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Ginny paced through the house that night. Sleep was not an option, as she had too many competing thoughts vying for space in her muddled brain. She did laundry, triple-checked that her father’s overnight bag was packed, scoured the stovetop, and gathered more firewood from the shed. She did anything to keep busy, anything to stop thinking about her father’s surgery ... and how excited she was to see Max in a few hours.
She was also pretending that she wasn’t thinking about his lips, or the fact that she desperately wanted to taste them. God, why had she fangirled over her ex-husband like that? And why couldn’t she stop thinking about how soft his flannel shirt felt on her fingers, or how safe and protected she felt in his embrace? Get a grip, Ginny!
During times like these, stressful times when uncertainty clouded around her, Ginny gravitated toward the kitchen. Whether over a cup of coffee or a meal, she liked to center herself in the warm space. There was something about being surrounded by happy memories and familiar scents that slowed her racing heart.
But for all the happy memories in this kitchen, there were a couple that tore her up inside. One of these memories Ginny kept hidden away because it was too much to even speak about. On a morning like this one, when no one was awake and the house was still, Ginny had watched her mother leave.
It had been in early high school, and Ginny had gotten up early to make hot cocoa since she knew she wasn’t allowed to have it with breakfast. This act of quiet defiance had been about as rebellious as she’d gotten back then. And if she were honest with herself, it was as rebellious as she got now. She didn’t like to cause scenes, period.
That morning she heard a quiet thud at the base of the stairs and a few muffled profanities. Thinking her mother was bringing down the laundry, Ginny got up to help, carefully covering her mug with a tea towel. “Good morning,” she’d said, turning the corner and coming face-to-face with a reality she hadn’t been prepared to see.
Her mother stood there, dressed in her favorite jeans and sweater, graying hair pulled back at the nape of her neck. A cloud of perfume had wafted up to greet Ginny, who’d raised an eyebrow at her mother. There’d been two suitcases splayed on the floor between them, her purse hung over the railing. “Oh,” her mother said, lowering her gaze. “I thought you’d still be in bed.”
Ginny shrugged, not sure why she was feeling so guilty. Even at fourteen she knew she was seeing something that was about to rip her world in half. “What’s going on?”
Her mother sighed and stepped past her daughter, pulling the suitcases back to standing and grabbing her coat from a hook by the door. For a moment, she didn’t say anything, just quietly buttoned her jacket up to her neck. “I’m going away for a while,” she’d said to the floor, her familiar gaze not reaching up to meet Ginny’s.
The month before, Ginny’s grandparents had been in a slow-speed auto accident. While she hadn’t heard much since then, she’d assumed her mother was off to take care of her ailing parents. “Is it Gran and Gramps?” Ginny stepped closer, instinctively reaching for her mother’s hand.
A look crossed her mother’s face at the question, like the excuse had never occurred to her. Licking her lips, her mother looked around the house in front of her. Carefully cataloging each nook and cranny like it was the last time she’d see it. Ginny hadn’t been sure what to say, so she followed her mother’s gaze from the Christmas tree in the corner to the spot on the ceiling where the heater leaked.
Finally, her mother spoke, “I’m leaving.” Her sharp gaze finally met her daughter’s, and Ginny shuddered at the lack of emotion in her eyes. Her father was the sweet one, the one to pull someone in for a hug while listening to their problems. He was steady and friendly, the type of man you’d want as a friend, as a father. Her mother had always been more reserved, sometimes looking down her nose at Buckeye Falls and its residents. At the time, Ginny didn’t understand how anyone could feel that way, but now it brought a chill to her skin that a pot of tea couldn’t warm.
That was all the explanation Ginny had gotten from her mother. She’d turned on her heel, wheeled the pair of suitcases into the dawn, and never looked back. Ginny never got a letter, call, or email. The only thing her father got was a divorce petition sent a few weeks later from California. They’d been sitting on the porch swing, wrapped in blankets, watching the trees shake in the February chill.
