THEN
Maxie arrived home from grocery shopping to find Isaac sitting at the kitchen table. She froze at the front door and stared at him for a moment. "Welcome home," he said with a grin.
"What are you—?"
"Maxie!" Van cried, coming out of her bedroom. "Thank God you're home! We're starving!"
Maxie remained there by the door, unable to hide her confusion. "Van invited me over for dinner," Isaac finally explained. "She said you'd be cooking."
Still puzzled, she said, "I always cook."
"See," Van said, joining Isaac in the kitchen. "Told you."
Isaac met her in the living room and took the plastic bags from her, his face coming impossibly close to hers as he leaned down to do so. His gaze never left her eyes. "What are we having?" he asked.
"Steak," she replied as he set the food on the counter. He grinned down at her.
"Steak is my favorite."
"Mine, too," Van said, although Maxie knew for a fact that spaghetti was Van's favorite. Shaking her head, she began to unpack the groceries. He stood by and helped.
"You changed your hair," he said.
She ran her fingers through her silky locks, no longer big, loose coils but thick, wavy strands. "Yeah."
"Alex likes it like that," Van said.
Isaac didn't reply. Maxie especially didn't reply. The kitchen remained silent, except for the occasional comment from Van. Finally, she left the table and plopped down on the living room sofa with the remote. "You guys are boring me," she said, turning on the television. When Maxie was sure Van couldn't hear, she turned to Isaac.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded.
He shrugged. "Eating dinner."
"Why?"
"I took your advice. Gave Van a chance. You were right. I like her." Maxie paused. Had she meant it when she'd told him to give her a chance? Had she really expected him to like her? "She's a nice girl," he added. Maxie looked away.
Good. Good for Van. Good for both of them.
"Yeah," she said. "She is. Well, thanks for helping me with the groceries. You can just watch TV with Van, now. I'll let you know when the food's ready."
"You don't need anything else?" he asked.
The response came to her instantly. I need you not to fall for my best friend.
"No," she replied, pushing the thought from her mind. "Thanks."
Alex arrived just in time for dinner. Maxie met him at the front door, and as always, he was dressed to impress, as handsome as ever. He smiled when he set eyes on her, a smile that would have made her smile in return, had she not felt Isaac's stare burrowing into the back of her head. "Hi," she greeted him.
He stepped inside and embraced her. "Mm," he said, kissing her temple. "You straightened your hair. It looks good. Longer."
"Funny, because the stylist cut it this time," she replied dryly.
He took her ponytail in his fist and ran his hand down the length of it. "You should let it grow out, then." He petted her a moment longer and then turned toward the rest of the apartment. "Smells good."
"We're having steak," she informed him.
He frowned. "Steak again, babe? That's what we had last time."
"Last time was two weeks ago."
Alex considered that and nodded. "Well, smells good, anyway. You know I'll eat anything you cook up." He moved past her into the living room. "Vanny, what's up?" he greeted. Van rolled her eyes.
He went to Isaac next. "Hey, man, I'm Alex."
Isaac rose from his seat on the couch and took a step toward Alex to shake his hand. The size difference was almost comical. "Good to meet you," Isaac replied, nodding. "I've heard a lot."
"Good things, I hope."
Isaac glanced back at Van as if to say not exactly, and forced a smile. "Of course."
"Okay," Maxie said with a clap of her hands. "Let's eat."
Everyone made their way to the kitchen and sat around the table while Maxie fixed plates. Extra gravy for Van, hardly any gravy for Alex. He liked a lot of potatoes, though, while Van always needed the perfect amount of starches to go with the amount of meat she was served. No vegetables for Alex. Double vegetables for Van. And for Isaac? "Make your plate first," he said. "I'll just take whatever's left."
Alex began to dig in as soon as his plate was in front of him. "I'm going to wait for Isaac," Van said when Maxie placed her plate on the table.
"Don't," said Isaac. "I'm waiting for Maxie."
"We can both wait for Maxie," said Van.
"No," said Maxie. "Don't wait for me. I want to straighten up a little bit before I eat—"
"We'll straighten up after dinner," Isaac interjected. "You cooked. Just eat."
Van shook her head and lifted her fork. "Forget it, Isaac, just eat. We'll starve if we wait for her."
But Isaac didn't touch his utensils, didn't even look at his food, until Maxie was in her seat. Alex was just about done. Van was halfway through. "Told you," she said. "Now your food's probably cold."
