Lovers at Heart (The Bradens, Book One: Love in Bloom Series)

Chapter Twenty, Lovers at Heart

Chapter Twenty

MAX PULLED THE top layer of a roasted marshmallow off and put it in her mouth, then licked the sticky sweetness from her fingers. It had been ages since she’d roasted marshmallows, and she was having a wonderful time talking with Vicky and her friends. This was just what she needed. A little time to de-stress and pull herself together. And to get over Treat’s newest girlfriend.

“Guess who I ran into?” Chris asked when he joined the group.

“God himself?” Vicky teased.

“Sort of. Treat Braden.”

Max choked on her marshmallow. Treat? Did he say Treat Braden? Of course he did. How many other names sound like Treat Braden?

Vicky patted her on the back. “Get her a drink, quick, Chris.”

Chris handed her a bottle of wine, which Max chugged, and when she stopped choking, she chugged some more, until she’d downed half the bottle.

“Max? A little thirsty?” Vicky said with a coy smile.

“Sorry. Thank you, Chris. Do you mind?” She pointed to the bottle. Treat. Jesus, he’s everywhere.

“Go for it.”

Before he finished answering, Max was already guzzling more wine. She lowered it from her lips with a loud, “Ahh.” She couldn’t drink fast enough. She sucked down another gulp and wiped a drip from her chin.

“Did you say Treat Braden?” she asked.

“Yeah, you know him?” Chris asked.

“Yeah, I know him.” Max looked down the beach as she sucked down more wine. “Tall guy, handsome as the day is long?” Long as the day is handsome! She finished the bottle of wine and plopped into a beach chair with a loud sigh. Shoot me now…No…give me another bottle of wine first. The alcohol warmed the ache and anger that had turned her flesh to ice.

“He’s got a place right in Wellfleet. I’ve known his family for years.” Chris laughed. “He still calls me Smitty, like his pop did. It was a nickname I had as a younger man.”

“A much younger man,” Vicky teased.

“Did you meet Treat here?” Chris asked.

Max shook her head. I made out with him a few times, and I’m in love with him. Oh, and he keeps breaking my heart.

Vicky planted herself in the chair beside Max. “I’ve been around a long time.”

Max stared at the fire, feeling the alcohol chipping away at her defenses and washing away her inhibitions.

“If I didn’t know better, and if I’m reading that empty bottle of wine correctly, I’d think that Treat might be the reason you’re here.”

Max looked at her without answering, then pushed herself to her feet, swaying from side to side until Vicky grabbed her arm and she found her footing. “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom. It’s in the parking lot, right?”

 “I’ll go with you,” Vicky said.

“No, I can manage. Thank you, though.” She started for the dunes, then turned back. “Vicky, you’re a really nice friend.”

Max stumbled toward the dunes, mumbling beneath her breath about blond women and tall men. She stumbled up the sandy ramp to the parking lot and found the small cinder-block bathroom. Inside, she flicked on the light and stood in front of the mirror, staring at her drunken, glassy eyes. Why did I do this to myself? Fly halfway across the country in search of a man who doesn’t even want me?

She removed the elastic from her hair and fluffed her long tresses over her shoulders, surveying herself in the mirror. She turned her face one way, then the other, narrowed her eyes, and then opened them wide again. I’m a pretty girl. Pretty girls are supposed to have happily-ever-afters. Kaylie got hers. Danica got hers. So why is the blonde getting mine?

She went to the bathroom, washed up, and headed back toward the beach. From the top of the dune, she scanned the beach for Treat. She spotted his height first, and her hand flew to her heart. Look at him. She bit her lower lip at the tug in her chest. The blonde stood beside him, and she kept touching his shoulder. “Don’t touch him,” Max said aloud.

She started down the steep incline and fell to her butt on the hard, packed sand of the ramp. She looked at Chris and Vicky’s bonfire, where all those nice people were smiling and laughing; then she looked up toward the bonfire where Treat was. More goddamned happy people. Max couldn’t take it anymore. She’d finally given herself up to a man—and she couldn’t even do that right. Here she was, alone, cold, and sitting on a hard sandy ramp. She gave in to the tears that had been begging to be set free for two full days. She didn’t wipe them away or cover her face. She didn’t care who saw her. She honored her sadness, allowing herself to feel the pain, like her heart had been beaten and tossed away only to be gnawed on by a mangy dog and walked all over again.