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Ginny didn’t sleep a wink that night. Tossing and turning, she felt like she burned more calories than at the gym. Giving up on sleep at six o’clock, she threw the covers aside and went downstairs to start the coffee. While she waited for the pot to fill, she pulled out her laptop and checked her work emails. Lana would expect her to check in periodically. When the coffee pot was full, Ginny settled into work mode and scrolled through her inbox. There were a few small fires she could put out remotely, which gave her a sense of accomplishment after such a crummy night’s sleep.
Of course, Ginny knew why she’d slept poorly. The reason was roughly six feet tall and clad in flannel. As it usually happens with men, Max was aging incredibly well. His wavy hair was flecked with a bit of silver, and the few wrinkles that creased his brow looked like they belonged there. It was truly unfair that Ginny spent hundreds of dollars a month to keep her hair in check and her face slathered in anti-aging creams, yet Max only had to get out of bed.
And then there was Max’s stutter. When she heard his words falter on his lips, she wanted to hug him close. Back when they were in high school, Max’s stutter was a popular target for bullies. In some ways, it was what brought them together. After a particularly cruel interaction with one of the football players, Max found a hiding place in the school’s library. Ginny was studying for her English final when they bumped into each other in the literature section.
Max reached out to steady her, his hands lingering on her forearms. “S-s-sorry,” he’d muttered, reluctantly stepping back and dropping his head. He’d worn his hair longer then, and it covered half of his face. “I n-n-need to watch where I’m g-g-going.”
Her heart broke for the quiet boy in front of her. “No worries,” Ginny had said, keeping her tone soft, like she was talking to a wounded animal. “I was about to snag that corner table, if you want a study partner.” Turning, she waved in the general direction of the quietest spot in the library. It was a favorite hangout for Ginny, and never before had she offered to share it with anyone—not even her girlfriends. Even then, she knew Max was special.
Max’s head had shot up so quickly, a tousle of dark curls fell over his left eye. Wordlessly, he swiped the hair away and nodded. Together they’d sat for an hour, not talking, just reading and enjoying the moment of peace. At the time, Ginny had been going through a rough patch at home. When she wasn’t studying or hanging out with her friends, she was desperate for a place to hide away from the world. She was also desperate for someone who didn’t want to pry into her personal life. Max had checked all those boxes—and then some.
Somehow, without ever planning it, they had met every day in the library for the rest of that school year. Whoever got to the corner table first would save the other chair. Max started bringing in little snacks to share when they’d gotten more comfortable with each other. First it was simple things like apples or a PB&J. Later it morphed into homemade snacks, like brownies or cookies.
On a particular quiet afternoon, the pair had been wrapping up their study hour when the bell rang. Max shook his head and rummaged through his bag. “I f-f-forgot to give you this,” he’d said, his gaze not quite meeting hers.
“What is it?” Ginny asked, even though she could already smell the cinnamon and vanilla.
“Ch-ch-ch-chocolate cake.”
Peeling back the foil with her fingernail, Ginny had to stop herself from inhaling the wedge of cake whole. “You made this?”
Unable to find his words, Max simply nodded. Ginny had realized over the last months that his stutter had nearly disappeared in her company, but it was back with a vengeance. He’d been worried about her reaction to his gift, and her heart melted faster than a chocolate bar on a summer’s day. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Max had said with a smile. Ginny grew to love his smiles, and his company. As she tucked the cake carefully into her bag, she’d felt his hand on her arm. “Um,” he’d muttered before clearing his throat. “If, um, you’re f-f-free this weekend, I thought we could grab dinner or something?”
It had come out as a question, but Ginny knew Max meant the invitation as anything but casual. Since they’d met, she hadn’t even glanced at another guy in school. Standing in front of her had been the sweetest man she’d ever known, and he wanted to take her out. More than that, he’d kept baking her little treats; kept asking her how she was doing. Max’s interest in her had seemed to come from a place of good, not a curiosity of what had been happening with her home life. She’d appreciated that more than he could ever know.
“I’d love to grab dinner.”
Max’s shoulders slumped with relief. “You do?”
Ginny nodded, linking her arm through his. “Why don’t you pick me up at my dad’s place Saturday night?”
