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Ginny changed her outfit for the third time in five minutes. She suddenly had nothing to wear. She heard her father downstairs on the phone. Since she met Mona, her father didn’t see the point in pretending the woman wasn’t an important part of his life. Ginny could not begrudge him that, especially after everything that happened with her mother.
“We’re not going there now,” Ginny chastised herself while she pulled on her fourth sweater and shrugged at her reflection in the mirror. “This will have to do.” She sighed. She was trying to look effortlessly put together, not like she was trying too hard.
Ginny wasn’t sure what had happened between her and Max at the diner, but she was putting it way back in her mind. Like buried behind thirty-two years of life buried. Like the last scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark buried.
There was no point thinking about it. They were exes, and they shared years of history, of baggage. It only made sense that they’d touched and comforted each other. And even if that waiter hadn’t interrupted, Ginny was sure nothing would have happened. Yeah, right.
What she was afraid to even consider admitting how close she’d been to kissing Max. He was right there, all sweet and supportive. And she’d be the world’s biggest liar if she denied how good he looked in his apron. That damn piece of white cotton made him look good enough to eat; good enough to savor.
“Ginnybread, it’s almost dinnertime!” Harold bellowed from the base of the steps.
Ginny grabbed her purse and headed downstairs. When she reached for the railing, her steps faltered. Now she heard two voices, and one of them was definitely not Mona. The tightness in Ginny’s belly was all the warning she needed to know that Max was already here. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, her father stepped toward her and gave her a pat on the cheek. “I thought we’d eat with the game tonight. Cleveland’s up by ten going into the last quarter.”
Surveying the living room, Ginny saw her father had the TV stands set up and the basketball game on. “Sure, let me go get dinner. Have a seat.” As Ginny spun on her heels, she walked right into a wall. The wall smelled like pine and was covered in a cable-knit sweater the color of undecorated Christmas trees.
“Max, I didn’t see you there,” she offered lamely, enjoying the feel of his hands on her arms as he steadied her. She knew she should move, but her feet were cemented in place.
Psyching herself up, Ginny let her gaze roam all the way from Max’s broad chest to the beard that was starting to fill out. His caramel eyes sparkled down at her. “It’s good to see you again, Gin.”
Gin, her nickname sounded like a song on his lips. Lips she shouldn’t be thinking about. Was it suddenly hot in the living room? Ginny reluctantly stepped back, breaking Max’s hold on her. She pulled at the neck of her sweater and headed toward the kitchen. She needed a glass of ice water and a moment alone. If she and Max were going to be working together, she needed to get used to being around him again. Acting like a schoolgirl in his presence would get really old, really fast.
The heavenly aroma of melted cheese and spices wafted toward Ginny when she walked to the stove. The kitchen was spotless, and there was a covered dish resting on a trivet. “I made enchiladas,” Max said as he joined her. He opened the fridge and grabbed three bottles of water and a jar of salsa. “I hope you still like them. Harold loves them, so I thought it would be fun.”
Ginny lifted the foil on the pan and groaned. “Three cheese enchiladas with avocado crema, oh my goodness.” Over her shoulder, she winked at Max. “It’s a shame you didn’t bring enough for everyone else.”
Max chuckled. “I’ll get this plated up. You join Harold.” Ginny reached out and took her water bottle, their fingers grazing. The awareness that zinged through her caused her skin to flush. If she stood with him in this kitchen much longer, her face would match her crimson sweater.
“Thanks,” she muttered, backing away from him. Ginny’s mouth was watering for more reasons than one as she watched Max plate their dinners. It was a familiar sight that shouldn’t curl her toes, but here she was acting like a fool. When she joined her father, she chugged half her water in an attempt to cool off.
“Oh, c’mon, guys!” her father shouted as his team missed a free throw. “I’m telling you, you’d think these guys don’t have any athletic ability.” Shaking his head, he took the proffered water bottle and sighed. “Even I could have sunk that shot, and I’m old and about to have hip surgery. These guys can’t even dribble.”
