Page 59 of Maxwell

Trisha unfolded her hands and spread her fingers flat on her thighs. “I really liked you a lot, Max. Not the way you probably figure most women like you, because you send over expensive champagne or because you’re good-looking and have an easy-going smile. I liked you because when we talked, you were interesting. You asked questions and listened to the answers, which is not as common as it should be.” She inhaled deeply. “I thought we were working towards something, building a relationship. I’m not saying we were working toward marriage necessarily, but I thought what we had was real. I thought we were moving in a specific direction. Then I walked into the party and spent the better part of two hours watching you try to manage two women in the same room—poorly, I might add. The fact that you invited me to your sister’s engagement party made me believe I was special. I had no idea you were seeing other people.

“What’s worse, you seemed to think the whole thing was a big joke. And it dawned on me that I had misread every interaction that we had. I assigned significance to events and gifts that you clearly never intended to be significant.” Her voice remained level, but he heard an undercurrent of pain. “I was humiliated. Not only because I was there in that specific situation, but because I had been wrong about everything that had happened between us.”

Maxwell didn’t look away. True enough, he had handled the engagement party fiasco poorly, but he hadn’t truly appreciated that she’d had lofty expectations about the direction of their relationship.

“I didn’t know that,” he said.

“I know you didn’t. I realized that afterward,” she said quietly, without bitterness, which was more than he deserved. “That’s the whole point. You were playing a game I wasn’t privy to.”

“I shouldn’t have led you on. You deserved better.”

Her expression shifted, and he saw—not warmth, exactly—but perhaps a release from the bondage of regret and doubt about herself. “You’re right. I did. So why am I here? What do you want from me? Forgiveness?”

“I don’t want anything from you. I only wanted to apologize. I want to apologize for everything.”

Her eyebrows drew together in confusion. “That’s it?”

“Yes.”

She bit the corner of her mouth, still looking confused. “Well... thank you for saying all of this in person.”

“I appreciate you being willing to meet me and listening to what I had to say.”

“What prompted you to do this all of a sudden?”

Maxwell hesitated, and she must have read the truth on his face.

“Oh.” She pressed her lips together. “She must be really special.”

He remained silent. It would be in poor taste to tell a woman he treated badly how exceptional he thought the next woman was.

“Can I give you a bit of advice?” Trisha asked.

“Sure.”

“You came here to apologize, so let this be the beginning of true change. If she’s important enough for you to do all this, then stay the course. Don’t screw this up. This is gonna sound crazy, but you’re not just hurting her, you’re hurting yourself.” A faint smile touched her lips. “Think of how many amazing women you missed out on—like me. Don’t miss out on your next blessing.”

He allowed himself a smile. “Thanks. I won’t.”

They talked for a few more minutes, the conversation cordial. Trisha told him about her promotion a couple of weeks ago, and he told her how much he was enjoying being a doctor. She left first, and he watched her walk away through the window, her long legs taking her in a leisurely stride down the sidewalk.

He stayed in his seat, sipping his coffee.

A burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Some of the shame and guilt he’d unknowingly carried was gone, and he revisited the words his father had said to him on Friday night.

The man you were does not have to determine the man you become.

Energized and optimistic, he left the coffee shop and drove home, knowing something fundamental had changed inside him. Jasmine’s challenge no longer seemed daunting. He looked forward to calling the next woman. She deserved his apology. And after the next conversation, he would be able to collect his prize. Dinner with Jasmine.

Maxwell picked up his second phone—the one he’d be getting rid of after he passed Jasmine’s test—and searched for the next number.

Brinka was a waitress he’d hooked up with a few times and then fell off when she started expecting more than he was willing to give. He’d be lucky if she answered, but he was willing to try reaching her.

As he paced the living room, he listened to the phone ring several times before she answered.

“Maxwell?” Surprise filled her voice.

“Hey, Brinka, I need to talk to you. Is now a good time?”