"Ha... haha! Max, you have such a sense of humor." Lucy's mouth twitched as she forced a dry laugh.


You think I'm joking? Max sighed internally.


Being misunderstood was truly the destiny of anyone who tried to speak the truth.


Although Lucy viewed him as a 'receiver'—a safe bet to settle down with—Max didn't actually hate her. Aside from the fact that her plan was currently in the 'attempted but failed' stage, those memory fragments surfacing in his mind were affecting his emotions.


Loved once... it wasn't just an empty phrase.


Max shook his head, trying to fling away the inexplicable melancholy in his heart. He checked his phone.


"It's getting late," he said. "It's not safe for a girl to be out this late. Let's go."


Not hating her didn't mean this version of Max wanted to get tangled up with her.


Not taking revenge was the greatest mercy Max could offer Lucy.


"Mm!" Lucy seemed to sense Max's deliberate distance, and a flash of anger finally crossed her face.


The two walked out of the bar and into the pouring rain.


The rain came down in sheets, drowning the world in a smoky haze. The street was practically deserted.


"What am I supposed to do?" Lucy looked at Max, batting her eyes with practiced helplessness. "I forgot my umbrella."


"No worries. Take mine."


Lucy stared at the item Max shoved toward her. She had to suppress a massive internal facepalm.


Who brings an umbrella to a bar? she thought furiously. And not just any umbrella—this thing is basically a patio tent!


This was definitely not following the script she'd written in her head. Total bastard.


"But... what about you?" she pressed, trying to salvage the moment. "It's pouring. You'll never catch a cab in this."


She wasn't wrong. The streets were dead. Even the cars seemed to be hiding, waiting for the sudden deluge to pass.


"It's fine," Max said, oblivious. "Bus stop's right there. I can make a run for it."


"Let me walk you over, at least."


Max hesitated for a second, then nodded. "Okay."


They huddled under the massive umbrella, power-walking toward the transit stop. Suddenly, a gust of wind whipped down the street. Lucy—apparently losing her grip—let the umbrella go flying. It skittered several meters away.


"Ah!" Lucy cried out, seemingly startled. She stumbled, twisting her ankle, and collapsed onto the wet pavement.


Rain hammered down on them instantly. Max scrambled to help her up, but by the time he'd retrieved the runaway umbrella, they were both soaked to the bone.


"I'm so sorry!" Lucy balanced gingerly on one foot, looking up at him with wide, teary eyes. "My old ankle injury... I think I tweaked it. It really hurts."


Max stared at her.


"Let's just get out of the rain," he said finally.


Without thinking it through, Max grabbed her arm and hustled her into the nearest open door.




"Hazel? What's wrong?"


"Nothing." Hazel stared out the car window, her expression flat. "Just saw a total dirtbag."


Not far away, she watched the backs of Max and Lucy—locked in a supportive "embrace"—disappear through the doors of the Springview Hotel.




"Uhh..." Max looked around the lobby. He swore he hadn't realized this was a hotel. A very... discreet hotel.


But, you know. Right next to a bar? Everyone knows what these places are for.


"Achoo!" Lucy sneezed, wrapping her arms around herself and shivering.


The AC hit their wet clothes like a physical blow. Even Max shivered. He glanced back at the storm raging outside. It wasn't letting up.


Sigh. What a mess.


"Look, I'll book a room so you can dry off. You can't go home like this; you'll get sick."


"Huh?" Lucy managed a blush. "Is... is that appropriate?"


"Don't get the wrong idea. I'll get you settled, then I'm out of here."


"Oh. Well... okay then."


They booked a King-size room. The receptionist gave them a look that was equal parts knowing and bored as they headed for the elevator.


Inside the room, Max cranked the heater.


"Alright. Go take a hot shower and change. I'm leaving."


"Wait! Max," Lucy called out, biting her lip. "The rain is insane out there. Why don't you wait it out? Your clothes are soaked, too. Take them off... I can help you dry them."


Max turned to look at her, and his throat went dry.


She wasn't wearing much to begin with. The rain had plastered her T-shirt to her skin, making the fabric translucent. It clung to every curve, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.


The blurry, see-through look? That was lethal.


Combine that with her shy, come-and-get-me posture, and any normal guy would be having a serious testosterone spike right now.


Max... was definitely a normal guy.


He knew exactly what this was. If he nodded right now, tonight would be a rite of passage. He could pounce like a starving wolf, and she'd probably offer only token resistance—the whole "no, stop, wait... okay" routine—before whispering, "You have to take responsibility for this," tomorrow morning.


Part of him wished he was a total scumbag.


If he were, he could just go with the flow. Rock the sheets. Hit it and quit it. He wouldn't have to worry about who she'd been with before or who came after.


He wouldn't even have to worry about Lily, because Lucy would be his perfect alibi.


He had the money. He had the knowledge of the future. If he just hardened his heart, he could be the "winner." He could have the easy road.


One path was a paved highway; the other was a tangle of thorns.


It was all a choice.


Max forced his eyes away from Lucy's curves.


"Nah. I'm young, I run hot. The rain will cool me off. You get some rest. I'm gone."


He spun on his heel, heading for the door. He was afraid if he stayed one more second, his resolve would crack, and he'd do something that felt great but ruined everything.


Lucy stood there, stunned.


She had seen the fire in his eyes. She knew she had him. She was ready for him to make the move. And then... he just shut it down?


The meat is literally on the fork and he's not eating?


Was her charm broken? Could she seriously not handle one guy?


It wasn't just a rejection; it was an insult.


Lucy gritted her teeth and made her move.


Max felt a sudden weight hit his back, followed by arms wrapping tight around his waist. A hot, soft body pressed against him.


"Max, I... I like you!"


Max sighed internally.


Just some time ago, he'd been the one confessing his feelings to someone else. Now the tables had turned.


Funny thing, though. Both confessions were exactly the same: full of hidden agendas, and completely devoid of a soul.


Was this instant karma?


With sheer willpower, Max pried the hands off his waist. He spun around, grabbed the girl by the shoulders, and looked her dead in the eye.


"This isn't how real affection works," he said firmly.


Max's gaze was so sincere that Lucy couldn't handle it. Her eyes darted away, unable to meet his.


"Max, what are you saying?" she stammered. "From the moment I first saw you..."


"Enough." Max didn't yell. His voice was flat, final.


In one smooth motion, he draped a bathrobe over her soaked form.


"Next time, don't hurt yourself to get what you want," he said. "Even if you don't care about yourself, you should think about the kid."


Lucy froze like she'd been tased. She stared at Max, her face a mask of total disbelief.


He knew? How could he possibly know?


"Look, I figure you've got your reasons," Max said, his tone softening slightly. "But if you're actually going to keep the baby, you need to be honest. For the kid's sake. You can't buy happiness with lies."


Max walked to the door, then paused. He turned back to Lucy, who was still doing a great impression of a statue. He smiled.


"Oh, almost forgot. Congratulations. Due date's end of the year. It's an eight-pound, bouncing baby boy."


Bang.


The door slammed shut, leaving Lucy standing alone in the room, absolutely thunderstruck.