At the mention of dribbling, Ginny nearly poured her water onto her lap at the sight of Max entering the cramped room. He came in with three plates balanced in his hands, his gaze intent on not dropping them. His face was slightly scrunched in concentration, and Ginny couldn’t deny how adorable he looked. He was still the quiet boy she’d met in the library.
“We’re still in early season. Give them time to find their new rhythm.” Max placed their plates in front of them before settling into his spot next to Ginny.
Ginny felt like she was sitting in a time capsule. This was what their weekly dinners at the house were like—basketball on TV, the men talking sports, and Ginny simply enjoying being with her two favorite people. The differences were minute, and only a trained eye could spot them. Instead of sharing a TV stand, she and Max were about a foot apart. When the meal was over, they wouldn’t be washing the dishes together and stealing kisses. Most importantly, they wouldn’t be leaving together and going home together.
For all the differences, there was one similarity that caused Ginny’s eyes to mist. “You gave me the corner piece,” she whispered, looking down at her plate. She’d always loved the edge pieces of anything from the oven, but especially Max’s enchiladas. The tortillas were nearly burnt, the edges curling into the red sauce.
Max looked at her and gave her a look she couldn’t decipher. It seemed sad but also hopeful. “I’ll never forget what you like, Gin. Especially when it’s one of your favorite foods.” Not knowing what to say, Ginny took another swig from her water bottle, cursing her decision to wear such a warm sweater.
Beside them, Harold watched and smiled. Ginny nearly said something, not wanting to break her father’s heart when she left again and things went back to normal. Normal, a notion that suddenly seemed so foreign. She’d only been back in Buckeye Falls for a few days, but she was feeling like New York was lightyears away.
Her father’s question broke her revelry. “Is the mayor going to be at your planning meeting tonight?”
Max smirked. “Oh yeah. I’m sure he wouldn’t miss the chance to take charge of something he has no business being involved in. The good thing is I can return his suit.”
Harold barked with laughter, nearly choking on his enchiladas. “Did you take it to Greens?” he asked while he blotted sauce from his face.
Max laughed and nodded. “Oh yeah. CeCe had them add so much starch he won’t be able to move his legs for fear the fabric will snap in half.” Harold kept laughing as Max wiped a tear from his eye.
Clearly she was missing an inside joke. “What did I miss?”
“Our favorite mayor threw his power around when no one asked for it. One of my waiters spilled iced tea on him this week, and we’re obliging his request for free dry cleaning.”
Ginny scraped the last bite from her plate and settled back into the couch, enjoying the feeling of a full belly. “I bumped into Natalie at the grocery store the other day. I didn’t realize they had married.”
Max’s face turned serious. “How did she look?”
Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Uh, fine I guess. I met her kids too. They seem sweet.”
“We’re worried about her,” her father said, muting the TV during a commercial break.
This was news to Ginny. “You are?”
Max nodded. “Yeah. Ever since Anthony got elected, he’s not quite himself. I mean, obviously things are different since high school. But there’s something different about him. It’s like all he cares about is how everything looks.”
“He thinks he’s JFK and she’s Jackie. I hate seeing it, but at least it should hurt his chances for re-election in the spring. Everyone in town is fed up with his attitude, if nothing else.” Her father grimaced and turned the TV volume back up. “That guy needs a reality check.”
Max rolled his eyes. “He needs a firm kick on his backside.”
Ginny decided to break the tension. “Natalie invited me to the diner, actually. She said she booked a table for a cookie decorating party?”
Max grinned. “Yes. CeCe decided to add some holiday activities to the diner during Jubilee week. We already sold out, so it’s good you got a spot.”
Ginny nodded but felt herself deflate. “CeCe sure sounds like a miracle worker,” she said under her breath.
Her father chimed in immediately. “That girl is a lifesaver. Best damn baker this town has ever seen, and what a sweetheart.”
Max sputtered with laughter. “Sweetheart? If I told CeCe you said that, she’d spit in your lemon meringue pie.”
Harold’s chest shook with laughter. “She would, wouldn’t she? Oh, well, it’d probably still be incredible. When you snatched her up, this town got a lot sweeter. You’re a lucky man,” her father concluded.