A black town car had pulled up to their garage, and Ginny felt both of them hold their breath. Was this bizarre nightmare over? Was her mother going to emerge from the car and everything would go back to normal? But it hadn’t been her mother. It had been a man in a suit who’d approached them without a smile. “Harold Meyer?” he’d asked, not even trying to soften the news.
“Yes, I’m Harold.” From underneath the blanket, her father squeezed her knee in silent support.
“You’ve been served,” the man said, thrusting a manilla envelope at her father before taking the stairs two at a time back to his car. In less than a minute, he’d left a gaping hole in their tiny corner of the world.
Ginny waited for her father to react. To stand and scream, rip the papers to shreds. Why wasn’t he fighting for her mother? Why wasn’t he railing against what she’d done? But her father didn’t do any of those things. He’d tucked the envelope into the side of the porch swing and wrapped his arm around his daughter. “We’re going to be fine, Ginnybread. We’re going to be fine,” he’d assured her through his closing throat. Ginny didn’t miss the hitch in his voice, and the sound gutted her.
Ginny swiped at a tear that had fallen down her cheek. All these years later, those memories still burned her. Just as she stood to get another cup of tea, her phone rang. Hurrying to answer it, she was dismayed to see it was Lana.
“Hello?” she asked, hoping it was a butt dial.
“Good, you’re up. I need you to run a few reports for me. No one is answering their phones, and I need these numbers by eight.”
Ginny scoffed. “Lana, I can’t do that. My father is having surgery in a few hours.” Ginny waited for her boss to apologize and suddenly grow a soul, but no such luck. Apparently, Scrooge hadn’t been visited by the three ghosts of Christmas yet.
“What, are you performing the surgery? You’ll have time to run the numbers. I need you to do this for me, then you can go back on vacation.”
The vein in Ginny’s temple throbbed. Not only wasn’t this a vacation, but Ginny had never taken a vacation in the two years she’d worked for Lana. Sure, she'd taken an occasional three-day weekend to see her father, but never more than that. Not to mention, this wasn’t a fun trip. Calming herself with a deep breath, Ginny replied, “No, you’ll have to find someone else.”
Lana was relentless. “No one else is answering. I need these numbers.”
Ginny pulled her phone back to see it was barely six o’clock. “That’s because they’re probably still asleep. The office doesn’t open for another two hours. Please, Lana, I need to be with my family.” Her family. When Ginny said those words, she was thinking about more than her father. Max’s kind face popped into her mind, and she felt herself calm at the thought of seeing him again so soon. “I have to go.”
Then Ginny did something she’d never done before; she hung up on Lana. Turning her phone off, Ginny cleared up her teapot and mug and went to take a shower. She needed to be ready when her father was up.
By the time she was dressed and walking downstairs, she heard her father’s voice. “I don’t think a cup of black coffee is going to make a difference.”
She halted halfway down the stairs at the sound of Max’s chuckle. “All right, Harold, let’s look at it this way. Not only will the doctors have to postpone your surgery, but you’re going to have a very upset Ginny on your hands. Do you really want to disappoint her?”
Ginny smiled at Max’s tone. He’d always been so patient with her father, which clearly hadn’t stopped since she’d left town.
“Fine.” Harold sighed. Ginny heard the clattering of the coffee pot being put away. “I’m going to watch Sports Center,” he pouted.
“You know, you always said pouting doesn’t look good on anyone,” she teased as she entered the kitchen. Fortunately her father was dressed and ready to go. Max looked ready too, in jeans and another flannel shirt, resembling someone prepared for a Marlboro ad more than a hospital waiting room. But Ginny wasn’t complaining. Flannel was quickly becoming her favorite thing.
“Good morning,” he greeted her with a small paper-wrapped package. “I brought this for you.” He placed it on the table.
Harold frowned. “Don’t I get something?”
