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Max was at the diner at the crack of dawn. Never much of a bourbon drinker, he was reminded of this fact as he lay on the couch feeling the world spin. A bottle of water, two ibuprofen, and a run later; he felt human. Rather than take the coward’s way out, Max decided to face his issues head-on. He opened the diner’s kitchen and started working on recipes for the Jubilee Ball.
Prepping for the Jubilee made him think about Ginny, and Max sighed. “No point going there,” Max grumbled, sliding a cookbook to the side of the counter and cracking open another one. He had seven pots going on the stove. There was a pot of chicken pot pie, a tray of quiches ready for the oven, a pot of vegetable soup, and the beginnings of beef stew in front of him.
“Something smells amazing.” He heard CeCe say from the back door. “I mean, other than me.” She laughed at her own joke and hung her coat on the peg by the door. She didn’t seem surprised to see Max at the diner so early, and he was just as unsurprised to see CeCe.
Part of what made their relationship work was that they were on the same page. Cook when the mood struck, whether it was a good mood or a bad mood. If either one wanted to cook at odd hours, that was fine by him. The only caveat was the meals they worked on ended up on the diner menu. The only exception being a lemon curd tart that CeCe let curdle. A rare miss by CeCe’s standards, but not everything could be menu worthy.
CeCe snagged a clean tasting spoon from a drawer and joined Max at the stove. She dipped it into the pot pie filling and slurped. Her eyes fluttered closed as she hummed her approval. “You let me make the crust for that, and it’s a winner.”
Max gestured to the canister of flour on the counter. “I know you need to prep the cookies, but I thought ...” He trailed off, knowing CeCe would read his mind.
“You thought I’d walk in here, get up in your business, and finish everything that needed baking? Wow, Max. It’s like you know me or something.” She rolled up her sleeves and started measuring flour and cubing butter. “I’ll have this short crust ready before we open,” she promised.
Keeping his attention on the vegetables he was dicing, Max said, “We should have plenty of time. Evan’s still coming in. I tricked him into decorating duty.”
CeCe laughed, working the dough with her hands. Crumbles of flour and butter stuck to her fingers. “Poor kid—he’ll do pretty much anything you ask.”
Max watched CeCe work and hedged his bets. “Evan does pretty much anything you ask too. Just saying.”
“Different situations, and you know it.” CeCe rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand, leaving a dusting of flour over her eyes. “He’s a kid with a crush, that’s all.”
For nearly a year, Max had watched Evan fawn over CeCe. It was a poorly kept secret that he was in love with her, but Max pretended he didn’t see it. “You know, he’s only like five years younger than you. You make him sound like a toddler.”
Slapping the dough on the counter, CeCe dug in with the heels of her hands, pushing until a strip of dough formed. She kept her eyes focused on her work, but Max could see her thinking. “What did I say last night? You don’t mix work with pleasure.”
Max was not deterred. “You look like you’re enjoying work now. Why can’t you humor the guy and take him out sometime? If it sucks, cut your losses.”
“Says the man who won’t confront his ex,” she retorted, walking past him to put her dough in the fridge to rest. Once the door closed, CeCe spun around and crossed her arms. Max was surprised at how intimidating she looked covered in flour. “And don’t you dare say it’s different, because all matters of the heart boil down to the same thing.” She held her hands up like a set of scales. “Someone gets their heart broken while someone else does the breaking. I’d rather avoid that messiness at work.”
Max held his hands up in defeat. “All right, you win. I’ll drop it.”
CeCe narrowed her eyes at her boss. “Why don’t I believe you?”
Max laughed. “Because you know me. I’ll bring this up again soon enough, but I promise to drop it for now.” He slid the cutting board’s vegetables into a pot and added a sprinkling of salt. He hoped by playing nice, CeCe would help him today. It wouldn’t be easy having Ginny in the diner, but it would be even harder if she stayed away.
Silently, Max continued working on his prep while CeCe got everything ready for the cookie party. She turned on Christmas music, which was very unlike her. She enjoyed the season as much as the next person, but she rarely donned ugly sweaters and sang carols. Humming, CeCe organized dozens of plastic cups with red, white, gold, and green sprinkles. She filled piping bags with white frosting and tied off the edges of the bags, lining them up on a tray.