Ginny had to bite her lip to keep from frowning. “I’ll get this cleaned up. We should probably go.” She stood up too fast and her empty water bottle tipped onto the floor. Max stood and chased it around. He followed her into the kitchen a moment later and loaded the dishwasher.
“Are you okay?” he asked, hanging up the dish towel.
Ginny nodded and smiled. “Fine,” she lied. “Let me grab my purse—we don’t want to be late.” She walked over to her father and kissed his cheek. “See you after the meeting.”
“Take your time,” he ordered, waving goodbye to Max from his post by the door. “No curfew, you kids have a good night.”
Max saluted. “Yes, sir.”
Ginny burst through the door, nearly slipping on a patch of ice on the porch. Max was right there, reaching out again to steady her. This time, he let go as soon as she was on her feet. The lack of his touch made her feel naked, and not in a good way.
Gesturing to his car, Max said, “I’ll drive.” Ginny slid into the passenger’s seat. It was the same old car from their marriage. It struck Ginny then how certain relics from the past are forgotten. Not having been in this car for years, now she was bombarded with random memories. Mundane trips to the grocery store, or their road trip down to Florida to visit Max’s parents—the memories washed over her in a wave.
“The car’s still looking good,” she mused, running her hand over the dashboard. Like his kitchen, Max always kept the car spotless.
“It’s easy when I don’t drive too much. I walk to work most days, and I haven’t left Buckeye Falls in months. And when I do, CeCe usually drives.” He was silent for the rest of the drive, allowing Ginny to stew in her own frustrations.
Suddenly, she was beyond jealous of the other woman in Max’s life. She didn’t know what it meant, but she knew it was crippling her. Though sitting with him on the way to a town meeting was not the time to unpack her jumbled thoughts. Ginny would save it for when she was back at the house with a full glass of wine.
*
Max gripped the steering wheel so hard he thought it would crack under his fingers. Having Ginny this close was torture of the highest order. At least when they were at Harold’s house, he had enough distractions. But sitting here, sharing the same air and listening to Christmas carols, was too much. Eartha Kit needed to do a better job distracting him.
His mind was a jumble of questions for Ginny. What was she thinking? Did she remember the last time they were in the car together? Does she realize he still kept her hair ties in the glove box, just in case? But Max kept his mouth shut. It wasn’t that he thought he’d stutter. It was the opposite; he feared he’d never be able to stop talking. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself from begging her for more time, for more of anything.
Fortunately for his sanity, the community center was only a ten-minute drive. He parked his car next to a familiar BMW. Either the mayor or Natalie was in attendance. Max said a silent prayer it was the latter and climbed from the car. Sprinting, he rushed to open Ginny’s passenger door.
“Thanks,” she said as she stretched next to him. He got a whiff of her perfume and had to stifle a groan. He was acting like a horny teenager, and he hated it. Ginny took the lead and walked up the snowy path.
As soon as she opened the door, they were accosted by half of the town’s gossips. “My stars, it’s Ginny and Max Sanchez,” Mrs. Sanders proclaimed from her spot at the snack table. A woman in her late seventies, she was known for her peanut butter cookies, her poor memory, and her sharp tongue. She lived for gossip, and her hungry eyes made Max squirm.
Beside him, Max felt Ginny bristle, but she didn’t correct the old woman on her name change. Max was grateful for that, as he hardly needed a reminder. “Mrs. Sanders, you’re looking lovely,” Ginny crooned as she walked over to hug the woman. “Why, you haven’t changed a bit.”
Mrs. Sanders waved off the compliment. “Oh please, you’re one to talk. You look as young and fit as ever.” Holding up Ginny’s arms, she stepped back to appraise her. Max didn’t know how Ginny wasn’t rolling her eyes, but she kept smiling. “I can tell you aren’t eating your ex-husband’s cooking anymore. You’re too skinny.” To remedy the situation, Mrs. Sanders handed Ginny a fistful of cookies. “Here.”
Ginny took them and laughed. “I already had dinner, but I’ll snack on these later.”
Mrs. Sanders seemed satisfied and turned her attention to Max. “So, what are you planning on doing to keep your ex-wife in town?” she asked, crossing her arms over her ample bosom. Her gaze assessed him behind her smudged glasses.