“Yes, a new hip in about”—Max made a show of looking at his watch—“two hours.” Ginny ducked her head to hide her smile. Harold mumbled something and shuffled into the living room as fast as he could.
“You didn’t have to bring me anything,” she chided as she picked up the package. It was warm and smelled like butter and cheese.
“Wait until you see what’s inside before you say anything.” Max winked.
Ginny unwrapped the most perfect-looking breakfast sandwich she’d ever seen. Nestled between two buttery biscuits were an egg, cheddar, and bacon. “Oh my gosh, this looks amazing.” She leaned over to make sure her father wasn’t watching. “Didn’t you bring one for yourself?”
Max shook his head and pulled out a chair for her. “Nah, I ate mine already. I was going to wait and be a gentleman, but I was starving.”
Of course he’d made her breakfast. Max had always been up when they were married, trying out new recipes and making sure she had her coffee and a full breakfast in her before the long drive to Columbus. Now, sitting with him at the table and enjoying the meal he made, brought a lot of mixed emotions. “Thank you,” she whispered, “this is really nice.”
Max took his chair opposite her and rested his hand on hers. “You need to eat, and you need to take care of yourself. I’m not saying ice cream isn’t the meal of champions, but you need protein.” His lips quirked before he added, “Harold needs you to be strong. Now, dig in so he can finally get some relief from that damn hip.”
Ginny did as she was told, inhaling the sandwich faster than she thought possible. It was warm and comforting, just like Max. In a lot of ways, the two men in her life were very much alike. They were supportive and kind, always there with a smile or joke when she needed it. Ginny wondered how she’d taken them both for granted over the last few years.
Once she was finished, Max ushered Harold to his car. “Get in the front seat, you’ll have more legroom,” he ordered.
“Don’t need too much comfort today, son. They’re about to slice and dice me like a Christmas ham,” Harold grumbled.
Max laughed. “Don’t go ruining ham for me, Harold. That image is going to stick with me all morning.” He closed the door and turned to see Ginny watching their interaction. She hadn’t meant to stare, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “Ready?” he asked, jogging back to the porch to take Harold’s overnight bag from her.
Ginny let her fingers trace his as he took the bag. Her eyes stung when she remembered where they were going—she couldn’t reconcile their current reality. Her dad was about to go to the hospital.
“Uh-huh,” she sniffed.
Max dropped the bag and pulled her into his arms. It was a fierce hug that took the air from her lungs, but it was also exactly what she needed. “He’s going to be fine. In a few hours we’ll watch him scold the nurses for not turning on the right basketball game. He’s a tough cookie, Gin. It’s going to be all right.” His grip on her was vicelike, but she wasn’t complaining.
Ginny rested her head on his chest and felt the rumble of Max’s supportive words. He smelled piney and familiar, and she wanted to stay like that forever, leaning into his weight. Shaking herself, she stepped back and gave him a watery smile. “You’re right. I’m being a bit melodramatic.”
Max scooped up the bag and took Ginny’s hand. “Nah, you just love him.”
Ginny let Max lead the way to the car. Much like someone would treat a child, he waited until she buckled into the back seat before sliding behind the wheel and taking them to the hospital.
In a moment of weakness, she let herself pretend she still had a sweet husband who took the lead when she needed him. A husband who would take a day off work to be there for her father, who would cook and help with home projects just because he didn’t want Harold to overdo it. But here was the problem—Ginny had had that life.
Now Ginny’s eyes were tearing for a different reason. Perhaps it was the stress of the day, maybe it was Lana’s pushy phone call, but Ginny felt like she wasn’t where she needed to be. There was a small seed of doubt growing roots in her belly, taking hold. Was it too late for her and Max? Could she really be happy back in Buckeye Falls?
Despite the myriad of questions flitting through her brain, Ginny knew she felt more at home in that moment than she had in years. It terrified her, but it also excited her. For the first time in a long time, she saw potential for a happily ever after with Max.