"It's fine," he said, finally reaching for his fork. "Growing up, we always waited for the last person to sit down before anyone ate." He didn't bother to mention that it was only ever him and his mother, and then him and his aunt.
Maxie couldn't look at him, though he stared unremittingly at her. Didn't Van notice? Or Alex? If either of them did, neither of them acknowledged it.
"So, Isaac," Alex said. "What do you do for a living?"
"I own a gym," he replied.
"A boxing gym," Van added proudly. "Mixed martial arts, too."
"Mm," Alex said nodding. "That's interesting. I shot a boxing match once at a gym. I'm a photographer, by the way."
"I heard," Isaac replied.
"Oh, did you? Maxie must've told you about Europe."
Isaac raised an eyebrow, Maxie shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Actually, no. She hasn't," Isaac said, eyeing her.
Alex also looked at her. "You haven't, Max? I'm surprised, she's always talking about it."
Van rolled her eyes. Isaac looked at Maxie. "Europe, huh? How was that?"
"Great," she said, sticking a large forkful of steak and potatoes into her mouth. Isaac grinned.
"Yeah? What did you do while you were there?"
"Oh, we did everything," Alex said, placing his hand over the back of Maxie's chair. She was still chewing. "We ate out in every city. We went sightseeing. We went to shows. It was beautiful. I can't wait to go back."
He turned to Maxie, beaming, and she returned a small smile, keeping her eyes on her plate. "What was your favorite part?" Isaac asked.
"Oh, I loved—"
"Maxie," he amended, stopping Alex in the middle of his sentence.
Maxie's eyes widened, as did Van's. Alex, however, simply looked to Maxie for her answer. "The food," she replied, finally swallowing her mouthful. "I loved the food."
"It's nothing like our version of it, huh?"
"Nothing at all," she said, shaking her head.
"The flavors from Europe just aren't right," Alex said.
"They're different, but that doesn't mean they aren't right," she argued. She stood and went to a small bookshelf hanging on the kitchen wall. She pulled a cookbook from it and brought it back to the table. "I got one from every city, with some herbs and spices," she said, opening the book and showing Isaac.
"What's this?" he asked, tapping one of the yellow sticky notes that protruded out from the pages. Maxie's small, whimsical handwriting covered the pages.
"Oh, just the recipes I want to try first. I noted some substitutions that I could make for the ingredients I don't have. And anything that I could add or change."
"Have you made any of it yet?" he asked, running his fingers over the shiny pages.
She sighed. "Not yet. Alex doesn't like any of it, and I don't want to waste a good meal on Van." She smirked at Van who glared at her.
Alex reached across the table and took the book from Maxie's hands. "I mean, all this stuff looks like it would taste good. But it's nothing like you would expect."
Rolling her eyes, Maxie took her book back. She admired it wistfully for a moment longer before closing it and carefully placing it back on its shelf.
Alex smiled. "Let me tell you why Maxie liked the food so much. Because the first city in Europe that we stopped in was Amsterdam. And the first thing we did in Amsterdam was go to one of those little cafés and get high. Maxie just had the munchies the rest of the trip." Alex laughed.
Van looked at her, bewildered. "Max, you got high?"
"Like a pro," Alex added.
Van stared at her, appalled.
"What, Van? It's just weed."
If possible, Van's eyes got even wider. "Since when do you do drugs?"
"It's weed."
"Marijuana is a drug!"
"So is Aspirin!" Maxie snapped.
"It's really not like Aspirin," Isaac added lightly.
Van glared at Alex. "Great job," she spat at him. "Good to know my friend is in good hands."
Red-faced, Maxie kept her eyes down as Van and Alex bickered. Isaac's eyes never left her.
"This is... some book collection," Isaac said, looking over the books on the shelf in the living room.
Van giggled. "Oh, you mean Maxie's romance novels? Yeah, there's enough burning loins on that shelf to fulfill a whole lifetime of lonely girls."
"They're not all romance," Maxie called from the kitchen.
"Ninety-five percent," Van whispered.
"What's this?" he asked, pulling a large book from the shelf. Both Van and Maxie looked up. Maxie frowned, Van beamed.
"Oh, that's our photo album!" Van cried, getting up from the couch.
"Actually it's my photo album," Maxie said, walking over to where Van and Isaac stood. "What is it doing out here?"
"I was looking through it last week," Van said with a shrug. She led Isaac back to the couch, where he sat and opened the album. The first picture was of Maxie, curls out and wild, like a blanket over her shoulders. She was smiling widely, her eyes sparkled with life.