Back when they opened the diner up for events like this, Max scoffed at the idea. He couldn’t imagine his neighbors giving up their afternoons to decorate cookies or make gingerbread houses, but that is exactly what they did. The first Christmas they offered a party, the tickets sold out instantly. He had to turn folks away at the door, which only added to the allure of the event to begin with. There were even a few weekends when the diner would close early for birthday parties. He and CeCe had discussed expanding to more events, but they both forgot about it once the holidays ended. Standing there now, listening to the sounds of the season while his kitchen smelled like heaven, Max felt at peace. His heart was in pieces, but it would mend. It did before; he just needed to have faith.
“Did you guys start the party without me?” Evan asked from the doorway. He wore a heather-green sweater and a pair of jeans. He immediately flushed when CeCe came up and hip-checked him. The red blush gave him the perfect Christmas color scheme.
“We’d never start the fun without you,” she teased, breezing past him with a tray of cookies. “If you really want to have fun, you can help me decorate the tables.”
Max winked at CeCe when she walked past him with a box of decorations. They both knew Evan could handle it on his own, but it would make his day. “Sure,” Evan breathed as he tripped over his feet to catch up to CeCe. “Let me get the door.”
Before Max got too distracted, there was a knock from the back. A pull in his chest told him he wanted it to be Ginny, but he struggled to hide his disappointment when he found Natalie standing there.
Much like Evan, she’d gotten festive for the day. A pair of reindeer antlers sat on top of her blonde head, and red jingle bells chimed when she moved. “Hi.” She waved, pushing past him without waiting for an invitation. She had a heaving tote bag slung over her shoulder.
Max stepped forward to take her bag, and she nearly fell over. “What is all this? I told you we have it all covered.”
Natalie gave him a look like he’d lost his mind. “You have the cookie decorating covered, but I brought activities for the kids. Don’t you remember last year? The Miller twins practically burned your diner down when they ran out of cookies to decorate.”
Natalie pulled out three board games and a puzzle. She also retrieved three bottles of champagne. “Is this for the kids that won’t calm down?” He laughed, checking the vintage of the bottle. This wasn’t the cheap stuff he was used to.
Natalie giggled and moved the bottles to the edge of the counter. “Oh, Max, you always were a funny one.”
Max smiled but didn’t agree with her. While Natalie was never mean to Max, they were hardly friends when they were younger. Since her husband lived for teasing him, Max usually kept his distance from Natalie and her friends. The one exception being Ginny.
CeCe joined them in the kitchen and hugged Natalie. “Nat, you’re early. Bless you. Evan doesn’t have an eye for tinsel.” She groaned.
Right on cue, Evan came into the kitchen covered in silver tinsel. Three clumps clung to his curls, and he fidgeted as he pulled a handful from inside his sweater. “Don’t ask,” he mumbled to Max, who could barely contain his grin. “CeCe had a great idea to hang this crap from the lights, but they wouldn’t stick.”
Natalie raised a manicured eyebrow. “It looks like we found the one thing this stuff does stick to.”
Evan stepped to the corner and pulled his sweater over his head. Max heard both women gulp and turned to see what the fuss was about. Even in the fluorescent lighting of the kitchen, Max knew that Evan was fit as hell. The kid had at least two six-packs and arms that were honed from countless days lifting boxes and carrying trays. Max would kill for that metabolism again ...
“Evan, dude. Put your shirt back on before the health inspector shuts us down,” Max said, noticing how CeCe’s face matched Natalie’s red earrings. The only other time he’d seen that look cross her face was when she’d finally figured out why her blue cheese souffles were deflating. Yet her hungry expression had little to do with egg whites and a lot to do with the man standing before them—literally looking like a Christmas present.
“Good Lord,” Natalie breathed, fanning herself with a menu. “I need to come back here more often.” Turning to her friend, she added, “You’ve been holding out on me.”
CeCe reached for her bottled water and took a healthy sip. Evan either didn’t notice the women’s reactions or was smart enough to school his features. Max envied the kid’s physique. Between his hours at the diner and his appetite, Max hadn’t seen a six-pack (outside a refrigerator) for more years than he cared to remember.
Natalie’s phone chirped and brought everyone back to reality. Evan was now mostly tinsel-free, CeCe had rehydrated and composed herself, and Max had the pot pies in the oven. “All right, party people,” Natalie crooned, “Anthony is dropping off the kids in a minute and he said there’s already a few cars out front.” She slid her phone back into her purse and caught Max’s sour expression. “I told him he can’t stay, especially if he’s going to be a jerk.”
