“I’m sorry, Aunt Jules,” Levy says, the tears immediately welling up in his eyes.

I start walking their way and then pick up the pace when she tells him furiously, “I’m so tired of you not listening to me. Just sick and tired of it.”

She says this last part as she releases his arm and practically snarls at him, “Come on. We’re going home. If you can’t behave, you don’t deserve to play out here.”

“Whoa,” I say softly as I reach her, my hand going to her lower back. I note Zack and Kate watching with worried eyes, and they start to come down the hill now that they heard Jules proclaim they were leaving. I drop my voice lower and lean in toward Jules’ ear. “Babe . . . let’s just calm down.”

She spins on me, Levy forgotten. “Don’t tell me to calm down, Max. I don’t need your patronization.”

“Hey,” I say softly, my hand coming to her cheek. “I’m not patronizing you. I’m sorry. If you want to go, we’ll go.”

Jules doesn’t meet my gaze but her eyes take in Levy crying, Zack and Kate hovering nearby, and a few other parents in the area watching carefully.

Finally, her eyes lift to mine and it’s a gut punch when I see the self-loathing in them burning through the layer of tears that are welling up. She whispers to me with a husky voice on the verge of a meltdown. A small voice. “Can you take me home?”

I nod and turn to Kate. “Mind taking the kids for the rest of the day? I’ll come pick them up a little later.”

Kate nods, holds her arms out silently, telling the kids to gather near her. “Come on, kiddos . . . why don’t we go get some hot chocolate.”

They all walk toward Kate as Jules stares blankly at my chest. I reach down to take her hand, but she suddenly spins from me, rushes over to Levy and drops down before him on her knees. She wraps her arms around him and pulls him into a hug, squeezing him hard and whispering fiercely, “I’m sorry I yelled at you. You just scared me and it made me angry but I shouldn’t have done that.”

When she pulls back, Levy smiles at her and then throws his arms around her neck for another hug. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have jumped.”

She nods her understanding and then releases him. She gives Rocco and Annabelle hugs too and a murmur of thanks to Kate and Zack before turning back to me.

“Come on.” I hold my hand out to her. “Let me take you to lunch. We’ll relax, maybe have a few beers and talk.”

She takes my hand but she shakes her head. “I don’t want to go out. Just to my place.”

Her voice is still so small but it’s also firm.

While I’d rather not have her go to the apartment to sulk, I’m also not going to argue with her either. I have a sinking feeling that things are definitely off between us, so I need to give her the room to air those things as she sees fit.

The ride back to Jules’ apartment was silent and tense. I had no clue how to go about effectuating conversation. Had no clue if she was receptive to it.

Ultimately, I decided to hold my tongue until we got to her place, because I suspected that my attention should be on her fully and not on the road as I was driving.

When we walk in, she immediately walks to the refrigerator. “Want something to drink?”

“I’m good,” I tell her and watch as she opens the door, stares for a few moments at the inside, and then closes it with a sigh, not taking anything out.

When she turns to me, her face is worried. “I was awful to Levy.”

“You were a mother to Levy,” I correct as I walk to the couch and sit down. I pat the cushion beside me and she trudges my way, shoulders slumped.

When she sits down, I note it’s not right beside me but rather she leaves about a foot in between. I let it go and turn to face her. “What’s going on, Jules? And don’t hand me that ‘nothing’s wrong’ shit you’ve been handing me since I got back from Chicago.”

She stares down at her lap a moment, and I think she may indeed tell me nothing’s wrong, but then she murmurs, “I don’t want to go to that charity gala next weekend.”

“What?” I ask, completely taken aback. Of all the things I thought might be bothering her, this wasn’t at the top of my imaginative list.

Jules angles her head and brings her eyes to mine. “I don’t want to go to the gala,” she repeats.

“Okay,” I respond slowly, sensing that this is just a front for what’s really going on. “Want to tell me why?”

“It’s just . . . overwhelming to me.”

“I’ll be by your side the entire time,” I provide, hoping to not necessarily coax her into going, but rather trying to get to the root of the true issue.

“I know,” she says with a frustrated huff. “I just . . . I don’t like being on display like that.”

“On display?” I ask, confused. No clue what she’s talking about. “You wouldn’t be.”

Her eyes harden somewhat and she says, “Let me be clearer then. I don’t like people looking at me with you and second-guessing my motives to be there by your side.”

And understanding hits me. “Is this because of what Luc said at Thanksgiving? Because I thought we were past that.”

It’s true. We haven’t talked about that since, just as we’ve had no further conversation about her moving in with me, despite the fact I’ve brought it up twice and only got an “I’m still thinking about it” from her.

“It’s not that,” she mutters, her gaze dropping again.

My hand goes to her jaw and I make her look up at me. I lean in closer and urge her, “Then tell me what it is.”

I’m stunned when Jules jerks her face away from me and shoots up off the couch, only to spin back around and face me with her arms outstretched in a plea for understanding.

“It’s everything, Max,” she says desperately. “You’re rich and I’m poor. Women slipping you their phone numbers and bikini models at fancy photo shoots for hot bachelor competitions. It’s people judging me . . . writing terrible things about me that I can’t defend. It’s your teammates’ wives and girlfriends who don’t even have the grace to whisper behind my back that I can’t afford designer clothes but instead snidely tell it to my face. It’s about being out in fucking public and having your fans accost me, telling me I’m not good enough for you and calling me a fucking gold digger to my face.”