"Is this you in high school, Max?"
"Yep, that's our girl," Van replied. He and Maxie exchanged glances.
He flipped to the next page. There she was again, with Van this time. Their arms were thrown around one another, their cheeks were pressed together. "You look so happy," he said.
"We were happy," Van said, reaching over and squeezing Maxie's hand. Maxie scoffed and went back to the kitchen.
"Who wants wine?" Alex called from the table, holding up an open bottle.
He poured four glasses while Van and Isaac flipped through the photo album and Maxie began to clear the counters. "This was Maxie's date for prom," she heard Van say. "He was crazy about her. And she didn't even want to go with him. She only went because she felt bad." Maxie glanced over at her roommate and Isaac. As she suspected, his eyes were on her.
"Wow, babe," Alex said, leaning over the album. He examined a picture of Maxie dressed in a black leotard and tights. Her hair was pulled back into a bun. She stood straight against the bar of a dance studio, her leg pulled up to her shoulder. "I've never seen you bend like that."
"That's because you never go to her recitals."
"I'm not six, Van. They aren't called recitals anymore."
"When's the next one?" Isaac asked. "I'd like to go."
Maxie shrugged. "March, sometime. I think."
"You should give us a preview," Van suggested.
Both Alex's and Isaac's eyes lit up. "Yeah, babe, let's see."
Maxie let out a nervous chuckle. "You're joking."
"Why? Plié or something," Van said.
"No." She turned away from them and grabbed the sponge to start the dishes. "I need to finish the kitchen."
"I'll finish it for you," Isaac offered.
"No."
"I'll finish it for you," Van said.
Maxie turned to them again, eyes narrow. "You'll clean the kitchen?"
"If you make it good," she replied, motioning toward the floor in front of them.
Rolling her eyes, Maxie turned off the faucet and threw down the sponge. "This is so stupid. You've seen me dance a hundred times, Van."
"Isaac hasn't," she replied, taking his hand, then cut a glare in Alex's direction. "Neither has he."
Drying her hands, Maxie went to the middle of the floor. "What do you want me to do?"
"Bend," Alex said, grinning mischievously.
"I can't bend. My ribs are bruised. I got hit by a car, remember?" She glanced at Isaac and he smiled.
"Stand on your toes. Like, the tips of your toes," Van said. "And spin around."
"Yeah," Isaac said, leaning back in his seat. "Spin around, Max."
Sighing, she positioned herself to dance. "It's called a pirouette," she snapped. Taking a deep breath, she executed three perfect spins. Then, for Alex's sake, she concluded with a leg extension. When she finished, Van jumped to her feet with applause. Alex eyed her lustfully. And Isaac.
Isaac looked at her in a way she had only ever hoped to be looked at. When she met his gaze, her face reddened and she turned away. "Great. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Kitchen's all yours, Van."
Van hugged her from behind and kissed the back of her neck. "Gladly. That was great."
As Alex opened a second bottle of wine, the foursome laughed out loud at one of Van's stories from high school. "...So then, she hits me again and says we're even—"
"We were even!" Maxie cried.
"We were not. You hit me first!" she shot back, holding up her glass so Alex could refill it.
"Max, is that still your first glass?" he asked, nodding toward hers. It was still full.
"She won't drink anymore," Van said, waving him off. "Leave her alone. Anyway, she hits me and says we're even! So then I hit her back, try to run, and slip on the ice!" She threw back her head and laughed loudly. Maxie also laughed at the memory. "So then... then..." She paused, unable to speak through her drunken giddiness. "Tell the rest, Max, I can't."
"She falls on the ice, and I immediately start laughing," Maxie said, nudging Van. "But I went to help her at the same time, and I ended up falling!"
"She sprained her ankle!" Van nearly yelled, and she and Maxie collapsed on top of one another in their hilarity.
"She had to carry me all the way home," Maxie said.
"On my back!" Van added. Maxie kissed her friend's face.
"We got in so much trouble," Maxie said. "Especially Van."
"And she's the one that started the whole thing!"
Isaac watched as they laughed, his eyes often lingering on Maxie's red, smiling face. "Isaac, I wish you could have seen me walking home, carrying her in the snow. We looked pitiful," Van said, sitting up to lean on him. Maxie met his gaze, and her smile faltered.