*
Max had trouble keeping his eyes on the road. It was a short drive to the hospital, but every few seconds he looked in the rearview mirror to see Ginny. She was fidgeting a lot, way more than usual. Her hands kept balling and then ringing themselves, and her brow was knit in deep concentration. No matter how long they’d been apart, he could read his ex like a book.
Speaking of predictable, Harold chimed in when they drove past a McDonald’s. “Oh, we could get a quick coffee there. We’re so close to the hospital, I’m sure it wouldn’t even get into my system.” Max watched the man’s expression in the window’s reflection. He looked as excited as a kid on Christmas until Max kept driving.
“Honestly, Dad. I’m impressed by your dedication to caffeine. Even I didn’t know you had it that bad.” Ginny laughed from the back seat. Whether it was Harold’s intention, his daughter relaxed a bit at his caffeine hijinks.
Max was relieved to see Ginny unwind a bit. The mood in the car shifted as soon as Max pulled up to the unloading lot at the hospital. Since this wasn’t an emergency, it was a less crowded entrance. Harold sighed when Max put the car in park and got out. Jogging around the front of the car, he opened both Harold and Ginny’s doors. Harold shook away Max’s hand, pulling himself to stand.
“Let me do it, son. Soon enough I’ll be doped up and drooling.” He ran a hand through his thinning hair, squared his shoulders, and stared down the hospital like a general preparing for battle.
Ginny, on the other hand, let Max hold the door and took his hand when he offered it. He squeezed it quickly before releasing and tucking it into the crook of his elbow. He led the trio through the doors and faltered when there were two reception desks. “Do you know which one we want?” he asked Ginny.
“Short term,” she said. “Fortunately, Dad’s considered short term.” Ginny leaned closer to Max when the receptionist popped her head up and greeted them.
She was a pleasant enough woman, with a ready smile and bright eyes. Max knew she’d frequented the diner more than once, but he couldn’t place her name. “Max, how are you?” she asked, waving a hello.
“I can’t really complain. Just need to get my buddy Harold checked in for surgery.”
At the mention of his name, Harold eased forward and nodded. “Nice to see you, Janis. Haven’t seen you since the Fourth of July parade.”
Janis had lived in Buckeye Falls longer than anyone, except maybe Harold. She was a few years older than Ginny and Max, and she and her kids were very active with the town’s activities. “Well, I’ve been busy. Jaxon got into varsity soccer. Can you believe that at barely fifteen? Then Chelsea got into chess and has tournaments all over Ohio. It’s a wonder I have time to work and breathe.”
Despite Janis’s friendly banter, Max felt Ginny tense more and more the longer the conversation continued. When Harold asked how Janis’s husband was, Max cleared his throat to interrupt. “Sorry, Janis, but do you know where we need to take Harold? I think his surgery is scheduled for the next hour.”
Janis nodded and turned to her computer. “Let’s see here,” she muttered as she typed away on her keyboard. “Looks like you’re here for a hip replacement, right, Harold?” The older man shrugged, like he didn’t care what they did with him. Janis started going through a checklist of things, checking him in and verifying he hadn’t eaten in at least twelve hours.
“Unfortunately, I’m thirsty and hungry as a man on a deserted island,” Harold grumbled.
Janis giggled and handed him a clipboard. “I know. It must be rough with a chef like Max in the family.” She winked at Max and slid a pen across the counter to Harold. “Take a seat on those blue chairs. One of the nurses will be with you in a moment.”
Max guided Harold and Ginny to the waiting area, pleased that Janis considered him part of the Meyer family. It shouldn’t give his heart such a lurch, but it did. Truth be told, Max never stopped feeling part of the Meyer clan. His own parents rarely visited Ohio, and he had little to no desire to spend his limited days off in the swamps of Florida. Of course, he loved his parents, but he never had much of a deep relationship.
