t kidding. The bike needed some love, but it was a gem. They don’t make bikes like that anymore. “Looks like she might have some electrical issues. You replacing that exhaust pipe?”

  “Yeah. Owner wants a complete once over; flush the tank, check the brakes, get her a new clutch.” Lenny listed off.

  Staring at the bike, I shook my head. “I’d give my right nut for a bike like this.”

  Lenny grinned. “She is damn sexy.”

  I cut him a look and put one hand over my crotch. “I’m definitely getting a chub just looking at her.”

  We both roared with laughter and before I knew it, Lenny and I were shooting the shit and talking about every bike we could think of. That afternoon, I spent a few hours bullshitting with my best friend about our favorite thing. After days of navigating through Max’s life and the unknown, of having to pretend to be someone I wasn’t, for a little while I got to forget about all my problems. I got to forget, for a short time, that I was Max Porter.

  Max took off earlier in the day without a word. At least not a word to Pim or me. Apparently, he left Helen in charge to help with the baby and aid me. Sounded just like him to bail and leave someone else holding the bag. Helen insisted he had an ‘urgent matter’ to attend to.

  When I asked, “What urgent matter?”

  Helen vaguely replied, “I’m not sure.”

  I’d told myself I would not ask questions about Max. I didn’t want to know about his life. Then again, I did want to know. I just didn’t want to look like I wanted to know. It was a real dilemma. I’d tried asking Helen a few questions about her life after she’d interrogated me, but she barely answered the few I managed to ask. Maybe she was a person that didn’t like to share her personal information. If that were the case, that would be okay, but I think fair is fair—she asked me questions, and I answered, shouldn’t she do the same?

  Minus her lack of sharing, I liked Helen. She was a thoughtful person and she was a doll to Pim. While Max was out, Helen sat on the floor and played with Pim while I lay on the couch with my foot up, studying. I’d contacted my professors and let them know about my injury and that I wouldn’t be in class for at least that week, but I wanted to make sure I kept up on my studies.

  “Do you want a boy or a girl?” I asked, hoping she’d at least give me a little information. That wasn’t too personal of a question, was it?

  With a slight shrug, she moved to her knees and helped Pim to her feet. “I guess I always wanted to have all boys, but I have to tell you . . . this little cutie has me thinking a little girl would be fun.”

  “If you have a girl, you’d have one of each,” I noted, closing my book and resting it in my lap.

  “Very true.” Looking at her watch, she bit her lip. “Speaking of children, I need to call my son really quick.”

  Sitting up, I plopped the book beside me and fixed my ponytail. “Go ahead. I think I can handle her.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Grabbing her phone, she went into the back office and shut the door. I thought the need for that much privacy was odd, I mean she was only calling her teenage son, but I didn’t dwell on it.

  The front door opened and shut, and seconds later Max entered, a bright grin on his face. My eyes narrowed in suspicion. What was he so happy about?

  “Ladies,” he beamed before bending down and kissing Pim on the head. My body tensed. I hated seeing him being affectionate with her. This whole situation was nuts. I only hoped that Pim wouldn’t remember any of it . . . wouldn’t remember Max when it was over.

  “Take care of your urgent matter?” I asked dryly.

  He cut his eyes to me in question, but then quickly smiled and nodded. It was obvious he didn’t know what I was talking about at first, but figured it out. “Oh, yeah. All is good.”

  I wasn’t letting him off that easy. “Did your urgent matter involve rolling around on the street?”

  “What?” he snorted.

  “Your shirt,” I pointed at the black stain on his sleeve.

  Looking down, he checked his hands, nodding. “Just helped someone with some mechanical issues they were having,” he answered.

  I stared at him blankly. “Mechanical issues?”

  “Flat tire,” he explained.

  “Right,” I huffed, not believing him. Max? Working on a car? Changing a tire? Yeah right. Leaning back on the couch, I crossed my arms as he stood up.

  “Well, I did it,” he announced.

  I quirked a brow at him. “Did what?”

  “I bought a motorcycle today.”

  My jaw dropped. I don’t know why I was so shocked. I guess I was still absorbing the fact Max apparently had a new-found passion for motorcycles. I thought when he mentioned buying one today, he was just goading me for a reaction. I never believed he’d buy one.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep,” he confirmed with a smirk. “It’s a real beauty. Wait till you see it.”

  When he turned to walk back to the front door, I sat up. Did he expect me to follow him? “I’m not going,” I informed him adamantly.

  When he spun around, he tilted his head, a sly smirk on his face. “Go where?” he asked.

  “Down to look at your bike, Max,” I stated.

  “Where do you think it is?”

  “The parking deck. Congrats on buying a death machine, but I don’t have any desire to walk down there and see it. Especially with my bad ankle.”

  Crossing his arms, the same stupid and infuriating smirk on his face, he shrugged. “Who said you had to go to the parking deck?”

