Me: Awwww. Awwww.

Max: Did you just see a puppy? Did you just see a puppy?

Me: What? What?

Max: 'Awwww'? People say that when they see a puppy or a baby. I was hoping you would say 'I'll make it up to you'. 'Awwww'? People say that when they see a puppy or a baby. I was hoping you would say 'I'll make it up to you'.

Me: I'll make it up to you. I'll make it up to you.

Max: Awwww. Awwww.

Me: Haha! I have to get back to talking to my sister. By the smile on my face she might a.s.sume the worst. Haha! I have to get back to talking to my sister. By the smile on my face she might a.s.sume the worst.

Max: She'd be smart to. She'd be smart to. Talk to you tomorrow. Miss you. Talk to you tomorrow. Miss you.

Me: Me too. Me too.

I closed the texts and pulled up the browser, went to Google Images and found a picture of Max.

"Here. This is him."

I handed her my phone.

She looked at the picture, then looked at me, then back at the picture. "Get out of here. You're seeing this hottie?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Gee, thanks."

"No, no. I didn't mean it like that." She burst out laughing. "That came out wrong. It's just...wow, he's gorgeous."

"And nice, and funny, and kind-hearted, generous, interesting, exciting, creative-"

She interrupted: "Honest?"

"Yeah. Well, except for this one thing." I told her about Liza Carrow.

"I see why he didn't tell you right away, though."

"I know. I wasn't fair to him when it happened. But we're past that."

She handed the phone back to me. "Hate to say this, but I'm jealous."

"Oh, stop."

"He's no Brian. Speaking of which, I need to call and see how things are going there."

While she made her call, I looked at Max's picture, then at the texts we'd just exchanged. d.a.m.nit, I had fallen hard for him, and I was so in love there was no turning back.

I went into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth while she finished up her call. I was starting to get tired and couldn't wait to get to sleep. With all the talk of Max, though, combined with a little talk of Chris, and the random way my fears reared their ugly head, I hoped I wouldn't have one of those nightmares again while I slept in the same room with my sister.

TEN

The next morning, we all ate at a nice restaurant that served a great breakfast. My dad said it was too expensive a place to eat, and when I said I was buying, we spent the next ten minutes with him and my mom arguing that I "can't" and then "shouldn't have to" pay for all of us to eat when we could grab something quick at a fast-food place.

I won the debate, mostly because I just started walking into the place and Grace followed.

After breakfast my parents wanted to see where I worked. Gulp Gulp. I hadn't even thought about that. Later the night before, after Grace got off the phone with her husband, I told her the rest of what was going on with me: quitting the job, but soon working with Max. She promised not to say anything to my parents. Luckily, it was a Sat.u.r.day, so all we had to do was drive by the building and I pointed while saying, "That's it. Just a regular building."

Whew.

We spent the better part of the afternoon taking a tour of Universal Studios. It was something I hadn't done yet since coming to LA, so I didn't mind doing something so "touristy."

I got to push the stroller around for a while and at one point when my parents and Grace went to use the restrooms, I sat on a bench in the shade, alone with my baby niece. People-mostly women and girls-stopped by and cooed at her, telling me how beautiful she was. I just thanked them, not telling them she wasn't mine.

I'd never even thought about being a mother before. Certainly not like my own mother had, and not even like Grace had. But that was the first time I'd experienced anything resembling the desire to have a child. Definitely a strange feeling for me.

I got a text from Max: Let me treat your family to dinner. Let me treat your family to dinner.

Me: Well, h.e.l.lo to you to. Well, h.e.l.lo to you to.

Max: Hey there, dream girl. Hey there, dream girl.

I smiled at that, but it didn't last long. He wanted to take my family out for dinner?

Me: We talked about this. Not ready. We talked about this. Not ready.

Max: I don't have to be there. Let me make reservations at a nice place. You take them. I don't have to be there. Let me make reservations at a nice place. You take them.

Me: Where is this coming from? Where is this coming from?

Max: I just want to do something nice for you. And for them. I just want to do something nice for you. And for them.

I sighed and thought about what I'd write back. It was a very generous offer, and I wasn't surprised by it, considering that's just how Max was. But I really did think he was trying to angle his way into meeting them.

Me: Why do you want to meet them so bad? Why do you want to meet them so bad?

Max: Because they're your family. But I don't have to. Just let me set this up. Because they're your family. But I don't have to. Just let me set this up.

Me: Are you sure? Are you sure?

Max: Yes, but you have to promise me one thing. Yes, but you have to promise me one thing.

Me: Oh G.o.d. Does it involve handcuffs? Oh G.o.d. Does it involve handcuffs?

Max: I hadn't thought of that, but we can try. I hadn't thought of that, but we can try.

Me: Ha! Seriously. What is it? Ha! Seriously. What is it?

Max: You'll come with me to meet my mom. You'll come with me to meet my mom.

s.h.i.t. He was really pushing this. How often does a guy insist on meeting your family and you meeting his? He was clearly serious about us. It showed in his actions, but for some reason, not his words. Several times I had to hold myself back from blurting out the fact that I was in love with him but had thankfully spared myself the potential embarra.s.sment and, worse, abandonment. I was sure it would be too much for him, too soon.