"Hey, Max," Alex said from the armchair. She'd almost forgotten he was in the room. "Is this from your mother?" He held up a piece of paper, ripped out from a notebook. When Maxie realized what it was, her eyes widened and she jumped to her feet.
"Where did you find that?" she shrieked, snatching it from him.
He blinked. "It was right in here, behind one of the pictures. I'm sorry, I didn't realize—"
"Give me!" she snapped, slamming the photo album shut and taking it from him.
Frowning, he said, "Hey, I didn't read it—"
"You shouldn't have touched it at all!" she lashed out. Her eyes were wild, her face was crimson, she was breathing hard. With trembling hands, she folded the letter and placed it back in the photo album. "Van," she hissed. "Stop taking stuff out of my room. I keep my things where they are for a reason. If I wanted this in the living room, I would've left it out here myself."
Swallowing hard, Van nodded.
Shooting one last look at Isaac, who looked at her with wide eyes and an open mouth, Maxie pivoted and disappeared into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
Silence fell over the room. Finally, Van turned sharply to Alex. "Thank you for that," she said.
"What? I don't even know what it was!"
"It was her mom's suicide letter!" Van whispered angrily. "And you pulled it out and waved it around!"
"I didn't wave it."
"Her mother committed suicide?" Isaac piped up. Suddenly, the haze of mystery that surrounded Maxie became a bit clearer. "Shit."
"Shit," Alex echoed. "Should I go talk to her?"
"No," Van said standing. She wavered and Isaac reached out to steady her. "I will. You should probably just go."
With a sigh, he gathered his things to leave while Van knocked on Maxie's door. When she received no answer, she returned back to Isaac. "Maybe I'll just give her some time. She'll probably feel better in the morning. I'm too drunk to be serious right now, anyway." She smiled and tugged on his shirt. "Want to go to bed?"
"What about the kitchen?"
She shrugged. "I'll do it in the morning."
He smirked, realizing she had no intention of cleaning the kitchen as she'd promised. "Go ahead. I'll meet you in a minute."
When Alex was gone, and Van was in her bedroom, Isaac went to the kitchen to finish what Maxie had started. He'd gotten through nearly all of the dishes when he heard her bedroom door open. She emerged from the room wearing a sweatshirt again, only this time she wore shorts beneath it. She stopped short when she saw him standing at the sink. "Oh. You're in here."
"Just straightening up," he said.
"You didn't have to. I figured Van wouldn't, so I was going to."
He shrugged. "It's fine."
She smiled weakly. "Well. Thanks." Looking away, she added, "And I'm sorry. About earlier. I know I ruined the evening."
He shook his head. "My father killed himself," he said. "After he killed my mother."
Maxie's eyes widened, and she raised her hands to her mouth. "Oh, my God. I'm so sorry."
"It was a long time ago," he said. She lowered her hands to her heart. "I wanted to tell you because..." He paused. "Well, you should just know that I understand, okay? It's hard for other people to understand. Most of the time, no matter how much they want to, they just don't. But I do." For a moment or so, they simply stood across from each other, not saying a word. Not a word needed to be said.
"Does Van know?" Maxie finally asked.
Isaac shook his head.
"She thinks I tell her everything," said Maxie. "But I don't."
Isaac nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I know."
NOW
Van moved around the apartment frantically, attempting to clean the open space that she had wrecked in Maxie's absence. Dishes filled the sink, leftover food littered the counters and kitchen table, magazines and books were spread out on the coffee table, and the pillows on the couch were thrown about. The floors needed to be swept, the furniture needed to be polished, the refrigerator needed to be emptied, and the girls only had an hour to get it all done.
"How did it get so dirty?" Maxie demanded, unsure of where to start on the mess.
"I'm busy," Van said, gathering her belongings off of the coffee table. "Between my photo shoots and the bar, I don't have time to clean. C'mon, Max, don't just stand there. Start the dishes or something. Isaac's aunt will be here soon."
With a sigh, Maxie obliged and started the dishes. She wasn't nervous about meeting Aunt Jenny, not like Van was nervous. She assumed it was because she was too nervous about being back in her own apartment for the first time since the night she was almost raped there, and watched a man die there, and found Isaac shot in the head there. But thankfully, she was too focused on the task at hand—Operation: Clean House—to think too much about what she had witnessed.
"You think he told her about me?" Van asked, dumping the old food from the counters into the trash. "He didn't tell me about her, but maybe he told her about me?"
"I'm sure he did, Van," she said, though she wasn't.