CeCe gave Max a look he could read all too well before scurrying over to her prep station to grab her piping bags. “It’s a shame the good mayor can’t join us,” she said.
Natalie rolled her eyes. “Oh please, none of us are disappointed. And by the way”—she turned and pointed at Max and CeCe—“whoever added the extra starch to his suit deserves a raise.” Natalie stalked out to the dining room, the bottles of champagne clutched in her hands.
Evan took a tray from CeCe and followed Natalie to the dining room. CeCe waited until he was through the door before addressing Max. “Don’t you say a word about—” She sighed, gesturing to her torso. “It was a weak moment.”
Max tossed her a towel, which she caught midair. “You might want that for the drool on the corner of your mouth. Right here.” He pointed to his face. CeCe mumbled a few choice profanities and stormed out of the kitchen.
Thirty minutes later, the diner was packed. Every booth had at least four people crammed in, with the available counter seats taken with winter coats and bags of gifts. Mona had called to share the news that Ginny would be representing her and the planning committee, which did nothing to calm the firestorm churning through Max. He couldn’t decide if it was better or worse, knowing that Ginny would be there any second.
Under the ruse of keeping the lunches coming, Max stayed in the kitchen and focused on the night ahead. While mixing ingredients for salad dressing, Max looked up to see Evan sulking by the dishwasher. His shoulders were slumped forward and his head was bowed, a few loose curls falling into his face.
“What’s up?” Max asked, coming over to check on his friend.
Evan looked up and shook his head. “Nothing, just checking on the dishes.” Max looked over at the dishwasher, which was empty. Evan sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I was going to ask CeCe to go to the Jubilee Ball with me.”
Max’s heart broke for the kid, whose eager expression hid the pain he was sure he felt. “What happened?” Max asked carefully.
Evan swept his hair from his face and huffed. “She said she doesn’t want to go. Natalie was bringing up that everyone needed to get their dresses ready, but CeCe said there was no point. She didn’t want to go.”
Max considered his words carefully, as he didn’t want to put either friend in a bad position. “Did you ask if she wanted to go with you?”
“No, I don’t want to get shut down again.” Evan leaned back against the dishwasher and groaned. “There’s only so much rejection a guy can take, Max. I don’t know if I can keep putting myself out there, knowing she’s going to shoot me down.”
That was a sentiment Max understood all too well. He battled with how to explain himself to Evan, when CeCe came back with two empty trays. “We need some more milk for the ...” She stopped dead in her tracks and looked back and forth at the pair. “What did I miss?”
Max knocked his knuckles on the dishwasher and sighed. “Damn thing is acting up again. Evan was taking a look.” He turned and saw Evan say a silent “thank you.” “How’s it going out there?”
CeCe put the trays by the dishwasher and adjusted the Christmas tree hat on her head. Natalie had shared the Christmas magic with everyone, regardless if they were feeling festive. “In case you’re wondering, a certain New Yorker is here. She’s at table five.”
Max walked back to the counter where his salad dressing sat unfinished. “Good for her. I’m glad she made it.”
CeCe threw her hands in the air. “You men.” She exhaled. “Can’t you go talk to her?”
Evan’s face flashed purple. He opened his mouth and shut it twice before saying, “Whose side are you on? If Max wants to save what is left of his heart, then I say let him. What is the point of putting yourself out there if you’re jerked around all the time?” Evan’s voice went up to an octave Max didn’t think should be humanly possible. “You women.” He huffed as he stormed out through the back door.
“What’s his problem?” CeCe asked, thrusting her hands on her hips.
“I want no part of this,” Max said, measuring a cup full of olive oil. “But if I did want to get involved, I’d say maybe you should talk to him. He might have something he wants to ask you.”
CeCe leaned on the counter, right over where Max was pouring. “Is this coming from personal experience?”
Max put down the bottle and pinched the bridge of his nose. “CeCe,” he warned.
CeCe scoffed. “So we’re allowed to dissect my love life, but not yours?”
“I didn’t think either of us had a love life,” Max offered, painfully aware of how parallel he and Evan’s love lives were. Max had no right giving anyone advice if he wasn’t going to take his own. Shoving the bottles back, he sighed. “I’ll go talk to Ginny, but I need you to talk to Evan.”
“About what?” CeCe seemed genuinely confused. “Did I do something wrong out there?” She gestured toward the dining room.
