Infinity: Based on a True Story Read online

  He winks at me, grabbing my hand and swinging the front door open. “That was the plan.”

  “I have to be back before John gets home, though.”

  “Sonny said he wouldn’t be off until after ten.”

  “Yeah… but knowing John, he’ll try to get off earlier just to check on me.”

  “Man,” Max said, chuckling, “that guy doesn’t let up, huh? Maybe he’s the reason you can’t breathe. All that damn smothering.”

  Max continues his laugh, walking ahead of me.

  Normally I would join in with him, but this time I don’t. I come to a rapid halt before pulling the passenger door open.

  At first, I was more than willing to spend an hour with Max, play catch-up and all of those things, but after his horrible joke I realize exactly why it didn’t work out with us before.

  Bad memories of us come tunneling back, memories that make my heart ache just thinking about them.

  I’m quiet for a long time, staring at him as he unlocks the doors. When he’s inside the car, I’m still standing outside, stepping back with my thumb tucked beneath the strap of my bag.

  Realizing my hesitancy, Max hops out of the car and looks over the top of it at me. “Shannon? What’s wrong?”

  “I think… maybe I should just stay home.”

  Max’s smile fades. I look away before it straightens. I hear his door slam shut, but my back is already to him, my feet going as fast as they can to get to the door. He catches me, spinning me around, head tilted.

  “Did I offend you?”

  “It would have offended him too.”

  “I… that wasn’t my intention. It was a joke.”

  “I don’t think me suffocating is something to joke about. That was a horrible thing to say—especially for someone who’s been here five minutes, when John’s been here watching me struggle for years, Max.”

  He swallows hard, scratching the top of his head. “I’m sorry.” His eyes are full of guilt and a pinch of sympathy.

  The sad thing about this is I’m weak for Max. I’m weak for him because we’ve been through so much. There’s so much that people don’t know about us.

  Yes, we split up years ago, but there are reasons behind it—big ones. Reasons that are hard to talk about.

  Some situations are uncontrollable, some just downright heart-shattering. Some I didn’t deserve and some things I wish I could take back.

  I’ve always wanted to live with no regrets, but with Max I have many regrets. Many things that could’ve been done differently.

  “Let me make it up to you,” he offers, stepping back.

  “How?”

  “I’ll take you somewhere special… somewhere I’m sure you haven’t been in a while.”

  I thin my eyes at him. “I’m pretty sure I already have an idea of where that place might be.”

  “You wanna go?”

  “Sure.” I point a finger at him. “But no funny business, Mister Grant. Don’t let our past make you feel like you have leeway with me. I’m a married woman now.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he says, smirking over his shoulder. “I won’t do anything. I just want to show you something.”

  He holds the door open for me, allowing me to slide on top of the warm leather seats. When he’s inside, I roll my eyes at him. “I already know what you’re going to show me.”

  “Then why are you tagging along?” His smug smile causes me to pinch him. That pinch doesn’t bother him at all.

  “Because,” I sit back in my seat and clip my seatbelt, “this is my first real adventure in months. I’m on my own. Freedom. That’s what you’ve always given me and I’m accepting it.”

  With that fact, the corner of his mouth pulls up and he starts the car. “I’m your freedom?”

  “You used to be.”

  He laughs. “Good enough for me. At least I’m not an overbearing ass.” His snide remarks are never going to end. I know that now. All I can do is let them roll off my shoulders.

  He doesn’t like John. He hates that he stole me away from him, swept me off my feet the same way he did. He hates that he has to work so hard just to be near me.

  He was too late. He let go. And sometimes letting go isn’t always the best choice.

  Sometimes letting go means losing someone that you never thought could mean so much to you. Letting go can make you suffer, especially when it’s something perfect.

  Something real.

  Something irreplaceable.

  Something incredible.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Past

  Four Years Ago – Max & I

  It was Max’s birthday.

  June 16th.