When he’d married Ginny, Harold was there to fish and cook and talk sports anytime. Even after she left, Max was relieved when that part of his life continued. He’d never admit this to Ginny, but he thought Harold and he saved each other when she left for New York. Neither one had seen her move coming, so they mourned her together.
Before Ginny could start fidgeting, a nurse came out with a wheelchair. “Harold Meyer?” she asked the empty waiting room.
Harold made a show of looking around and finally pointed to himself. “I guess you’re looking for me.” The nurse smiled and walked closer, helping him into the chair.
Ginny jumped to her feet, practically stepping on Max’s shoes. “Can I come back too?” She rushed forward, resting her hand on her father’s shoulder. Max could see her fingers trembling, and he wished there was something he could do to distract her.
The nurse shook her head and took control of the wheelchair, easing it a foot closer to the doorway. “I’m sorry, but the family cannot come back to the surgery prep rooms. If you leave your contact information with Janis, she can call you when the procedure is done. He should be out of surgery by early afternoon.”
Ginny took a step closer, her eyes growing two sizes in panic. “But I want to—" Before she could continue, Harold turned in the chair and patted her hand.
In a low voice he said, “Ginnybread, it’s okay. I’ll be out and doing cartwheels before you miss me.” Ginny shook her head. Harold glanced up at Max and smirked. “I told Max to keep you company and distract you. You follow his lead, and you won’t even notice I’m gone. Buckeye Falls has the best doctors in Ohio, and I know it’ll be all right.”
Ginny’s face crumpled as she let the tears fall. She fell to her knees and threw her arms around Harold’s shoulders. “Dad.” She hiccupped into his neck as her body shook with sobs. “I just ...” She coughed and kept sobbing, a series of unintelligible words slipping from her mouth.
Harold cooed and rubbed her back, letting his daughter get her tears out. To her credit, the nurse was patient and let them have their moment. Finally, she looked at Max and apologized. “I’m sorry, but I need to get Mr. Meyer prepped for surgery.”
Max nodded, stepping forward to peel Ginny off Harold. “Gin, we need to let them go. It’s going to be fine; you’ll see.”
Harold reached up and patted Max’s arm, and Max thought he might break down too. Harold was like a father to him, but he was going to be strong for Ginny.
An hour after Harold left, Janis came out to tell them he’d been taken into surgery. Ginny had been pretty quiet, alternating between staring at the floor and picking at her nail polish and pacing the small waiting room. When Janis went back to her desk, Max knew he needed to take action. The thought of sitting in that cramped room with an anxious Ginny for hours seemed daunting.
Rising to his feet, he rubbed his hands on his jeans and sighed. “How about we go home and regroup?”
Ginny looked like he’d slapped her. “Excuse me? Dad’s still in surgery,” she accused him. “I can’t leave.”
Max leaned down on his haunches and met Ginny’s watery gaze. “You heard Janis, so far, so good. There’s nothing we can do here, other than wear a hole in the cheap vinyl flooring. Let me make you some lunch and we’ll get some air. Come on, Gin.”
Ginny shook her head, but she didn’t say no. Max reached out and took both her hands in his. Tracing his fingers over her knuckles, he leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Do you know how ticked Harold would be, knowing you could have had a grilled cheese sandwich right now? I think you owe it to him to have a cheesy lunch in his honor.”
When they were married, Max had made countless grilled cheese sandwiches for Ginny. They were comfort food, celebration food, and depression food. No matter her mood, it always brought a smile to her face, and that was a sight he needed now more than ever.
Ginny nibbled on her bottom lip, glancing toward the exit. Max knew he had her. “We’ll be back in an hour?” she asked skeptically.
“Whenever you want. I promise.” He released one of his hands and splayed it on his chest. “I will have you back here before he’s out of surgery, and with a belly full of carbs and cheese.”
Finally Ginny cracked a smile. “A girl can’t really argue with that,” she mused.