Max felt his cheeks bloom crimson, but he wasn’t rising to the bait. “I think I see a couple seats over there.” He gestured with one hand and guided Ginny by the small of her back with his other. His fingers flexed at the feel of her beneath his touch. Max’s senses were in overdrive. After years of a Ginny drought, he was suddenly drowning around her. Judging from her carefree demeanor, he was the only one affected by their closeness.
Ginny slid into her seat and took off her coat. The stack of cookies sat on her knees, wobbling with the movement. “You have to eat at least two of these,” she whispered. “Between your meals and Dad’s farmhouse breakfasts, my pants barely fit.”
Before he could stop himself, Max said the first thing on his mind, “You look great to me, Gin.” Ginny’s head shot up and her eyes grew. “Sorry, I mean.” Max held up his hands as if to ward off her wrath. Just as he was back peddling, he shook his head. “No, actually, I’m not sorry. You look wonderful. I hate when you beat yourself up over a few pounds.”
Ginny’s face softened and she smiled. “You always say the nicest things, Max,” she said.
Max chuckled. “Clearly not always, but thanks for taking the compliment.” He reached over and snatched two cookies from her lap, popping one in his mouth, whole.
Because timing was everything, Natalie chose that exact moment to squeal and run over to Ginny. “You’re here! I heard Mona hooked you into the Jubilee planning, but I’m so glad you’re here.” Max felt himself relax when he saw how happy Natalie looked. Glancing around the room confirmed her overbearing husband was nowhere in sight.
“Natalie, hey!” Ginny exclaimed while hugging her with one arm. Her cookies were clutched in her free hand, crumbs falling to the floor. “You want to join us?” she asked, pointing to the open seat on the other side of Max.
Natalie nodded, lifting her enormous purse over her head while she shimmied past Ginny. Max didn’t want to give up his spot next to Ginny, but he knew the two friends would want to talk. “I’ll slide over here,” he offered.
“I wouldn’t hear of it,” Natalie said. She stopped walking and waited for Ginny to move over next to Max. At that moment, Natalie was Max’s favorite person. Judging from the expression she wore, she read his mind. Once Ginny was up next to him, their knees knocking in the cramped row, Natalie winked at him. “Nice and cozy,” she mused, plopping her purse onto the floor and landing on a pile of cookie crumbs.
Ginny looked over at Max and shrugged. “Nice and cozy.”
Muscle memory took over, and before Max could stop himself, he’d draped his arm around the back of Ginny’s chair and leaned toward her. It was an action he’d done countless times over the years, so he hadn’t thought about what it would look like or mean.
“All right, Buckeyes,” Mona greeted from a tiny podium at the front of the room. She wore one of the ugliest Christmas sweaters Max had ever seen, blood red with a sequined Rudolph on the front. When he stared at it too long, it made his eyes water. “Let’s call the meeting to order.” Mona banged her fist on the podium, causing it to wobble.
A hush fell over the room as Mona got the group’s attention. From behind him, Max heard Mrs. Sanders mumble something to the women in her party, but he couldn’t make out what she said.
“We have an hour before the cleaning crew arrives, so I’ll be brief,” Mona said, looking down at a stack of papers perched on the podium.
“That’ll be a first,” muttered someone in the crowd.
Mona’s head snapped up and she sighed. “Yes, Lucy. I’ll try to keep it short this month.” The room tittered as Lucy Jones was put in her place. Max felt bad for the older woman, as she wasn’t the only townie that hated long meetings. There had been more than one occasion when Max had to sit on his hands so he didn’t fidget and play with his phone.
For the first ten minutes, Mona went over the recap of their last meeting when they assigned who was doing what for the Jubilee festivities. Max tuned most of it out, since his job was pretty simple. Bring food, that was that. What had captured his attention now was the heat radiating off Ginny. She’d settled into the crook of his arm like it was nothing. When he knew she wasn’t looking, Max would study her face, counting the lines of freckles from her cheeks to her jaw.
“If you keep staring at me, I’m going to think I have enchilada sauce on my face,” she said between clenched teeth. “What’s wrong?”
