She shakes her head. “Wouldn’t people have known? And then there’s the ring. Didn’t Max say he proposed months ago?”
It’s crazy to have this conversation here, in this bar that is so loud I practically have to scream my secrets to the world. But I’ve held on to Nate’s words for over twenty-four hours now and suddenly I can’t handle it anymore. I need answers.
“I saw Nate at Maggie’s last night, and he said I never cheated on Max. He said Max and I were secretly broken up, and I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t want Mom to find out. She was helping him get a grant—a grant that was going to keep his club open.”
“The Healthy Tomorrow Grant,” Liz says. She swallows hard. “They’ll announce the recipient next week, but I’m pretty sure Max is going to get it.”
I know this already, yet hearing Liz say it makes my stomach churn.
“Why did you break up?” Liz asks. “And why didn’t Max tell you?”
I stare at my drink, Nate’s words echoing in my ears. “Maybe because he doesn’t want you to remember that he broke your heart.”
Liz narrows her eyes. “What are you not telling me?”
I exhale a long breath full of worry and second guesses. “What if I’m not the only one in this relationship who hasn’t been completely honest?”
“What did he do?”
I tell her about the random text message Max received the night of the engagement party and Max leaving because Meredith needed him. “It’s not that I don’t believe that’s possible. We all know she thinks the world is her freaking oyster, but why is anything she needs more important than being with me? There was something about it that made me feel…”
“Like he was lying,” Liz supplies.
Tears fill my eyes as I nod. “I know it’s not fair. He’s a good guy, and I’m sure I’m just projecting my own guilt onto him or whatever.”
She opens her mouth then closes it again before reaching over and taking my hand. “We’ll figure this out,” she whispers.
“It might not matter anyway. Tomorrow I’m telling him the truth about Nate. If Nate’s wrong and Max and I weren’t broken up, that might be the end of us anyway.”
“He loves you,” she assures me.
“Would you want me to marry him if things were the other way around?”
She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have to.
I look down at my phone and see the notification light blinking at me. I have a voicemail. “I missed a call. I’m going to go outside and listen to this message.”
I wedge my way through the crowd to make it out the front door of the club. My ears breathe a sigh of relief when the door floats closed behind me and takes the noise with it.
“Hanna Cakes!” the woman on my voicemail chirps. “It’s Elle! I was hoping I’d catch you in person, but apparently I didn’t. Tonight is Cally’s bachelorette party, isn’t it?”
I frown at the phone because I have no idea who Elle is or why she’d know about the bachelorette party.
She sighs heavily. “Well, I hope you’re having a freaking fabulous time because you deserve it. Listen, I’m sorry to throw this at you tonight of all nights. I know you have your own shit you’re dealing with right now, but Nate’s a freaking mess since he got home last night. He’s spiraling out bad. I tried to get him to snap out of it before I left, but he doesn’t listen to me. You’re the only person who can get through to him. Please go to the house and see what you can do. I don’t like to imagine him leaving for his trip in this condition. I’m about to board my plane and then I’m en route to India, and I’ll check in when I get there, but then I’ll be MIA for a few weeks. Remember that spiritual cleansing I told you about? The one Madonna raves about? Well, they gave me a spot, though the timing is shitty because electronics are a total no-no through the program. Go take care of him, okay?”
I’m still frowning at my phone when Lizzy, Cally, Maggie, and Nix push out of the club, all smiles and excitement.
“Who was it?” Liz asks.
I shake my head. “Nothing important. What’s up next?”
“We’re going to crash the boys’ party at the strip club,” Maggie says with a grin.
Nix sidles up beside me. Her request for tonight was that we make her “look like a girl,” and when we put her in fitted jeans and a fitted shirt, she said, “No, a slutty girl.” So she’s wearing a tight black skirt that shows her long, toned legs—apparently I’m not the only runner in this group—and a strapless pink top that shows off her shoulders. She wanted to wear sky-high heels, but we nixed that plan when we saw she wasn’t able to walk in them without falling over.
“My nurse called me yesterday afternoon,” she says as we move down the sidewalk toward the strip club where the guys are supposed to be. “Your blood work results are back. I’m sorry I haven’t been in the office to look at them yet, but I’ll be there tomorrow. I’ll give you a call.”
“I think they took enough blood to give a someone a life-saving infusion,” I inform her.