  He’d just turned twenty-five and we were five months into dating. Everything was perfect, from him showing up at my doorstep with boxes of popcorn, chocolate and wine (because I didn’t care for flowers back then), to me showing up at his place, wearing a foxy trench coat and nothing underneath but sexy lingerie from Victoria’s Secret.

  I’d just clocked out of Capri. Of course Max was off, taking the night off to celebrate. Although he was spending his Tuesday night at home, I knew he was most likely getting drunk with a few friends, having a ball in his so-called bachelor pad.

  “What are you gonna do for him tonight?” Quincy asked as I slipped into my jacket.

  I shrugged, tossing my hair over my shoulder. “I’m not sure. I bought a cake and some movies. He claims he doesn’t want to do much but watch them with me and do the whole shebang,” I laugh, picking up my satchel, “so I guess that’s the plan.”

  “The shebang, huh?” Quincy’s eyes narrowed as he topped off a martini with a swirled lemon peel.

  “Yep. I think we’re past the constant sex phase. We’ve reached a new milestone. Eating junk food, cuddling, watching movies, and if it so happens that our clothes end up being tossed aside and we’re naked between the sheets, then so be it.”

  Quincy sighs, pouting his bottom lip. “You have no idea how much I wish for that. The men I meet are so fucking inconsistent.”

  He rolls his eyes, handing his drink to the young woman waiting a few feet down the bar with a twenty-dollar bill in hand. He accepts the bill graciously and she prances off.

  “It’ll come. Don’t rush it.”

  He groaned. “Oh, I’m rushing it. I need a man, like, today. Right now.”

  I turned and laughed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Q.”

  “See ya, babe!”

  I pushed out of the back door, unlocking the door of my car and climbing in. After stopping by my apartment to pick up the cake, balloons, and movies, I gave Max a call. He didn’t answer so I left a quick voicemail.

  “Hey, you’re probably completely wasted—which you have a pass for since it’s your birthday and all—but I just wanted to let you know that I am on the way. Hope you don’t need anything else tonight. I refuse to come back out once I get there.”

  Ending the call, I took the freeway, driving for fifteen anxious minutes and pulling off the ramp, coming into Max’s rather expensive neighborhood in Ballantyne. His parents made really good money.

  He was well taken care of by them and with the tips he got at Capri.

  Parking the car, I climbed out, collecting the cake and balloons first. After sliding on my satchel and locking my doors, I was on the way up to his apartment.

  I knocked several times, not even realizing the broad smile I wore. I couldn’t believe I was so eager to see him.

  I hadn’t seen him all day. We texted throughout my shift. He wanted to stop by the bar but I told him it was better to stay home, that way he wouldn’t end up too drunk to drive back. He hated leaving his car behind.

  I knocked for the third time, my smile slowly fading.

  “Max?” I called behind the door. “Open up. It’s me.” Several seconds later and the lock clinked. The door swung open and I prepared myself for an intoxicated boyfriend… only it wasn’t an intoxicated boyfriend that I got.

  It was a gi
rl. A very beautiful, and familiar, girl.

  She had long brown hair and mocha skin that was almost the same shade as mine. Her piercing green eyes locked with mine and she clung to the door, a smile threatening to take over her lips.

  She reminded me of a young Vanessa Williams.

  I knew exactly who she was without even having to be told.

  Max’s old girlfriend, Evelyn.

  “Why are you here?” I asked, stepping past her and looking around the apartment.

  Everything was in place. Nothing out of order. No panties or bras lying around.

  I placed the cake on the counter, releasing the balloons and hearing them bump the ceiling.

  Whirling around, I marched towards Evelyn and asked, “Why. Are. You. Here?” My voice was demanding and full of unknown rage.

  She held up an ugly-ass gold necklace with a pearl on the end, smirking. “Needed something.”

  I blinked at her, disregarding the ugly fucking necklace and storming for the bedroom. I expected to see Max lying there, half-naked but he wasn’t there. I checked the shower. No sign of him.