Without hesitating, he’d said, “It’s a date.”
And that was the beginning of it all—the beginning of Max and Ginny.
Those were sweet memories Ginny hadn’t allowed herself to revisit in years, and now they took over her muddled brain. Young Max and Ginny felt like strangers sometimes. Although suddenly the memories felt like the present, and she didn’t know what to do with herself.
“Don’t think about him,” she chastised herself, pecking at her keyboard with a little too much gusto. She had too much work to do to fixate on her ex-husband. Even though his hair still flopped down in front of his eyes, and even though his smile still made her stomach clench.
“Who aren’t we thinking about?” Harold asked as he joined her at the kitchen table. The sight of her sleep-rumpled father brought a smile to Ginny’s face. His hair was mussed, a patch of gray standing straight up on top of his head. He looked like a retired Alfalfa. Harold wore the old blue terry cloth bathrobe she’d gotten him over ten years ago; the elbows were nearly worn through.
Ginny avoided the question. “Dad, didn’t I get you that nice robe from Saks last year?” She stood to pour him a cup of coffee. After adding a splash of cream, she slid the caffeine toward him.
Harold leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s too nice. I feel like I should be sitting in a castle wearing it.”
Ginny kissed the top of his head, smoothing down his bedhead in the process. “I’ll remember that when I go shopping for next week.” As she turned, her father stopped her by taking her hand.
“This is my Christmas gift this year. Having my Ginnybread home is all I need.” Harold slurped from his cup and grinned. He looked more content than she’d seen in ages, especially for a man about to go under the knife. “What can I make for breakfast? Eggs okay?”
Ginny closed her laptop and cleared the table. Lana and the rest of work’s little fires would have to wait. Ginny wanted to devote her attention to her dad. After a few minutes, they were settled back into their spots with steaming plates of eggs and toast. She felt herself relax as they ate and chatted about their plans for the day.
“I’m going to call the doctor this afternoon. I have a pre-surgery checklist to go over,” Harold said as he ran the last piece of his toast through a puddle of egg yolk.
Ginny nodded and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “If you don’t mind, I’ll sit in on the call. I want to make sure I don’t let you get away with anything.” She winked as he laughed.
“Are you saying I might try something?” Harold asked, his tone mocking.
Ginny nodded, knowing her father would love to sneak a candy bar or have a beer before surgery. “I’ll go shower and run to the store for some groceries. What do you need for dinner?”
Harold cleared his plate, taking a moment to respond. “I have a list on the fridge.”
Pulling the list from the magnet, she saw a particular bottle of wine she knew her father wouldn’t drink if it was the last beverage on earth. “What’s the wine for?” she asked innocently, her pulse hammering.
“It’s Max’s favorite. You know, in case he makes an appearance tonight.”
“Dad, I need you to respect my wishes here.” Ginny hated the edge in her voice, but she felt the need to lay down the law. If seeing Max on the street for five minutes had made her this crazy, she knew an evening with him would make her certifiable.
To his credit, her father looked guilty. “He’s a part of my life,” her father said softly.
“I won’t stand here and tell you I like that you’re still in touch, but I’m not totally heartless. I need to know why you’re pushing us together.” Her father had never pushed the issue like this before, not even right after she’d moved to New York. Of course he’d slipped in little Max updates on their weekly phone calls, but it had never been this direct. Maybe she got her direct marketing skills from her father?
For a moment, she feared she’d overstepped. Harold ducked his head and looked like he wanted to go to the hospital now—a routine hip replacement was likely more fun than getting the third-degree from his daughter. “I’ve been in his place,” he said simply. “I’ve lost my other half, and I know it’s brutal.” He hesitated, as if unsure how much more to say. “I know it can be lonely.”
Ginny splayed her hand over her heart, which was now doing the rumba inside her rib cage. “And I didn’t?”
Finally her father looked up. “You did, Ginnybread. But you had the benefit of leaving town. Max is still here in the thick of it, and, frankly, I didn’t want to leave him alone. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but you can’t pretend he doesn’t exist.”
Watch me, Ginny wanted to say. The look on her father’s face told her it wasn’t the time for snark. “Dad,” she said, her voice sounding too tired for this early in the day.