As if he was burned, Max pulled back and put his hands in his lap. “S-s-sorry. I guess I z-zoned out.” Fidgeting, Max studied the floor until he was certain his brain had caught up with his mouth.
Ginny reached out and put her hand on his and squeezed hard. “Shh, don’t worry. I’m only teasing you.” Her smile was warm, and it reminded Max of the first time they met at school.
It had been a similar situation, Max staring at her in wonder as he settled into his first week at school. His father had been in the Army, so Max never stayed in one place for very long. By the time high school started, his parents were ready to stay put. They’d settled on Buckeye Falls and never looked back. Well, Max never looked back. As soon as they retired, his parents moved to the sunny shores of the Gulf Coast.
Moving to Buckeye Falls for Max meant finding a permanent home. He adored the small town and all its quirks. That first week in school, kids had either ignored him or made fun of his stutter. After fumbling over his words in algebra, Max had decided it was better to be quiet and appear stupid than embarrass himself further. With his head in a book in the library, Max tried to blend into the walls.
“You know, I read that last semester for Mrs. Bricker’s class. I probably still have my notes if you want them.” Ginny had pulled out a chair and sat across from him like it was the most natural thing to do. “She’s famous for asking about parallels to Greek mythology, so you’ll want to be ready for that.”
She’d met his gaze and her eyes lit up as she smiled at him. Max had never been so drawn to a woman in his life, and he’d felt intensely awkward and nervous. Licking his lips, he’d sounded out the words in his mind, hoping his body would catch up. “Th-thanks. That’s nice of you.” Striving to look casual, Max shrugged and smiled back.
Ginny reached across the table, her hand open toward him. “I’m Ginny, by the way. Welcome to Buckeye Falls.”
Max took her hand, savoring the soft feel of her skin. “Max,” had been all he could handle. Their skin touching had short-circuited his already muddled brain.
“Nice to meet you, Max. Mind if I study with you this hour? I need to prep for my chemistry exam.”
Max shook his head and looked back down at his novel, which had been long forgotten. When the bell rang an hour later, he’d assumed he’d never see Ginny again. She’d done her good deed with the new kid and would evaporate into the ether. Fortunately for Max, he’d misjudged her kindness. They met up again a week later in the library, starting a routine he was all too happy to follow. They’d sit together every day, and the fact that she’d save him a seat melted his heart. It had proved to Max that there was sweetness in the world, and in Buckeye Falls her name was Ginny.
“A group of us are going to the new drive-in movie theater this weekend. Do you want to join us? You could meet some more people.”
Despite the fact it was a group outing, Max had felt like he’d won the lottery. He nodded several times, willing his tongue to cooperate. “Yeah, that s-s—” He hesitated as the letters faltered on his lips. “Sounds nice,” he’d finished with more effort than he wanted to admit.
Ginny pulled a sheet of paper from her notebook and jotted down her phone number. “Awesome. This is my number. Give me a call tonight, and I’ll give you the details.” She’d tucked the paper into the front pocket of his jacket and smiled. “If my dad answers, don’t worry about him. He’s a teddy bear.” She spun on her heels and started back down the hall. Over her shoulder, she’d said, “Just be yourself, Max.”
Max never forgot her kindness, and he fell in love with Ginny that afternoon. It took him months to get the courage to ask her out on a proper date, because he was too nervous. Yes, she was gorgeous, with a head of wild wavy hair and a smattering of freckles, but her heart made her special. It was the same heart that was beating next to him now, giving him the same patient looks she had all those years ago.
Natalie stood, shaking Max back to the present. “I just have a few things to add on behalf of the mayor,” she said, a smile plastered to her face. Natalie scooted out of the row and headed toward the podium. While Mona’s outfit was a holiday horror show, Natalie was dressed like a First Lady in a fitted skirt and blouse. “On behalf of my husband, thank you all for your help in getting this year’s Jubilee together.”
Ginny leaned close and whispered, “You know, it looks like Natalie should be the one running the town. She’s really good.” Max had to fight the shiver that raced up his spine at the feel of Ginny’s breath on his ear. Unable to slow his heart rate, he leaned back and tried thinking about baseball or all of the invoices he had to pay. Anything to get out of his head and stop drooling over Ginny.