  “Where is he?” I asked.

  “Not here.” She laughed as I entered the bathroom again.

  Walking out, I thinned my eyes at her, opening the door. “Get out. Please. Right now.”

  She held her hands up in the air, picking up her Coach purse and walking past me.

  “In case you’re wondering,” she started, digging in the purse for something, “I have a key to his place. I told him I needed to stop by and get something and he said it was fine.”

  That bastard! He actually talked to her? Kept up with her? And why in the hell did she have a key and I didn’t? I watched as she dangled it in the air.

  Instead of responding I slammed the door in her face, mainly so couldn’t claw her to pieces.

  I drew in a deep breath and then went for my phone again. There were three missed calls from Max. He was most likely calling to inform me that he wasn’t there, and also so I wouldn’t run into his ex.

  Too late, jackass.

  I called back. No answer.

  When I dialed again, the door swung open and in he walked, eyes lazy, body staggering, drunk as hell.

  “Babe?” He was breathless, putting on a smile. He came towards me but I backed away, which caused him to land on the sofa. He tried playing the fall off, but it didn’t work. He was too drunk. Clumsy. Far from charming.

  Max,” I said with a hand on my hip, doing my best to keep my patience, “I’m going to ask you a question and I want the truth. Do you understand?”

  He shrugged. “I always tell you the truth, don’t I?”

  I ignored his question because, frankly, I had no clue if he always told me the truth or not. This was Max we were talking about. A man I’d just met, but fell so hard for.

  He was a dreamboat, someone I thought I wanted to marry later on in life, merely for his good looks. Boy, am I glad I grew out of that idea.

  “Why was Evelyn in your apartment?” I asked him, staring him straight in the eyes.

  He looked confused and senseless for a second, but when he thought about it, he said, “Oh, she said she left her necklace here from a long time ago. Some hand-me-down traditional thing. Her mom’s in town and she has to have it on while she’s around or some shit.” He shrugged again. “I don’t fucking know. I don’t care.”

  “Okay,” I murmur, “I have another question.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why in the hell does she still have a key to your apartment? And why in the hell do you still stay in touch with her?”

  “That’s two questions.” His voice was garbled.

  I frowned, stepping forward and shoving him back against the cushion of the couch. “I don’t give a shit how many questions it is, Max! Why does your ex-girlfriend still have a key to your apartment!?”

  “I don’t know, Shannon! I forgot! I guess I never thought to ask for it back!”

  “That should’ve been the first thing you asked for, dumbass!”

  “Well, I forgot until tonight. Why are you acting like that? Like she can just walk in whenever she wants?”

  I gave him an obvious look, throwing my arms in the air with exasperation. “Because she can! She could walk in here at two in the morning, give you head in the middle of the night and then fuck you and you wouldn’t even stop her.”

  As if the image of that intrigued him, his eyes widened and he gave me a blank stare.

  Witnessing it pissed me off. The desire in his eyes. The want.

  Being drunk revealed the true Maximilian Grant.

  “You know what”—I shook my head, huffing a laugh as I turned around and picked up my bag—“I’m out of here. You are un-fucking-believable.”

  Max hopped up, rushing for me before I could make it out the door. “Wait—Shakes, what did I do?!”

  “Don’t call me that,” I seethed, glaring up at him. “Don’t fucking use that name on me.”

  He watched me walk away before speaking again. “Babe,” he called after me, rushing down the hallway. “I’ll get the key back. If that’s what you want, I’ll get it back.”

  I spun around, thinning my eyes. “Max, I come here every fucking night and I have to knock on the door. She’s coming by when you’re not even at home. She can waltz right into your place and treat it like her own. How is that fair to me, your girlfriend? The one you’re with now? The one you claim to care about deeply?”

  He stared down at me, speechless. Max wasn’t big on words. He wasn’t big on explaining or defending himself. I think he’d grown accustomed in his previous relationships to not giving a fuck and shrugging everything off.