Max pulled Ginny to her feet and drew her close for another hug before they left. On their way out, he gave Janis his cell phone in case anything happened. Once they were in the car, he thought it would be easier to take Ginny back to his place instead of Harold’s. When he got onto Main Street, he kept driving.
Ginny looked out the window, confusion creasing her forehead. “This isn’t the way back to Dad’s place.”
“Perceptive as ever.” Max laughed. “I’m taking you back to my place. It’s closer, plus I know I have plenty of bread and cheese.”
Ginny turned to him. “Your place?” Her expression suggested he was taking her to Buffalo Bill’s basement from Silence of the Lambs. He was a little disappointed, as he felt like last night they’d made headway in their relationship. There was a spark between them, and finally Max felt it wasn’t one-sided. He needed to be patient with Ginny and trust she’d come around in time.
“Yes, believe it or not, I don’t live at the diner. I’m also not trying to murder you, so stop looking so horrified.” He kept his hands on the steering wheel, which was no small feat at that moment. He wanted to reach out and take her hand, but he focused on the road. After last night’s snowfall, he needed to keep vigilant. Got to love those Midwest winters.
As he pulled his car into the driveway, Max said a prayer that he’d cleaned the place up before he left. Ginny didn’t wait for him to open the door, choosing instead to bolt out like the car was on fire. She nearly sprinted to the door, impatient as he took his time fumbling for his keys.
“Rushing me won’t make the surgery go faster,” he said.
Ginny rolled her eyes and stomped the snow from her boots. “I know that, but it makes me feel better.”
Max turned the key and waited for the deadbolt to drop. “Then, by all means, stampede over me.” He laughed.
Ginny shoved his shoulder playfully, and her touch sent an electric charge straight up his spine. He had to clear his throat and take a breath before he followed her inside.
He studied Ginny as she took in her surroundings. His house was modest, even by Midwest standards. He’d never wanted anything palatial, but now he wondered what Ginny thought of his little cottage. There was only one bedroom, but he’d renovated the kitchen to take up half of the first floor.
Not wasting any time, Ginny went into the kitchen and pulled out a stool, propping her elbows on the counter. Her attentive gaze swept over the space, from the six-burner stove to the stainless-steel fridge. “This is a great kitchen.”
“Thanks. You should have seen it when I bought the place. It was barely a galley kitchen, which had horribly outdated appliances. The first time I tried to make dinner, I thought I would go insane.” Max shuddered at the memory.
There were other reasons he nearly went insane back then. The wounds of their divorce were still raw, his heart bleeding more often than not. He had put all his energy into making the house his own, from the kitchen design to the masculine color scheme. Since Ginny occupied so much of his mental space, he wanted to erase her from his personal space. Were he being honest, Max knew it was impossible to wipe her from his memory.
“When did you move in?” she asked, tracing her fingers along the clean surface.
Without thinking, Max replied, “Just about two years ago.” Barely after the ink was dry on their divorce papers. There was a part of him that had wanted to run away, leave Buckeye Falls and everything he knew. He felt worthless, utterly alone. Then Harold had made a comment about being grateful that Max stayed, how happy he was to still have family there. That had sealed the deal for Max, and he kept his promise and stayed put. Despite all the complicated memories tied to this town, it was his home. He wasn’t going to run away.
“Oh,” Ginny said, her mouth making a perfect O. She hesitated a moment before continuing. “Well, it’s a great space.”
“Thanks,” Max said, opening the fridge to grab what he needed for the sandwiches. He was grateful that he remembered to keep his pantry stocked, because these sandwiches would be nothing without tomato soup for dipping.
While Max busied himself with making lunch, Ginny’s phone rang. Both stopped breathing while she pulled it from her purse to see who it was. “Oh, it’s my boss.” She sighed with relief. “Do you mind if I take this?” she asked as she wiggled the phone in the air. Max shook his head and focused on grating three types of cheese.