Harold held his hands up, his own expression dull. “I didn’t want to play this card, but I will.” Ginny flinched, as if sensing she wasn’t going to like what he had to say. “I want to see him before I go in for surgery.” He watched his daughter’s face fall and quickly amended “Which I know is ridiculous since this is routine surgery. But I’m nervous, and I want to see my people before I go to the chop shop.”
There was no use arguing, so Ginny squared her shoulders and accepted her fate. “Fine, I’ll get a bottle of wine.” Just as she reached the top of the stairs, she heard her father call out from below.
“It’s okay to let him in again. Time has a way of changing perspectives.”
Ginny didn’t respond, just walked into the bathroom and locked the door. She needed a moment alone to recover from the truth bomb her father detonated.
An hour later, Ginny roamed the aisles of the big chain grocery store outside town. Not that she was a coward or anything, but she wasn’t going near the local market. Realistically, she knew Max didn’t live there, but she wasn’t taking her chances.
When she pushed her cart into the frozen foods section, she bumped into another cart. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Ginny said. “I’m a distracted driver.” She chuckled, hoping the other woman was all right.
The woman turned, and a flash of recognition ran across her pretty face. “Ginny Meyer? Is that you?”
Ginny blinked, trying to place the woman in front of her. She stared into the green eyes and the cluster of freckles on her cheeks. “Natalie Johnson?” Ginny stepped around her cart and pulled the woman into a hug. Natalie had been one of her best friends in high school and college, but then life happened.
Natalie giggled, returning the embrace. “It’s Natalie Snyder now.” She smiled and shrugged, her blonde hair bouncing with the movement.
Ginny gaped. “You married Anthony? My dad told me he’s the mayor.”
With another shrug, Natalie nodded. “Yeah, he was elected last year. It’s still so weird to think about, you know?” She looked down at her cart, where Ginny saw a toddler strapped into the seat. The child’s eyes were the same color as Natalie’s, but the smirk on his face was definitely Anthony’s.
“Madam First Lady of Buckeye Falls.” Ginny laughed. “Who knew?” She stepped forward and cooed at the little boy, whose cheeks were as chubby and rosy as Santa Claus’s. “And who is this little darling?” She wiggled her fingers in a wave.
“His name is Otis, and I’m Madeline. What’s your name?” Ginny turned to see an adorable girl, no older than four, wearing a pink snow jacket and blonde pigtails. She was the spitting image of her mother.
Kneeling, Ginny got to eye level with Madeline and stuck out a gloved hand. “Nice to meet you, Miss Madeline, I’m Ginny. I went to school with your mom and dad.” Madeline looked back and forth between the two adults, as if shocked they ever went to school.
Natalie sighed at her daughter’s quizzical expression. “Yes, sweetheart, your mother used to be young.”
Ginny laughed and shook her head. “We’re still in our early thirties, doesn’t that count as young?”
“Not to a four-year-old. We might as well be a million years old and roamed with the dinosaurs.” Before Ginny could reply, Otis jabbered from his perch in the cart. He seemed to want some of the attention that was going around. Natalie pulled a toy from her coat pocket and handed it to Otis without breaking eye contact with Ginny. “So, what brings you back home?”
“Dad’s having hip surgery later this week, so I wanted to be here to help.”
Natalie frowned. “Right before Christmas? That’s a shame.”
Ginny shrugged. “It was the best time for my work schedule, plus at least I can keep him at home since it’s the holiday.”
Mention of Harold softened Natalie’s features, and she smiled. “He’s a sweetheart. I see him when I take the kids to the diner. He’s always at the counter chatting with Max.” When she realized what she’d said, Natalie’s hand shot to her mouth and her eyes grew. “I’m sorry, is it okay that I ...”
“Said my ex-husband’s name? Yes, he’s not Voldemort,” Ginny teased Natalie, who still wore a worried look. “Seriously, it’s fine. I know they’re friends.” Ginny was pleased with how quickly that admission slipped out—she almost believed it herself.
Now that the conversation had gone back to adult matters, both children got bored quickly. “Mom, I want to get another candy cane,” Madeline whined. She tugged on the edge of Natalie’s coat, bringing her attention to her daughter.
