Page 13 of Can We Skip to the Good Part?

FIVE

Rivals and Revelations

T he Uber dropped Max off twenty minutes early for book club, and for a second, she stayed frozen in the back seat, pulse tapping high in her throat.

She hated how nervous she felt, how the air seemed thinner just thinking about walking through Stevie’s door and seeing Ella again.

She’d told herself it was better to be early than to walk into the group cold, but, really, she was hoping for a quiet moment to steady herself.

Maybe Stevie would be in the kitchen, and they could chat—nothing deep, just something to anchor her.

She wasn’t ready to face Ella. Not yet. But being first gave her a chance to breathe.

As always, she let herself in and found Stevie doing Stevie. In other words, prepping gorgeous trays of food for the group and grooving to Celine Dion’s greatest hits in her kitchen.

“What’s up, M? You came to see me shaking my ass?”

“I came to help,” Max said and offered a hip bump. “Put me to work.”

“My lucky day. You can slice the salami,” Stevie said. She handed Max the knife. “And here’s the chub.”

“Stevie.” Max stared down at the whole salami in her hand, laughter bubbling. “Please tell me that this phallic tube of meat is not called a chub. Stop it. That can’t be true. I won’t survive this knowledge.”

“It is,” Stevie said and joined her. “Some butcher years back had a good ole time naming that one.”

“Looks like a chub,” Max said, using the voice of a gruff male butcher. The laughter took over, her eyes filling with tears. “Just gonna call it a chub.”

“I’ll take one chub!” Stevie said, asking as a customer.

“What’s so funny?” They looked up to see Ella standing there, wine in hand, smile on her face. She looked to Stevie. “Last time you said just to come on in. I hope that’s okay.”’

“Of course, sweetheart. Come in. Come in. I’ll take that,” she said, stealing the wine and beckoning Ella to join them in the kitchen.

“You’re early,” Max said, eyeing her, nerves firing. “And you came back.”

“I realize that last part might be surprising,” she said, meeting Max’s gaze. “But I enjoyed the club and can focus on the group.”

“Fair enough. Glad you did.”

“Thanks. Me, too.”

If there had been a literal ocean between them, their exchange couldn’t have felt more distant.

Stevie had been taking in their conversation like a riveting tennis match, and finally jumped in. “Ella, how are you at slicing fruit?”

“Oh, it’s what I was born for. How can I help?”

Stevie slid her a cutting board and a carton of strawberries, giving her a brief rundown of how she usually cuts them herself.

“Any reason you showed up ahead of schedule?” Max asked, keeping her eyes on her own project. Ella stood next to her, slicing. She smelled like orange blossoms and vanilla.

“I wanted to see if Stevie needed anything. You?”

They’d still not looked at each other. “Same.” They cut their respective contributions in silence until Max couldn’t take it anymore. “Hey, Stevie. Is Dominic around?”

And just like that, Stevie, who stood at the sink, burst into tears.

For a moment, Max didn’t move. Stevie, the kind of person the word spitfire was made to describe, had never come close to crying in her presence.

What in the world was happening, and more importantly, how should she handle it?

She and Ella turned to each other in the same moment.

“Do you want to …?” Ella asked.

“Yep,” Max said, setting down the knife. They moved to the sink at the same time, flanking Stevie on either side.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Max asked, taking the lead. Ella placed a hand on Stevie’s arm for support.

“Um, it’s just, uh … Dominic and I are splitting up.” She exhaled slowly having gotten the words out. “He’s staying at his friend’s place and will be back to get the rest of his stuff this weekend.”

“Fuck. Stevie, I’m so sorry.” Max couldn’t believe it. Not that the two of them were tied at the hip or anything, but the environment seemed to be a pretty stable ship. “That fucker.”

Stevie gulped in air and gripped the sink as if to say Jesus, give me strength. “No, no. It was me! This is all my fault.”

“Oh,” Max said, and exchanged another look with Ella, whose eyes were wide. She’d certainly been tossed in the deep end early. “Were you just not happy?”

“I think I’m …” She added a moving forward gesture, but her voice trailed off, leaving them guessing.

“Feeling like you need more?” Ella offered.

“No. Just maybe different … you know? A different kind of … thing.”

Max nodded. “You feel like the newness has worn off after all these years?”

“No,” Stevie said. “I’m not bored.”

She decided to go there. “So what exactly are you?”

“Maybe … gay.” She scrunched up her face as if to brace for something scary.