  Flopping back, I groaned. “Whatever, Max.” He could be so damn infuriating. How else would I see the bike if I didn’t go to the parking deck? Unless he brought it up to the apartment, but that would mean he would’ve had to bring it up on the elevator, which would be ridiculous. Popping up, my eyes widened. He didn’t, did he? “Where’s the bike?”

  His smirk brightened into a grin, and I wanted to choke him he looked so thrilled. “I’ll get it.” Then bending down, he picked Pim up and propped her on his hip.

  “Where are you taking her?” I squawked.

  Letting out a loud sigh, he lowered his chin and fixed his gaze on me. “Just to the front door,” he informed me. Spinning on his heel, he walked out of the room.

  “You didn’t bring that motorcycle up here did you?” I shouted after him, but he didn’t respond. “Don’t put her on it!”

  Scooting up I grabbed my crutches and stood. Once I was situated, I calle
d, “Max!”

  If he brought that motorcycle up here, he’d probably get kicked out of the building. What was he thinking? And he’d better not put Pim on it. She was only a baby and they were dangerous as hell. It didn’t matter to me if it was parked or not, I didn’t want her on one.

  “Max!” I yelled again. I managed to make it three steps when I heard something that sounded like it was grinding, almost like a loud electric pencil sharpener.

  When I looked down, Pim was rolling around the corner on a tiny hot pink three-wheeled power wheels motorcycle. Her face was lit up in a grin, as she looked up at me, her head donned in a matching bike helmet. Max was hunched over, walking awkwardly, his thumb holding the power button to make the bike move.

  “Now put your hand here, sweetheart,” he instructed her as he took her arm and moved it, so her hand fell over the power button. Max let go, and Pim pushed the button causing the bike to lurch forward which scared her and she let go.

  “Vroom-vroom,” she laughed, her gummy smile wide with a few baby teeth showing.

  “What is this?” I asked, as we watched Pim hit the button-lurch-stop-giggle.

  “I told you I bought a motorcycle today,” he quipped, then pressed his lips together to stop himself from laughing as he absorbed my expression. He’d duped me. He’d gotten me all worked up and bent out of shape for nothing.

  Rolling my eyes, I muttered, “Very funny. A three-wheeler?” I questioned dryly. “Since you’re such a badass biker guy now, I’m surprised you got her a trike instead of a two-wheeler.” There was no missing my sarcasm.

  “Trikes are for kids and old timers,” he affirmed. “Or for someone like yourself.”

  Like yourself? “What does that mean?” I asked, defensively.

  He snorted. “It’s not a slam against you. I just mean you seem like the kind of person that would be terrified to ride a real motorcycle.”

  Tilting my head, I narrowed my eyes at him. “You don’t know me, Max.”

  Giving me a smirk—one that screamed he did, in fact, know me—he asked, “You ever ridden a motorcycle, Waverly?”

  The answer to that question was no, but that had absolutely nothing to do with anything. Just because I hadn’t ridden on a motorcycle didn’t mean I couldn’t or wouldn’t. If I thought about it, riding a motorcycle did seem scary. Giving up control was hard for me, and the thought of putting my life in someone else’s hands like that was terrifying, but I’d be damned if I’d admit it to him.

  My crutches were irritating my underarms, so I adjusted, using it as an excuse to look away from him. “I’m not scared to ride a motorcycle.”

  “I didn’t ask if you were scared.” Glancing up, I found him watching me. He did ask if I was scared, didn’t he?

  “Yes, you did.”

  He clarified. “I asked if you had ridden one.”

  “Is there a difference?” I quipped.

  “Yes, there is.”

  “How so?”

  Scratching at his facial scruff he shrugged. “There is. People can do lots of things they’re scared of. Just because riding a motorcycle scares you, doesn’t mean you can’t, or won’t, do it.”

  “Jesus, Max,” I groaned, increasingly annoyed with this conversation. “No, I haven’t ridden on one. You happy now?”

  “Would you ride one?” He was relentless.

  “I don’t know. Maybe,” I sputtered.

  “Okay,” he acknowledged as he stepped toward me. “Then ride with me.”

  I laughed, a haughty sound. “With you?”

  Any happiness on his face disappeared, and his mouth flattened as he met my gaze with a look of seriousness. “Yeah, Waverly,” he stated firmly. “With me.”

  “Do you even know how to ride, Max?” I snickered. The idea was just too absurd.

  Taking another step toward me, he was inches away when he stared down at me, his gaze heavy with challenge. I desperately wanted to step back, to create distance between us, but I wouldn’t. I would not back down. That’s what he wanted me to do. Plus the crutches made moving backward awkward. “I’m not the Max Porter you remember, Waverly. I’m an entirely different man now. So please stop assuming you know everything about me.”