“In a moment, sweetheart. Mommy is talking to her friend.” Just as Natalie opened her mouth to talk to Ginny, a loud chirp came from her purse. Her face fell as she pulled out her phone. “It’s Anthony.” She sighed, turning the phone to silent and handing it to Otis, who promptly put it in his mouth.
“I’ll let you go. I promised Dad I’d be home for his doctor’s call anyway.”
Natalie stepped forward and hugged Ginny again. “It was so nice to see you. You should come to the diner next week, after Harold’s surgery. CeCe is doing a cookie decorating event, and I reserved a table. It’d be a great way to catch up.”
Ginny raised an eyebrow. “CeCe?”
“She’s the other chef at the diner, a total delight. She’s basically Max’s right hand.”
Ginny schooled her features, but she didn’t like how her body reacted to the mention of another woman being Max’s anything. Which of course was crazy because he wasn’t her husband anymore. She needed to get a grip. “Sure, that sounds like fun.”
Natalie smiled and pulled the phone from Otis’s drool-covered hands. “What’s your number? I’ll text you the details.”
Ginny rattled off her number and said goodbye to Natalie and her kiddos. As she finished going through the grocery store, her mind wandered back to Max and this mysterious CeCe. Who was she, and more importantly, why did Ginny want to see her so badly? And why had she agreed to go to the diner? Was she insane? At this rate, probably.
Ginny was so distracted that when she pushed her cart toward the exit, she brushed past a pyramid display of oranges. The cart wheel nicked the display, causing a few oranges to break free and bound toward freedom. Ginny stared at a fallen orange at her feet and couldn’t help but smile.
Could she look at another roaming citrus fruit and not think of Max? Probably not. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? She had no idea. What she did know was that it was a new memory of Max, and it made her smile. Ginny let these thoughts take over as she drove back home, where she promptly obsessed about a man who was no longer her concern.
Wasn’t it nice to be home for the holidays?
*
The diner was closed, but Max worked on things for the week ahead. He cherished this quiet time in the diner, when it was just him and the food. Sure, there were the boring administrative tasks like ordering paper towels and doing payroll, but he lived for these peaceful moments where he could dice onions to the gentle hum of the kitchen appliances.
His moment of Zen was ruined when CeCe bounded in the back door, carrying two boxes. “Where can I put these?” she asked in greeting. Her hair was shoved under a stocking cap, and her cheeks were rosy from the cold.
Max quickly moved his cutting board, giving her the corner of the counter. “Here’s fine. What is all that?” He watched CeCe plop the boxes—which had the logo of the local craft store on them—down with a grunt. He didn’t consider CeCe crafty outside the kitchen.
CeCe opened the top box and pulled out a jar of red sprinkles. “These are my cookie decorating supplies. I know it’s not until next week, but I wanted to get everything set up.” She started pulling out jars and bags of edible glitter, sprinkles, and frosting, all the colors of Christmas. “What do you think?” she asked as she held up a candy-cane-shaped cookie cutter. “Isn’t this too darn cute?”
Max agreed, his own holiday spirit growing as he watched CeCe. For a woman in her late twenties, CeCe often became childlike when the holidays came around. He’d hired her two years ago, fresh off a big job in Chicago. Between her time in culinary school and her impressive resume, Max knew he’d be a fool to pass up a chance at having her on his team. CeCe moved to Buckeye Falls to escape the city and enjoy small-town life. She’d fit in with him and the team from day one.
“So, when is this workshop again?” Max asked, going back to his chopping. He knew it was soon, but since Ginny had come back to town, he was pleased if he remembered what day it was, let alone any future happenings.
CeCe emptied the last box and surveyed her wares. “Next Tuesday. I’m hosting when we’re closed, so it won’t interfere with our normal customers.”
Max nodded. “Are you expecting a big crowd?”
CeCe beamed. “Yes. I booked a whole table for Natalie and her friends. That’s at least eight people, but the church ladies booked a table and so did the community center.”
When CeCe came up with the idea two years ago, Max hadn’t been sure what to picture. He’d thought it would be a few girlfriends gathered around a bowl of cookie dough. But when the mayor’s wife was involved, it was truly an event. While CeCe was charging to cover supplies, a portion of the funds was going to the local food bank. Who could complain about that?