Max’s lips parted in shock, and when she looked at Ella, her eyes had tripled in size. After knowing Stevie for three years now, she hadn’t seen this coming. Not even once.

“Oh,” Ella said, settling back on her heels. “Well, that’s not something to be ashamed of. If anything, understanding yourself a little better is a cause for celebration.”

Stevie opened her eyes. “I’m not sure it feels that way.”

“Maybe you’re still getting used to the idea,” Ella said. “I’m sure Dominic is, too.”

“He’s sad and surprised, but he says he gets it. Wants me to be happy. But, fuck, you all, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next. I feel like a dandelion swept up in a tornado.”

Max placed her back against the counter and looked Stevie in the eye. “Once you’re ready, and not a moment sooner, you dip your toe in. Simple.” She lifted a shoulder like it was no big deal. “See if there are any women out there you’d like to date.”

Stevie barked a laugh. “Can you imagine me asking someone out?” She hooked a thumb. “I’ve been married and settled for over thirty years. I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know how to flirt. And who buys dinner?”

“I can imagine that the situation is daunting for you. Please know that your feelings are entirely normal. You don’t have to know any of these things,” Ella said and covered Stevie’s hand with her own.

Her words were soft, coated in warmth and sincerity.

It was a good reminder for Max to dial it down, too.

Take a gentler approach to Stevie, who wasn’t at her strongest. “You have such a fantastic support system in all of your friends.” She smiled warmly.

“And I’m one of them now, too. You have my number, and I expect you to use it. ”

That seemed to make Stevie feel better. “I just might take you up on that, and make you regret the offer.”

“Trust me. Not possible.”

Stevie grabbed a towel, dried her eyes, and exhaled slowly. “Now that my dramafest is on a brief hiatus, I think I’ll go fluff my damn hair and pinch my cheeks before the others get here. Is my eye makeup ruined?”

“Not at all,” Max said. “You’re gorgeous.” And she was.

Stevie paused and looked back before exiting the kitchen. Her features went soft. “Thank you both. I mean that.”

“Anything for you, Stevie,” Max said, knowing she’d been the backup at best. Score one for Ella and her smooth handling of the live grenade they’d just been lobbed.

“How did you do that?” Max asked quietly once they were alone. She returned to her station alongside Ella.

“Do what?” Ah. The chilly curtain had fallen firmly back in place. Ella had gone back to slicing and kept her eyes on her work. Apparently, their joining forces was only on Stevie’s behalf.

“Know exactly the words she needed to hear. Can you pass me that tray?”

“I didn’t. I just thought about what I would want someone to say to me.” She handed over the tray, and their hands brushed against each other in the transfer. Max ignored the pricks of warmth that moved up her arm. “I can finish up in here.” Ella turned, her hand on her hip.

Max held up both palms. “I think that’s my cue.

” She crossed behind Ella on her way to the living room, hearing Morgan’s voice drift in through the window that divided the two spaces.

But she had a final thought. “You know, it’s possible that all the things you seem to think about me aren’t exactly who I am. ”

“If you say so.”

Wow. The softness Ella’d reserved for Stevie was nowhere to be found in her frosty delivery to Max.

Ella clearly didn’t like her, and as much as she thought about all the things Rachel could have said about her to Ella, none of them would warrant this kind of ice out.

“So it’s going to be like that?” She sounded so juvenile, even she could hear that.

Ella shrugged, features still. “We’re in a book club together. I don’t have to like it, but I can certainly be cordial, and it seems you can be, too. What more is there to say?”

“Nothing,” Max said, her own disdain emerging. Why had she liked this girl again? “I’ll leave you the kitchen.”

“Mhmm.”

Max grabbed one of the wineglasses Stevie had set out as she passed. She wasn’t driving tonight and planned to take advantage of it, sick of life’s bullshit and ready to forget it all. Ella Whatever-Her-Last-Name-Was included.

“Hey, you,” Morgan said from her traditional spot on the couch. The wine was already open, which was a good thing. Max helped herself to a splash of red. “How was your week?”

“Shit. And I don’t use the term lightly.”

“Oh, no.” Sweet Morgan’s face pulled into a frown. “Your mom?”

“I’m not sure she’s speaking to me after I refused to play straight in front of my grandmother.

” She sighed, still feeling like she ruined the dinner, whether she’d been on the right side of the argument or not.

Everyone should get to enjoy their one day of the year.

She still had trouble forgetting the look on her mother’s face when she’d told her extended family that she was a lesbian a few years back.

Her splash of wine was gone. Another was called for.

“Do your parents like you?”