Checking to make sure Evan hadn’t slunk back into the kitchen, Max lowered his voice. “He wants to ask you to the Jubilee Ball. He heard you say you didn’t want to go.”
CeCe smacked her forehead with her palm. “Crap, I wasn’t thinking when I said it. I had no idea Evan was there.” Max knew CeCe would never hurt Evan intentionally. It wasn’t in her to be cruel.
“Answer me this, are you really not going to the ball?” Max asked, collecting his ingredients to put away.
CeCe joined in the cleanup and shrugged. “I wasn’t planning on it. I thought after we got the food set up, I’d take a hike.”
“Do you have anything against going?” Max really wanted to know because it wasn’t worth pushing the issue otherwise.
Pondering for a moment, CeCe finally said, “No. Not really. I don’t have someone to go with, so I didn’t see the point.”
“Then go with Evan. It’ll make his freaking year if you do.”
CeCe placed the last bottle away and poked Max in the chest. “Riddle me this,” she urged, “are you going to ask your ex-wife? If you’re going to play matchmaker, I want in on the fun.” Max knew that look all too well. CeCe was digging in her heels, and there was nothing he could do to get away from her wrath now.
Evan’s words rattled around his head. There’s only so much rejection a guy can take. Perhaps this was Max’s line in the sand. He’d opened himself up to Ginny, taking her into his home, and showed her what their life could be like. Her rejection cut just as deep as it did two years ago. Finally, Max was done being a doormat.
“Here’s the deal,” he said to CeCe, who stopped to watch him. His tone was more commanding than normal. “I’m going to go out and say hello to Ginny, but I’m done. Our boy Evan brought up a good point. There is only so much rejection a guy can take. If he asks you to go to the ball, make a decision, but stick with it.” CeCe’s throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, but Max wasn’t going to let her interrupt. “I need to step back and focus on what makes me happy, what actually loves me back.” Max paused, gulping in a lungful before continuing. “This place”—he motioned around them—“and all of you make me happy. It’s been enough for the last few years, and it will continue to be enough.”
CeCe gaped at Max, taken aback by his honesty. She looked around the kitchen for a moment and finally said, “You’re on.” She raised her index finger. “But if Evan doesn’t ask, I’m not bringing it up.”
Max nodded, pulling his apron over his head. Catching his reflection, he ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “I’m going to get this over with. Can you please watch those pies?”
Feeling his throat tighten, Max merely nodded before walking past CeCe and into his future. He saw a flurry of activity in the dining room, with kids running around stuffed with sugary treats, and a few adults, who were slurring their speech after a couple glasses of champagne. But what caught his attention was Ginny, sitting at a table surrounded by children.
Her hair was tucked into an elf hat, and she looked adorable. Attention focused on the kiddos, she leaned in and pointed to a pile of edible glitter. Her voice was even as she instructed them on placing sprinkles on their snowmen cookies. “That’s right,” she cooed, “just like that. Awesome job,” she praised one of the Miller twins. The kids raised their hands for a high five, which Ginny enthusiastically complied. “You two are decorating pros.” The children beamed at her compliments before promptly running off to share their kudos with their mother.
Not wasting another moment, Max approached her table and plastered on what he hoped was a convincing smile. Judging from her expression, he knew he’d failed. “Th-thanks for coming out to represent the Jubilee committee. Mona said you were coming.” Keeping his arms crossed over his chest, Max stared at the top of Ginny’s hat. If their eyes met, his resolve would crumble faster than a gingerbread house.
Ginny slid across the booth and got to her feet. Max took a step back and bumped into Natalie. “Max, there you are. I was looking for you. This has been the best cookie party yet.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “Thank you for hosting again. I can’t imagine a better place for this event.”
“You’re welcome. You know I’m always happy to help.”
Natalie opened her mouth to say something, but a frosting-covered Otis caught her attention. “Otis, what did Mommy say about frosting? It goes on the cookies, not in our hair.” She sprinted off after the boy, who was giggling like a madman. Max smiled briefly at the kid before getting back to the issue at hand.
Hitching a thumb over his shoulder, Max made his excuse to leave. Ginny reached out and touched his arm. “Max, can we talk for a second?” she asked, her eyes hopeful.
“I really need to check on things,” he offered lamely.