But all this family meeting stuff... Maybe I just needed to let him go at his own pace. He had walls. High walls. Maybe even higher than mine. But those walls were coming down, and for the first time in a while I was giving him a peek over my barrier. He was letting me over his, too. Maybe I'd let him take the lead on the timing of all this.

I texted: We'll talk about it, but yes I'll meet her. We'll talk about it, but yes I'll meet her.

Max: Let me work on dinner and I'll get back to you. Let me work on dinner and I'll get back to you.

Me: OK. Thank you. That's so nice. OK. Thank you. That's so nice.

Max got us a reservation at Spago in Beverly Hills, a restaurant owned by the famed chef Wolfgang Puck.

Carrying out Max's offer to treat us to dinner was like something out of an espionage movie.

We texted back and forth about how to handle the bill. If the waiter said everything was taken care of, that would raise a major investigation by my parents. So Max had arranged for the manager to inform the waiter to take my card as if I were paying, but they would just put it on Max's running tab.

"We still haven't seen your apartment," Mom said at one point.

I had a mouthful of our appetizer and stopped chewing, but quickly brought my napkin up to my mouth and held up one finger. I knew they'd want to see it-why wouldn't they-but somehow had fooled myself into thinking they wouldn't remember. Right. Like parents wouldn't want to see where you're living. Especially mine. As I finished swallowing, I actually found myself surprised that it had taken them this long to begin with.

"Maybe when we leave here," I said. "I need to get home anyway. I don't have another day's worth of clothes and I might as well just stay there tonight."

I looked at Grace, who had an expression on her face like she knew something. Maybe she suspected I had a date with Max or something. If so, she was wrong.

"The prices here are outrageous," Dad said, a little too loud.

"Dad, don't worry about it. I told you, I've got this."

He shook his head, and looked down at the menu again. Thank G.o.d he didn't restart the debate we'd had in the car earlier. My parents insisted that they pay for dinner, and I said it was my treat, and it was on from there. I finally got the upper hand by explaining to them that I was on my own now, with my own money, and I was an adult who could afford to treat her family to dinner.

Okay, so the truth was that I was on my own now, and I was an adult with a hot, rich boyfriend who offered to let her look like she was doing well enough to treat her family to a nice dinner at a Beverly Hills hot-spot.

That's exactly what Max had done, and why he'd done it.

My dad didn't look happy for the entire meal. In fact, he didn't say much at all.

Mom, though, seemed to have developed a knack for surrept.i.tiously glancing around the room looking for famous people. I'd heard that Spago was a good place for celebrity spotting, but it looked like we picked the wrong night.

That is, until a large entourage entered the place and people starting looking to see who it was. Turns out it was Linda Evans, an actress who starred on one of my mom's favorite prime-time soaps, Dynasty Dynasty. I'd never seen it. It was before my time. But mom was happy to tell us all about it, and we let her go on and on because she looked so star-struck and elated. Dad told us it had ruined many a baseball game for him-my mom would insist that they switch the channel for that hour, and they only had the one TV.

"Do you think we'll see Krystal?" Grace asked.

"Doubt it. But let me see."

I got my phone out and texted her to warn her that we'd be stopping by the apartment. She texted back and said she was going to the movies with a friend. I briefly worried about whether that was true-she'd been doing well all week, getting ready for the big change-but I had my own things to handle at the moment.

"Krystal's at work again. She works so much," I said, taking a big bite of my entree.

I couldn't wait to get home and go to sleep. All the deceit was wearing me out.

ELEVEN

I was nervous leading the way up to my apartment. The way things were with Krystal, there was no telling what we might walk in to. She could be sitting there perfectly normal, having found a bit of courage to see Grace and my parents. Or she could be on the den floor, having a threesome or a full-fledged orgy for that matter.

But it appeared she wasn't there. The apartment was dark, except for the lights over the island in the kitchen, shedding enough illumination for me as I turned on the lamps in the den.

"Well, this is it." I shrugged. "Not very big, I know, but by LA standards this is huge."

My dad frowned. Mom immediately asked why we didn't have curtains on the windows and I pictured a day when I'd get a UPS package with some of her homemade curtains that were suitable only for people over sixty. Grace said she liked the place.

It was then that I noticed a flower arrangement on the coffee table. I picked it up, looked at the card, and saw that it just had a hand-drawn heart on it. Maybe someone had given them to Krystal. Or maybe it was from Max and Krystal had put them there so I wouldn't miss them. I couldn't tell, either way, without there being any handwriting.

We weren't there even five minutes before there was a knock at the door. It was two people, a guy and a girl, who said they were Krystal's friends-I'd never met them before-and they said she didn't show up for dinner and the movie was starting soon, and did I know where she was?

"No. She told me she was going out. Did you call or text her?"

The guy nodded.

The girl said, "She's not answering."

They had a look of concern on their faces that I knew was probably matched by mine.

"Everything okay?" Mom called out from the den.

"Yeah, just a sec."

I stepped outside and closed the door behind me.

"You guys know she's in kind of a bad place, right?"

"Yeah. She told us everything," the girl said. "We're not part of that same crowd."

"Okay, good. But I bet that's who she's with."