“Any questions?” Natalie asked from the podium, her megawatt smile lighting up half the community center. Max blinked, realizing he’d missed half her presentation.
A woman in the back raised her hand. Max recognized her from the diner, chicken salad with extra grapes. “What about marketing? Last year’s Jubilee attendance dipped for the first time in ten years. How are we going to make a profit if no one knows what we’re doing?”
Before Natalie could answer, Mona jumped back up to the podium and waved. “I can answer that question, Agnes. We have our very own marketing guru here to help, Ginny Sanchez.” Gesturing toward Ginny, Mona looked as proud as a peacock. “Of course, we have Ginny’s skills Sonny Bono,” she declared.
Ginny bit her lip to keep from laughing. “I think she means pro bono,” she said under her breath. Max felt a ripple of laughter escape him, which he tried to cover with a cough.
“Sonny Bono’s dead,” Agnes lamented from the back row. “I hope we have better entertainment than a dead man.”
Mrs. Sanders interjected with her own thoughts on the late crooner. “He wouldn’t be worth the expense if Cher wasn’t with him.”
Ginny cleared her throat, standing to address the room. “Good evening,” she said in what Max assumed was her business voice. It was a matter-of-fact tone that cut to the far corners of the crowded space. Everyone stopped talking, their attention entirely on her. “I’m Ginny Meyer,” she carefully corrected, “and as Mona said, I’ll be helping with the marketing.”
Agnes, finally understanding no one was coming back from the dead, raised her hand. “I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth, but what’s your experience?”
Before Ginny could rattle off her credentials, Mona interjected. “Agnes, this is Harold’s daughter. You remember.”
Agnes slapped her hand to her forehead and guffawed. “Of course, Max’s ex-wife.” Despite the fact that Max didn’t mind the reference, he knew it bothered Ginny.
Getting to his feet, he jumped to Ginny’s defense. “Well, Ginny is her own woman and an absolute dynamo. And I can say with the utmost confidence that we’ll have the best Jubilee in years with her at the helm.” A small round of applause filtered around them as everyone drew their attention back to Mona.
“I share in Max’s confidence about Ginny’s skills. We will send an update on the marketing plan in the weekend’s e-newsletter. Until then, please enjoy some cookies and refreshments. Good night, everyone.” Mona waved and gathered her papers.
From Natalie’s chair next to Ginny, Natalie grasped her arm. “I’m so glad you’re here. I know it’s exactly what we need to breathe new life into our marketing. The days of hanging up fliers at the grocery store are over; we need to do social media, email blasts, the whole nine yards.” Leaning over to Max, Natalie continued. “And when you have a minute, let’s talk about the menu.”
Max nodded. “You know where to find me.”
Natalie’s phone chimed, and she retrieved it from her bag. “It’s Anthony. The kids are ready for bath time. I should go.” She stood, hoisting her purse up on her shoulder. “How about I swing by the diner tomorrow before the lunch rush, does that work for both of you? I can kill two birds with one stone.”
Without thinking to ask Ginny, Max agreed and asked Natalie to stop by at 11:30. “That should give me time to get the menu draft from CeCe. We’ll see you then.”
Natalie placed a manicured hand over her heart and sighed. “That girl is a freaking miracle worker. Don’t ever let her go.”
Max grinned. “I don’t intend to.”
Giving a final wave, Natalie disappeared into the crowd. Max looked at Ginny and saw her face had fallen. “Oh geez, I’m such an idiot. I didn’t ask if you’d be free tomorrow. I know there’s a lot going on with Harold’s surgery prep, and I just ...”
Ginny leaned down and scooped up her purse. “Where’s the exit?” she asked, not bothering to look up and make eye contact. Max gestured toward the rear of the room, where fortunately no one was standing. Ginny didn’t wait to see if he would follow. She tucked her coat under her arm and plowed ahead.
When they reached the parking lot, Max took in a gulp of cold air. The community center had gotten stuffy, and being so close to Ginny had brought his temperature up a few degrees. Ginny’s eyes flashed with fire. “Why didn’t you correct people? You’re going to make it that much harder for me to leave. And don’t you dare set my schedule. You’re not my boss.” She whirled her arms about, slicing the air into cross sections. An angry blush colored her cheeks, and her chin wobbled from holding in tears. “You don’t know what it’s like, Max. You don’t.”
