Chapter 2
Max stood, grabbed the bowls, and shook his head. “No worries, course not. Why would you.”
Luke was flabbergasted. Max always seemed so strong, so confident…manly and self-contained. Unobtainable. The typical strong silent type. Luke followed him into the kitchen where Max was clattering about, loading the dishwasher and wiping the counter top as though it were a matter of life and death that it be cleaned. He wrung out the cloth, folded it, and laid it by the sink. Luke carried on following when Max went and grabbed the pillow from the sofa, ran upstairs with it, came back, and straightened all the cushions in the front room.
“Well,” he said looking around for anything else that dared to be out of place. “Good luck for Saturday. Hope you manage to cop off with him. Sorry abou