Ginny bit her lip. “I deserve that, but can I just have a second? I want to apologize for yesterday.” Max’s gaze was pulled from her ridiculous hat down to her fingers, which balled a napkin so tightly it turned into festive confetti.
“You really don’t have to say anything, Gin. I need to get back.” Max didn’t wait for her to reply, instead stomping back to the kitchen. As soon as the door swung shut, he knew he’d been followed. CeCe looked up from the stove and dropped her tongs.
Ginny tugged on his hand, and Max was forced to stop. CeCe turned down the burners and cleared her throat. “I’m going to check on how things are progressing with uh ...” She gestured toward the door. Throwing another glance over her shoulder at the pair, she finally stepped out into the festive chaos.
As soon as CeCe cleared the threshold, Ginny frowned. “Is that CeCe?” she asked.
Max reveled in Ginny’s sour expression. “Yes, it is. I don’t know why it matters. You can’t be jealous and dismissive all at once.” The crestfallen look on Ginny’s face should have broken his heart, but he was done caring. “You really shouldn’t even be back here. It’s for staff only.”
Ginny threw her hands in the air and followed Max toward his office. “So, this is how we’re playing this? You’re not even going to talk to me? We need to talk about this, not just ignore each other.”
The pulse in Max’s temple throbbed to life, and he counted down from five before turning to face his ex. “So you’re upset that for once I’m ending the argument early? Should I let you get fired up and stomp off when it’s good for you? Would that make this more p-p-palatable?”
His blind rage caused Ginny to fumble on her feet. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked, clearly upset. “I’ve never seen you behave this way before.”
Max shoved his hands in his pockets and rolled back on his heels. “Well, maybe this is the new Max. I think after all these years, I’m allowed to stand up for myself. I think my doormat days are finally over.”
“Doormat? You think I treat you like a doormat?” Ginny looked as if he’d slapped her. Her jaw fell, and her eyes misted over. “Have I really been that cruel?”
Max felt his heart bang inside his chest. He’d sat on these frustrations for years, and dammit, it felt right to finally give them voice. “You kissed me and acted like it was a fate worse than death. How do you think that made me feel? I pine for you like a heartsick fool, and as soon as you’re back, I put my heart on the line for you, Gin. I would gladly do anything for you, and you exploited that.”
“You think I exploited you?”
“I think you’re going to leave again. I think you’re not coming back from New York this time; at least not in a capacity to see me.” Raking a hand through his hair, Max strived to keep his voice firm, his words sure. “I think I’m tired of always being the one left behind, so excuse me if I don’t want to prolong the inevitable. It is brutal being taken for granted like this.”
“You make me sound like a monster.” Ginny sobbed, her hands pressed to her cheeks as the tears finally fell. “You make me sound like my mother.”
Max knew he’d gone too far, stepped into painful territory that crossed a line. Just as his stutter was his soft spot, a part of himself he kept hidden, so was Ginny’s mother. After years of bad-mouthing her mother’s decisions, Ginny had fallen into the same pattern. He’d realized it long ago, but never said anything that mirrored her adolescent trauma.
Stepping forward, Max reached out for Ginny. “Gin, I sh-sh-shouldn’t have said that.”
As still as a statue, Ginny didn’t breathe for a moment. Max watched in heartbreak as a single tear slid down her cheek, dissecting a constellation of freckles. With a shaking hand, she wiped away the tear. “You have every right to be angry. And you’re right, I’ve taken advantage of your kindness. I’m sorry, Max.” Ginny reached and fumbled with the doorknob until she finally broke out into the hot air of the kitchen.
Max watched her leave and felt rooted in place. Once again, his wife was leaving and he couldn’t get his feet to move. At least he’d found his words this time, Max held onto that notion, that small point of pride.
He could still hear Christmas Carols from the party, but Max felt anything but festive. He felt raw, ripped open. It was not a new feeling for him, but he felt different this time. It was like a nightmare you keep having, but you can’t change the outcome. Arms flailing, reaching out to change the ending you know is coming. But now, he felt like this might have been the breakthrough he’d been waiting for. Sure, they were both upset. This time there was a difference; they both fought. They both said their piece.
There would be regret, probably sooner than Max cared to realize. But in that moment, locked inside his tiny office with the sounds of holiday cheer surrounding him, he knew he’d finally broken the cycle, broken free of his past pain. Because for once, he used his words to speak his own truth. If that’s all it took to keep Ginny away, then it truly wasn’t meant to be.