To anyone else, Micah would appear annoyed, angry even. Almost thirty years as best friends taught you a lot about a person’s tells. Max knew he wasn’t angry. He was afraid.
“You know why…”
“I don’t bloody know why! Bringing her here could ruin everything.” He turned and stared at the skyline of Manhattan. “Knowing about our lifestyle on paper isn’t the same thing.”
“Here.” Max handed him a glass of bourbon. “Drink and let’s talk it through. Best case scenarios, worst case scenarios. We don’t do it unless we’re on the same page.”
Taking the glass, he shook his head. “Like I don’t know you.”
Max grinned. “I’ll attempt to talk you ‘round to my way of thinking.” He set several plates of food on the counter. “Eat. You think better when you eat.”