She paused and turned to Maxie. "Why do you think he didn't tell me about her, anyway?"
"I don't know." Because he doesn't trust you.
"And did you see that Daniel guy? He'd never even heard of me. Why's that?"
"I don't know." Because he doesn't love you.
"God," she said, leaning against the counter. "Isaac is so mysterious, so tight-lipped. Even after a year, I'm still trying to figure him out." She sighed. "I think that's why I still can't get enough of him, you know? Because he always keeps me guessing, always keeps me on my toes."
"Mm," was all Maxie said in return.
"And now, after all of this, it'll be like going back to square one. He'll have to learn to trust me again, and love me again." Maxie's heart was aching. Van was taking the words right out of her thoughts. "This is so hard."
Maxie turned to her friend. "Van, I don't mean to be insensitive, but we're down to forty minutes."
"Oh!" Van said. "Yeah, of course!"
They had nearly finished cleaning—in blissful silence—when Van stopped in the living room. "Hey, Max, what's this?" she asked.
Following Van's gaze, Maxie inhaled sharply when her eyes stopped on the gold picture frame hanging on the wall, just between the two living room windows. There was no photo, just the frame. "When did that get there?"
For a moment, Maxie didn't reply. She could only stare at the picture frame, willing herself not break down. Again. At last, she stepped forward and snatched it off the wall. "It's nothing," she mumbled, dropping it in the drawer of the side table it'd been hanging above.
"Did you put it up?"
"Yeah," she lied. "Just forget it."
Van frowned, turning away. "Gladly. That thing was creepy."
But even after Van disappeared into her room to get dressed, Maxie stood there, staring at the now empty spot on the wall. Just imagine it's a picture of us, Isaac had said. Right here, for everyone to see.
When Van emerged from her bedroom, her hair was fixed, her makeup was perfect, and she was dressed in a semi-formal floral dress that reached her knees, and pearl earrings. "Maxie!" she cried. "Is that what you're wearing?"
Maxie was dressed in blue jeans and a striped tee shirt. She wasn't even wearing any shoes. "Why are you so dressed up?"
Van looked down at herself. "Am I too dressed up? Should I change?" But it was too late. The doorbell rang.
Van's eyes widened, she spun around and ran her hands over the fabric of her dress, then through her hair. "Are you ready?" she asked, but Maxie was already making her way to the door.
She pulled it open and a small woman stood there, smiling. "Hi," she said. "You must be Maxie."
"Yeah, hi," Maxie said. For a moment, they simply stared at each other in a silent exchange, and then Jenny opened her arms and they embraced.
"Thank you for calling me," Jenny whispered into her hair. She rocked Maxie back and forth and patted her back. "I'm sorry it's taken me this long to get out here, but it's just hard..."
"I understand," replied Maxie. "Don't worry. No one's upset. We all understand."
Jenny pulled back. "I saw him yesterday, you know. He looks good. Still my same boy. Really can't remember anything from the past year and a half, though." She rubbed Maxie's arm. "I can imagine how hard that is on you, honey. Having to start all over again with him."
Van cleared her throat behind them. Maxie laughed nervously. "Actually, Aunt Jenny, I'm not Isaac's girlfriend." She stepped aside so Jenny could enter the apartment. "This is."
"Hello," Van said, coming forward. "I'm Savannah. You've probably heard of me."
Jenny looked puzzled. She glanced at Maxie, blinked. "Savannah?"
"Everyone calls me Van," she said. "Maybe you've heard that name."
For a moment, Jenny still looked confused, but her expression quickly grew impassive. So that was where Isaac learned to hide all emotions from his face. Little Aunt Jenny. "Oh, right," Jenny said, forcing a smile. "Van."
Van beamed, pleased to finally be recognized by someone. "Yeah," she said. "That's me."
Jenny looked at Maxie again. "And you're Maxie, right?"
"Yes."
"Maximilienne?" She pronounced it with the same brilliant accent as Isaac.
"Yes."
"Hmm." Without further words, she turned toward the rest of the apartment. "Well, this is a very cozy place you girls have. And it smells delicious."
"Oh," Maxie said, hurrying to the kitchen. "I put dinner in not too long ago."
Jenny followed her. "What are we having? Van, you cook, don't you?"
"No," Van said. "Maxie usually takes care of dinner."
Maxie saw thoughtfulness pass over Jenny's expression. "Oh."
"I'm a model," Van said. "I work at, ah... a small tavern, also."