“So, what are you doing here? I thought after our busy week you’d actually take a day off.”
Max laughed. “You’re one to talk. You were here baking last night when I left.”
CeCe shrugged, sorting her jars of sprinkles by color. Picking up a green jar, she shook it and listened to the rattling. “What can I say? I like my job.” She winked at her boss before delving back to her sorting.
Two hours later, Max had his prep work done for the next day and had finished his produce orders with their vendor. He shrugged on his coat when CeCe joined him by the back door. “Here.” She handed him a white cake box.
He took it and asked, “What’s this?”
CeCe rolled her eyes. “You told me to save you some chocolate mousse cake for Harold. I literally had to hide it in the back of the walk-in so Evan wouldn’t eat it.” Max didn’t move, just stared at the box like it was a ticking bomb. “What’s the matter?” CeCe asked, noticing the shift in his mood.
Max struggled with how much to say, and not because CeCe was an employee. He was still sorting through his own thoughts about seeing Ginny again, and he didn’t want to put that burden on CeCe. “It’s nothing,” he said, turning toward the door.
When his hand hit the knob, CeCe stopped him with her words. “If you’re wondering if you should see your ex tonight, I think you should.”
Without turning around, Max asked, “And why is that a good idea?”
CeCe didn’t answer right away, and that made Max nervous. If she was choosing her words, they were going to be important. “Because it might do you some good to have a little closure. I know I’m not the relationship guru. Heck, I’m probably the last person who should give advice about love.” Her laughter held no humor, and Max understood the pain in her statement.
“Yet I think I’m about to get some unsolicited advice.”
Never deterred, CeCe plowed ahead. “Harold is important to you, and he’s about to have surgery. You’ll feel better seeing him. You’ve also been in a funk since your ex arrived back in town, so seeing her can only help.”
“How do you figure that?” he scoffed.
“If you see her and it goes well, you’ll feel better about things. If you see her and it’s a disaster, then maybe you’ll feel better about the divorce.”
Max hated to admit it, but her logic made some sense. Not that he was going to give her too much credit. CeCe tended to let things go to her head.
“Thanks for the cake. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
CeCe waved and closed the door behind him. Max drove down the block to his cottage, which sat off Main Street. It was a cozy space with a surprisingly large kitchen. Back when he was house hunting after the divorce, Max knew he couldn’t live in a big space alone. The trouble was, he also couldn’t live in a place with a tiny kitchen. The cottage had been perfect as soon as he saw it, and he ended up offering over the asking price to secure his new oasis.
When he was inside, Max put the cake in the fridge and fixed himself a sandwich. He settled in front of the TV to watch a reality cooking show. Even though he spent every waking moment in a kitchen, he still found shows about food to be the ultimate way to relax. Plus, he often learned a thing or two. As he watched the sun lower in the sky, he knew he had to make a decision.
Max paced up to his bedroom, then washed his face and studied himself in the mirror. He’d let his beard grow out a bit, and his face seemed softened by the dark bristles. Idly, he wondered if Ginny liked the beard. Back when they were together, she’d said she preferred him clean-shaven. But a lot could change over the years. Max dried his face and walked to his bed, plopping down to gather his thoughts.
Of course, CeCe was right. Not seeing Harold before the surgery would be hard. While it was a routine operation, he thought of Harold as a father. If his own father was having surgery, he’d be there without a doubt. Then there was the Ginny factor. She seemed about as eager to have him for dinner as she was about getting a root canal. Could he put her through an uncomfortable interaction? He didn’t think he could.
Max decided on a compromise. He would bring over the cake, wish Harold well with his surgery, and go back home. Harold would understand, Max was certain. After all, the only person who knew Ginny’s moods as well as he did was Harold.
But that notion brought Max up short. Did he really know Ginny and her moods anymore? Was there someone in her life that was taking care of her in the city? Harold had never mentioned anyone serious, but then again Max wasn’t sure that he would. Fathers don’t usually talk about their daughters’ dating lives.
Running a hand down his face, Max centered himself before changing into a button-down shirt and jeans. He wanted to look nice, just in case. There was no point in lying and saying it was for Harold. Gathering the cake and a six-pack, Max walked out to his car and made the short drive to Harold’s house. His heart hammered in his chest the entire drive, but he kept telling himself he was doing the right thing.