  My face heated as our stares remained locked. I hated these feelings. His words made me angry, they made me bitter, they made me ashamed. I wasn’t sure why I felt ashamed—maybe because I’d been acting bitter and I hated being that woman—the scorned abandoned woman? Or maybe I was ashamed because deep down something inside of me realized amidst all the hurt and anger that Max and I were flirting. Sort of. Isn’t that what we were doing? I was flirting with the enemy, and though the banter was tainted with some disdain—at least on my part—I was enjoying it.

  “Fair is fair, Max,” I quipped. “Don’t assume you know me either. I’m not the same woman you once knew.”

  “Then go for a ride with me,” he challenged.

  “My ankle is hurt, Max,” I argued holding my foot out for emphasis.

  “It’ll be better soon. We’ll take it easy.”

  Shaking my head, I asked, “Why do you want me to ride with you so badly?”

  Sliding his hands into his pockets, he answered, “Might be the last time I ever ride with a woman.”

  Looking away from him, I blinked a few times in confusion. What the hell did that mean? “Max,” I sighed. “You are puzzle inside of a riddle. You know that?”

  His body shook as he silently laughed, but when he looked down at Pim as she lurched and giggled, his laughter ebbed, and his smile faded into a subtle one. “Her first bike,” he spoke softly, his tone laced with pride and sentiment.

  “That’s the closest she’ll ever get to a real motorcycle,” I stated dryly.

  He didn’t look at me or acknowledge what I’d said. He was too mesmerized with Pim. Just then, Pim hit the power button and held it down. The bike whizzed forward with her holding on for dear life as she squealed.

  When she finally let go, and the bike stopped, she looked back at us and said, “Whoa.”

  Max and I both burst into laughter, and for a moment, I forgot to be mad at him for everything. I forgot Max Porter had abandoned us and had refused to be part of Pim’s life. For one moment, I got to share my amazing daughter with her father, without anger and animosity.

  And that made that moment so much more bittersweet.

  Later that evening, when I placed Pim in her travel crib, she fell asleep in under two minutes. She’d ridden the bike until the battery died, then cried for two hours until it was recharged and she rode it again. No doubt, the bike had been a hit. Pim was in love with it.

  Waverly . . . well . . . for Waverly the bike lost its luster after the battery died and we had to deal with a cranky toddler. After leaving Lenny that day, I can’t deny I was tempted to buy a bike for myself and ride. I even took a taxi to the nearest Harley store, but when I got there, I just couldn’t do it. I may have been Max Porter in the physical sense, but I was still Liam inside. I couldn’t get right with the idea that it was okay for me to spend his money on myself like that. I mean, he was already footing the hospital bill, though one could argue that was for both of us—if I pulled the plug, he could die. I’d spend what I had to live, but no unnecessary or extreme expenses. Not yet, anyway. I did make one exception for Pim. I justified buying her the trike because it was something cool that would make her happy. I also told myself Max should do something nice for his daughter.

  I laid a small blanket over Pim and brushed some of her baby-fine hair from her face. It had been a great day. “Goodnight, little sweetheart,” I whispered.

  When Max’s cell vibrated in my pocket, I waited until after I’d closed the bedroom door to pull it out.

  The name Dr. Banahan lit up on the screen.

  Quickly realizing a doctor calling Max this late in the evening on a Friday was probably because it was important, I decided to take the call. Maybe Max had some medical issue I didn’t know about.

  �
��Hello,” I answered, quietly. Waverly was in the kitchen washing dishes, and I didn’t want her to hear.

  “Max,” a husky male voice said from the other end. “You finally answered.”

  Scratching my head, I inhaled deeply. I didn’t like how this sounded. This is exactly how my conversation with Waverly started the day I woke up as Max, and she was definitely not a fan of Max. “Uh, yeah,” I voiced.

  “Well I’ll get straight to the point, Max,” he followed. “With the way things ended at your appointment last week, I wasn’t sure if you’d be coming back or not. Will you be here tomorrow?”

  Shit. What appointment? What if it was something I didn’t want to do, like a colon cleanse? The following day was a Saturday which also seemed odd. “Tomorrow is Saturday,” I pointed out. What doctor sees patients on Saturday?

  “Yes. It is, Max,” he replied, sounding somewhat perturbed. “These Saturday sessions were your choice. You didn’t want to run into anyone in the waiting room.”

  Really, Max? You made this doctor work on a weekend because you didn’t want to chance bumping into someone you know in the waiting room?

  “What would we be doing at tomorrow’s appointment?” I inquired. I knew it would make Max sound off, but what choice did I have? It sounded like therapy, but I needed to be sure.

  There was a brief silence before the doctor responded. “I’ve been concerned about you. When we last left off, you spoke about wanting to make some changes in your life. I think we should come back to that.”

  What changes?

  Dragging a hand down my face, I didn’t let out the groan I badly wanted to. Could Max be any more complicated? I had to go to the appointment, for many reasons. The first one being that if we took my body off life support, and somehow I remained living inside Max’s body, I needed to know everything I could about Max. Another reason would be I wanted to know about Max. I wanted to know what happened to him to make him such a selfish asshole.