  He did it often with Evelyn. I witnessed his carelessness as he sat at the bar with her. That was during the times when I barely said a word to him.

  But with me, it was different. I was glad that he was learning to change, but he just wasn’t there yet.

  He struggled with words, all of them catching in his throat as he tried to formulate the proper response.

  It was worse because he was drunk—worse because it was his birthday and I felt horrible for ruining it. But I had too much pride and too much respect for myself to just stay.

  I blew out a sigh and then stood on my toes, placing a kiss on his cheek.

  “Maybe you’ll get where I’m coming from when you’re sober. Until then, enjoy yourself, Max. Have a good night.” I walked away, catching myself before I could make it to the stairs. “Oh, and happy birthday. Your cake is on the counter.”

  Still confused, he stood in the middle of the hallway, calling after me, begging me to come back. A good girlfriend would’ve tried to work it out that night, but I wasn’t a good girlfriend. In fact, I was a horrible one.

  I can admit that back then, I felt like the world revolved around me. I figured since I was the girlfriend, he needed to do whatever it took to make me happy again. That everything had to go my way. That nothing was ever my fault.

  Happy girl, happy world, right?

  I was in the wrong some of the time, yet I constantly blamed a boyfriend that was still learning how to be loyal. I was blaming a man that was used to partying and having a different girl on his arm every two months.

  Being with me was Max’s longest relationship. We’d been at it for five months and there were hardly any dull moments.

  He loved that—that feeling of being comfortable with someone. Happy with them. Adoring every aspect of them just as they do the same to you. Being able to try something new with someone that didn’t mind it at all.

  But he was still learning and I was already at the head of the class. He had a lot of catching up to do, and I was far from patient.

  In my life, being patient had never worked out. When I wanted or expected something, I made it happen and I did it right then.

  Not months or years later.

  Not tomorrow.

  Not within the next hour.

  Right fucking now.


  I didn’t hear from Max the rest of the night, and it kind of pissed me off. No call. No text. Nothing. I figured he either drank himself into oblivion while eating cake and passed out, or he just went straight into passing out.

  I went to work the following night, agitated and on edge. I was upset because I still hadn’t heard from him. He had a shift behind the bar with me and I wasn’t looking forward to it.

  I got there first. He showed up minutes later, stepping behind the counter and rubbing his hands together, ready to tackle the night. The music cranked up, people flooded the club with cash and credit cards at the ready.

  For the most part, I was busy so I paid Max little mind, but during the moments when we were slow, I felt him staring at me. Watching like a hawk.

  I may have purposely worn a short black dress with the word Capri across the chest. The dress showed all my curves and a lot of my bosom. Emilia helped me curl my hair and do my makeup, so I was pretty damn sexy that night.

  It didn’t help that the men that came up to the bar were flirting with me, and it damn sure didn’t help that raunchy, skanky girls were flocking to flirt with my boyfriend.

  I did my best to ignore them as they leaned over the counter, batting their extension eyelashes and puckering their lips at him. Some reached over the counter to tuck the money into the pocket of his shirt, aiming to feel how “big and strong” he was.

  He didn’t stop them, and when I happened to look in his direction, he actually held onto one of the girls’ wrists, whispering something in her ear.

  She giggled and blushed, pulling away slowly and picking up her drink.

  I watched her disappear into the flailing arms and gyrating bodies of the dance floor before looking at him. He was already looking at me, arms folded, a subtle smirk on his lips.

  He winked.

  I flipped him off, picked up a rag, and started cleaning off my area.

  Something warm pressed against on my entire backside seconds later, something hot on my ear. “You’re mad?”

  I turned around, meeting mellow brown eyes. “Fuck off, Max.”

  He wasn’t surprised by my response. Instead he reeled me in before I could get away and I crashed into his hard body. All I felt was abs and muscle. All I smelled was the heavenly scent of a man. All I could think was damn.