Ginny tiptoed into the living room to take the call. Max wasn’t eavesdropping necessarily, but he could tell Ginny was stressed from her tone. “No, Lana.” She groaned. “I can’t right now. Please, can’t you just ...” There was a break in conversation while she stalked around his living room. Her feet were stomping so loudly, Max feared she’d knock a picture off the wall. “I said this morning that ...no ... you’re not ... Lana!” Ginny’s voice was practically a shout as she finally said, “I told you I can’t. My father is in surgery right now. I’ll check in tomorrow, but I’m unavailable today. Goodbye.”
Max turned back to the stove so his back was to Ginny as she stomped back into the kitchen and plopped down on the stool. “Sorry about that,” she said, smoothing down her sweater. Her hands shook as she attempted to flatten the mussed fabric.
“Everything okay?” he asked, placing the sandwiches into a pool of melted butter. The heavenly aroma of butter and bread filled the kitchen, and Max kept his focus on the stove. The soup simmered and he could not wait to dig in. Stressful day or not, this was his favorite lunch. “There are some seltzers in the fridge,” he offered without thinking.
“Thanks,” Ginny said, walking to the fridge. Max realized his mistake when she faltered and didn’t open the door.
On the front of the fridge were some of his favorite pictures with Ginny. A candid shot from their wedding day, a picture of them in Columbus during the rib festival, a blob of barbecue sauce on her lips, and a shot of the pair with Harold on the last Christmas before she left. He knew he shouldn’t keep photos of the woman who broke his heart, but they brought him such joy. Parting with all the evidence of their happier times didn’t seem right.
Ginny ran a shaking finger over the festival photo, her expression hard to read. “That was a really nice day,” she mused. “Didn’t you win the barbecue sauce competition that year?”
He did, but that wasn’t what Max remembered about that day. What Max remembered was how Ginny had held his hand during the voting, how she’d laughed and danced while a bluegrass band played by the river. Max remembered the feel of her as she jumped into his arms when they’d announced the winner, how she’d yelped when he spun her in a circle. That was the day Max knew he couldn’t possibly be happier. He’d achieved a professional goal with the competition, but he’d also never felt closer to another person. Ginny completed him, plain and simple.
“Yeah, it’s one of my favorites. Still use that recipe at the diner.” Max plated the sandwiches and motioned toward the counter. “You okay eating here?”
Ginny nodded, opening the fridge to grab a couple of drinks. She slid one toward him and gaped at the sandwich. “Don’t take this wrong, but you’ve come a long way with your grilled cheese. This could be on the cover of Bon Appétit magazine,” she swooned.
Ginny’s praise was a balm for his soul, and Max didn’t fight the smile that took over his face. “Don’t get too excited, I’m still using canned soup.” He placed a steaming bowl in front of her and popped the top of his drink.
Ginny didn’t wait for him, instead diving right into her sandwich. After one bite, she threw her head back and groaned. It was a sound that Max had heard her make in the bedroom, and he needed to take a chug of his water to cool down. “Max, this is amazing,” she raved. “Are there two types of cheese?” She pulled the sandwich halves apart, leaving a foot-long trail of melted cheese.
Max dunked his sandwich in his soup. “It’s three, actually. Swiss, cheddar, and pepper jack.”
Ginny slurped her soup and was silent for a moment, letting her attention stay on the meal in front of her. Max always enjoyed watching her savor food. She was an expressive eater, letting everyone know if she was merely eating to get through the meal or treating it as a religious experience. Right in that instance, she looked like she was on a spiritual quest.
“I hope you make these at the diner,” she suggested, licking a trail of grease from his hand.
“Number twelve on the lunch menu. The only thing that varies is the cheeses. CeCe makes a tomato bisque, which is literally to die for. You need to come by and try it.” Ginny flinched and put her sandwich down on her plate. Max noticed it wasn’t the first time that mentioning CeCe brought a shudder, but now he wanted to know why. “What’s up? You seem to have something against CeCe.”