When he pulled into the driveway, he saw the welcoming glow of the Christmas tree from the front window. He’d helped Harold decorate last week before Ginny arrived. Both men agreed she’d appreciate the gesture. Max hoped she did. He knew Christmas wasn’t always easy for Ginny. It was the same time of year her mother left, so celebrating the season didn’t necessarily go smoothly. While Harold seemed to sink into the holiday spirit, Ginny preferred to float around it. Sure she’d eat cookies and drink her share of eggnog, but she never volunteered to do anything overly festive.
Stepping up to the door, Max knocked twice and waited with his heart in his throat. A moment later, Harold opened the door and grinned. “Right on time, son.” He ushered Max into the living room. “I was about to open a bottle of wine.”
Max handed Harold the six-pack. “Brought your favorite IPA. I thought it would go well with the soup.”
Harold took the cake box from Max, grinning like the cat that caught the canary. “Thanks, but this is what I’ve been waiting for.”
Max laughed, knowing full well he couldn’t compete with CeCe and her baking skills. “CeCe had to hide that from Evan. The kid has a bigger sweet tooth than you, if you can believe it.”
“I can. I’ve seen that kid eat. He must have a hollow leg.” Harold shuffled into the kitchen, Max following close behind him.
As he stepped into the cozy space, he saw a sight that caused his heart to drop to his shoes. Ginny stood at the sink, washing a bowl and humming to herself. She wore an old apron he’d seen Harold wear a thousand times, but it suited her at the moment. Her hair had fallen over her eyes, so only the curve of her jaw was visible. It was the loveliest sight Max had seen in ages.
“Now, you know me,” Harold said, walking to the fridge. “If this cake doesn’t go into a hiding place now, we’ll have it instead of dinner.”
Ginny turned around to see who Harold was talking to. She faltered when she saw Max. “Oh, hi,” she breathed, studying Max for a second before averting her gaze.
It wasn’t the reaction he wanted, but Max wasn’t surprised. “I was dropping off a few things. CeCe would kill me if Harold didn’t get her cake.” The mention of CeCe made Ginny wince, but he had no idea why.
“That woman does amazing things with eggs, butter, and sugar.” Harold patted his belly. “I think she’s responsible for at least ten of these pounds.” He laughed at his own joke before turning and retrieving a bottle of wine from the counter. “Sit, let me get you a glass.”
Max stepped back and raised his hands like he was being robbed. “N-no. That’s fine. I wanted to drop those off.” He lowered his hands and gestured toward the fridge.
Harold shook his head. “You are staying for dinner. I need a real chef to tell me how I did with this soup.”
Max looked at the table, noticing it had been set for three people. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend this was a few years ago and everything was normal. This was a normal family dinner, with the family that really mattered to him.
If they were back in time, he could walk to the sink and wrap his arms around Ginny, lean into her, and smell the skin at the nape of her neck. God, he missed those rights. The rights of a husband. At this moment, he would give his favorite spatula collection for one hour in the past. Swallowing the growing lump in his throat, Max said, “I d-d-don’t want to impose.”
Ginny surprised everyone by taking the wine from Harold and pouring a glass. She stepped forward and handed it to Max, her hand shaking slightly. A peace offering.
“Stay for dinner.” It was an order, not a question.
Max might have been lying to himself, but he could have sworn the corner of her lip tipped up in a smile. Whether it was a trick of his eyes, her words seemed genuine. He took the wine and sipped, eager for something else to focus on. “Thanks.”
Harold took Max’s coat and patted him on the back. “Take a seat, son. Dinner’s ready.”
And with that, Max eased himself into his usual chair. He watched the love of his life serve bowls of soup and sit across from him in the warm kitchen. The air around him smelled like home, with garlic from the soup and a hint of mint from Ginny’s shampoo. There was something comforting about knowing she used the same stuff even now. That meant there was a small part of her that was the same. Max took that kernel of truth and held it close to his chest. It might be foolish, but Max was allowing himself to hope that Ginny could be back in his life. A guy can dream, right? Maybe he’d get a Christmas miracle.