In all honesty, Max didn't really want to have this talk with Kris. Actually, it was more than that not really wanting to have this talk, he just flat out didn't want to have it at all. Things had been going well- really well, actually, and he'd been happier than he'd been in literal years.
But then, him being him, he'd done it again. It could be broadly defined- running his mouth, picking a fight, generally writing a check to life that his ass couldn't cash. He always did that somehow.
Max didn't think jumping Hangman because his wife was a bitch was that big a deal, but apparently everyone else and their mother disagreed. Honey was mad, which meant that Ricky was probably mad, and now Michael and Anthony were mad. And the cherry on top was some fat clown freak threatening to come after them all.
And he couldn't forget, of course, his entanglement with three women- including his ex girlfriend- that he definitely didn't have any feelings for. Especially not Kris. He'd had everything sorted out between them, they'd talked and decided they were just chilling, just friends, seeing where things were going.
But then his dumb ass had given her a ring without really thinking about it, and she'd said... well, Bowens thought they were something to worry about, and Max trusted his judgment absolutely. He'd talked to Bobby and Bryce and they'd expressed similar- although far more crude- sentiments.
If Max was being honest with himself, he was fully expecting Kris to hate him again by the end of all this.
Despite his misgivings and his natural instinct to just totally avoid this subject and let it turn out however it would, Max found himself waiting for Kris backstage after her match, one sneakered foot flat against the wall, flicking through his phone in a vague attempt to keep his mind busy.
He probably still had time to flee, if he really wanted to.
@aliensdoitbetter