Max stepped forward, unable to hold back his own mounting frustrations. “I don’t know, Gin, because you n-never tell me.” His voice was hoarse, but he kept the tone low, willing his mouth to cooperate. “You l-l-left—you didn’t say a word. I don’t know how to act around you when you’ve been a g-ghost for the last two years.” He raised his hand, waggling two fingers to punctuate his point. He prayed to any god or deity that existed that she had missed his last stammer. It was bad enough sounding tongue-tied, but Max certainly didn’t want to sound like a character on Scooby-Doo.
Ginny stomped forward three paces and jabbed Max in the chest with her index finger. “I’ve been a ghost these last two years? That’s rich. What about you? Huh, Max? I don’t recall seeing your face or hearing your voice. Two can play the ignoring game, you know.” Crossing her arms over her chest, Ginny let out a tired breath, her speech having exhausted her.
Max ran a hand through his hair and chewed on his bottom lip. Everything Ginny said was news to him. The notion that she expected him to find her, to reach out to her, was such a shock he almost laughed. Not only had Max driven up to New York, he’d picked up the phone so often it was comical. Every time something bad happened, he wanted to share it with Ginny. Every time something good happened, he wanted to share it with Ginny. If a customer said something funny, or Evan cracked a new joke, he wanted to tell Ginny. He wanted her to know every facet of his life, and he never dreamed she still felt the same way. Honestly, it baffled him.
“What was I supposed to t-think? You left me on Christmas Eve and sent divorce papers before champagne on New Year’s. Gin, you b-b-blindsided me. I thought I was doing what you wanted, leaving you alone.” Max slumped on the hood of his car, taking a moment to clear his thoughts and slow his racing heart. Being stuck inside a defective washing machine on the spin cycle would be more relaxing.
Ginny tugged at the bottom of her sweater, worrying a piece of fabric between her fingers. “We felt like strangers. You were always at the diner, and I was always working on proposals. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was avoiding the trap of my ...” Her mouth clamped shut and she didn’t pick up her argument. Instead, she threw her head back and looked up at the clear, cool December sky. In the fading light of the community center’s lights, Ginny looked like an angel. She was aglow in the dark space, her sweater casting her in a red haze. She looked ethereal.
Max stood, leaning away from his car. “You didn’t finish your thought,” he said carefully, stepping toward her. His steps were measured, as if he were trying not to scare away a frightened animal. In that second, Ginny looked nearly feral.
“It’s not worth finishing,” she whispered. The temperature had dropped, and her words puffed out in a hint of steam before disappearing into the night.
Max balled his fists at his side, forcing himself not to shake Ginny by the shoulders. When they’d had arguments in the past, they usually ended like this. Ginny was on the cusp of telling a truth she was always too afraid to verbalize. It shouldn’t surprise Max that she petered out again tonight, but it still hurt. He wanted Ginny to have enough fight in her to put forth the effort to save their relationship—at the very least to attempt civility.
Behind them, the doors to the community center opened and people poured out. Ginny blinked before stomping toward Max’s car. She yanked on the door handle twice before he could fumble with the keyring to unlock the doors. Ducking her head, she slid into her seat and slammed the door. The bang echoed throughout the parking lot.
Max glanced over his shoulder and saw that no one was too close to have seen their fight. Buckeye Falls was known for their gossip train, and he didn’t want to board. Gently opening the driver’s door, Max got behind the wheel and turned on the car. The chorus of a familiar tune blasted through the speakers, but Ginny reached out to turn off the radio before he could. Their fingers grazed for a second before she snatched back her hand and started fumbling with her sweater again.
Driving back to Harold’s, Max kept his eyes on the road. He didn’t talk about the Jubilee or their fight or how being with Ginny made him feel alive for the first time in years. Max never felt whole if she wasn’t by his side. Regardless of their spat, she owned his heart and his soul. He needed her back, but if their time together this season continued like tonight, he knew it was a losing battle. He needed to figure out if getting her back was even possible.