Ginny looked up and took a moment to school her features. She looked around the kitchen, as if the reason for her dislike was embedded in the walls. “Is CeCe your girlfriend?” she finally asked.
Max nearly choked on his seltzer. “W-what? N-n-no. Good Lord, why would you think that?” he spluttered. The notion of CeCe being anything but a friend and colleague short-circuited his brain. The only chemistry they shared was in the kitchen. Any other suggestion was laughable.
There was no hiding the fact that Ginny slumped with relief at the news. “No reason,” she lied, trying to play it cool. She couldn’t hide the flush that crept up her neck, or the fact that she was balling her napkin. Busted!
Max could not help himself, he beamed. “You’re jealous.” It was a statement, not a question. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of that before. All the times Ginny tensed when CeCe was mentioned, and he hadn’t put the pieces together. He felt like a goober. A smug goober, but a goober nonetheless.
Ginny shook her head. “Nope. I just wanted to know, that’s all.”
Max slid his plate to the side and leaned closer, his appetite forgotten. “Are you seeing anyone in New York?” God, he didn’t think she was, but now that he asked, he feared the answer. Harold kept up with what Ginny was doing, but he doubted the man would have shared this type of detail with him over their weekly dinners. No one, especially Harold, wanted to be the bearer of bad news.
“No, I’m not.” Ginny dropped her spoon, her bowl now empty. Apparently the conversation had done nothing to her appetite.
Max slowly rose from his stool, taking measured steps toward Ginny. He treated her like a wild animal, afraid if he moved too quickly, she’d spook and run away. “That’s good to know,” he said quietly.
Ginny’s eyes dilated, but she kept her gaze locked on his. “Is it?” she asked, her voice a little squeaky. She was adorable when she was nervous.
“Yes, it is.” Max couldn’t stop himself as he inched closer. Finally they were barely a foot apart. He could smell the mint of her shampoo and felt the heat radiating off her skin. “It’s a very good thing,” he mused.
Ginny angled her head up, keeping her eyes focused on his. “Why?” The question was so hesitant, Max wasn’t certain she actually asked.
Before he could talk himself out of anything, he reached a hand up to swipe a lock of chocolaty hair off Ginny’s cheek. Her skin flushed as he touched her, goosebumps erupting as he traced a finger down her skin.
“Because I want you all to myself,” Max whispered.
Ginny didn’t pull back, instead leaning into his touch. Their lips were now a hair’s length apart. This was more than the night before; this was the moment. This was his shot, and he was going to take it.
“Max.” She breathed his name like a prayer. Her tongue quickly darted out to wet her lips, and Max thought he’d faint.
Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he struggled to keep his cool. “Gin.”
“Are you going to kiss me?” A hint of laughter tinged her question.
Max smiled, enjoying the familiar banter. “Is that all right?”
At first she was silent, and Max feared he’d overplayed his hand. Then Ginny leaned in, closing the distance between them. The feel of her lips on his overloaded his senses. It had been years since they’d kissed, but it felt like yesterday. He brought his hands to her face, cupping her cheeks as he deepened the kiss, holding her close. He cradled her gently, treasuring having her near again.
Max could have kissed Ginny forever, lost in nearly forgotten tastes and sensations. That is, until the shrill sound of his cell phone broke the spell. They both shot apart, a wild look in their eyes. Ginny’s lips were swollen, her mouth slightly agape. She never looked more delectable, and he wanted to toss her over his shoulder and carry her to bed like the caveman he was quickly becoming. Any gentlemanly notions evaporated when their lips touched. Max was a goner, and he didn’t give a damn.
Remembering the moment, Max cursed Alexander Graham Bell and the invention of the telephone. He pulled his phone from his pocket and saw the caller ID. “It’s the hospital,” he said.