"Right, of course. And you dance as well, right?"
Van frowned. "No. That's Maxie, too."
"Hmm," Jenny said, nodding.
"Modeling is my passion."
"Of course it is," Jenny replied.
"Well, I hear you like to swim—"
"Look!" Maxie interjected. "Dinner's ready! Who's hungry?"
Maxie wondered what Jenny was trying to prove. If she wasn't sure of what was going on when she'd walked in the door, she had to be sure now.
Maxie served both Jenny and Van. Jenny didn't touch her food until Maxie took her seat, and therefore, Van waited too.
"So, Van," Jenny said. "What kind of modeling do you do?"
"Oh, different kinds," she said. "Nothing major yet. Mostly catalogue. I've also done some hand and foot modeling."
"Isaac must be proud. Does he keep a lot of pictures of you?"
Van thought a moment. "You know, I'm not really sure." She shrugged. "Maybe he has a couple up in his apartment or something. I don't know."
"Why not? Don't you go to his apartment?"
"Not really." More like never, Maxie thought. "I mean, I don't really have a reason to. He pretty much lives here."
Jenny nodded. "How about you, Maxie?"
Both Van and Maxie stopped chewing. They exchanged glances before looking at Jenny. "Huh?" Maxie choked out.
"Have you been to Isaac's apartment?"
"Umm..." She cleared her throat. Van looked to her for an answer. "No, never." A small sigh of relief left her friend. Jenny simply grinned and took another bite of her food.
Over dinner, Maxie did her best to avoid conversation. After all, she didn't need to get to know Jenny, though it seemed Jenny knew plenty about her. A part of her was flattered, warmed by the knowledge that Isaac had spoken of her. If she had nothing else, she knew that he'd cared for her. Loved her.
Once.
It almost seemed impossible that he'd forgotten. Just like that. His thoughts of her, his memories of her, his feelings for her, gone. She only wished she could say he left her with nothing, but no. He left her with everything. The smell of him still lingered. The sensation of his hands on her still lingered. The sound of his voice, whispering against her ear, still lingered. He was all around her, inside of her, consuming her from the inside out.
He'd thought it'd been such a good idea to leaves clues for her, clues that he'd been there, clues that he loved her, clues that no one but her recognized. Now it seemed everywhere she turned, he was there. A piece of him, anyway. Small hearts he'd drawn on the corner of each page of her favorite novel, and tiny notes he'd stashed between the pages.
I'm thinking of you right now.
When you find this, come to me, wherever I am.
I love you.
I love you, Maximilienne.
One day, Maximilienne.
Their favorite movie was waiting to be watched on her television. The last song they made love to was programmed as the ringtone on her cell phone. He'd set every one of her alarms to go off twice a day, once at 11:11 AM, and again at 11:11 PM. Wish for me, he'd said.
She wished for him. Every single day. Every single night.
"Maxie!" Van said, nudging her.
She blinked and looked up.
"Huh?"
"I said I'm getting up. Do you need anything?"
"Oh, no. Thanks."
Van nodded and excused herself from the table. Jenny watched her as she made her way out of the kitchen and disappeared into the bathroom. When she was gone, Jenny turned to Maxie. "Well," she said, grinning. "You're in some predicament, aren't you?"
Maxie didn't look up as she shrugged. "I don't know what you mean."
"No?"
"No."
"I like you, Maxie," Jenny said. "Maybe now more than ever." She lowered her voice. "I understand why Isaac was so crazy about you." Maxie inhaled, shut her eyes. "What I don't understand," Jenny went on, "is why you're keeping up this charade."
Finally, Maxie looked at her. "I don't know what charade you're talking about."
Jenny's grin didn't falter, though her eyes no longer sparkled with amusement, but with pity. She leaned forward. "Have you two been carrying on like this the whole time?" Maxie said nothing. An exasperated chuckle escaped Jenny. "God, how sad for you." Maxie clenched her jaw, blinked back her tears. She said nothing. "And he doesn't remember, huh? He has no idea. Are you just going to keep it from him?" Still, she said nothing, though it seemed Jenny didn't need any replies. "Is it because of Van?" Jenny scoffed. "Van is a beautiful, sweet girl, but honey, Isaac could never love her. Whether or not he loves you, he will never love her. Just think about that."
At last, Maxie parted her lips to reply, but then Van sashayed back into the room. Shutting her mouth, Maxie shot Jenny one last glance before excusing herself.