Page 50 of Can We Skip to the Good Part?

TWENTY-FOUR

The Who Chef

“So, how is Max’s mom doing?” Ariana asked, as they stood at the sink, rinsing out their glasses so Stevie wasn’t left with all the work.

“Oh. Much better. She’s scheduled to come home later this week.

” She placed her glass on the drying rack and frowned, remembering the gift basket she’d meticulously assembled with handpicked items she’d found at a variety of stores on the main drag.

The soft hand towels. The hand-carved bars of soap from a lavender farm in Kansas.

The cooling eye mask. Lip balms and much more.

She’d hoped very much that Dr. Wyler would find comfort in the array and had been happy to put in the time.

But every time she’d tried to bring the basket by the hospital to say a quick hello, Max had a reason it wasn’t the best time.

And that was fine. It was normal to monitor visitors.

She was getting in her own head about it and wondered if seeking a second opinion might snap her out of it. She paused and turned, hesitating.

“What’s up?” Ariana asked, likely sensing her unease.

“Um. It’s probably nothing, but is it odd that Max doesn’t want me to bring a gift basket to the hospital?”

“No.” Ariana shifted her lips to the side as if pondering further. “Not entirely. Some people prefer their privacy when they are not feeling well. Max’s mom is someone who likes things to a high standard, and Max has always been the little kid wanting to please her.”

Ella nodded, latching onto the logic. It made total sense when she heard Ariana express the sentiment out loud.

“You’re right. I’m overthinking all of this, probably because I have a little relationship PTSD.

I need to work on my confidence and trusting what we have going.

” She leaned her back against the counter.

“I think I’ll just drop the basket at the front desk or send it with Max.

There’s no reason I need to deliver it personally. ”

“I think she’ll love the gesture,” Ariana said, lowering her head to find Ella’s gaze, which had been on the swirly pattern of Stevie’s aqua countertop. “You did a nice thing, and she knows that.”

She met Ariana’s gaze and forced a smile, reminding herself that none of this was about her.

“You’re completely right.” The Wyler family was going through something difficult and likely needed space.

She could easily provide that for Max and would be ready when she needed something.

Not that standing on the outside looking in was easy.

She swallowed, hands sliding into the back pockets of her faded blue jeans.

“Everything okay?” Morgan asked, joining them. Her soft demeanor made Ella melt.

“I think I’m just missing Max tonight.”

Morgan immediately opened her arms, and Ella walked into them, very much appreciating the show of friendship these women offered without a single moment of hesitation.

They’d welcomed her into their group from the start, and she was beginning to fully absorb how lucky she was. “It’s gonna be okay, E.”

She offered Morgan a squeeze and straightened. “It is. And your support, all of you,” she said, realizing that Stevie and Olive were off to the side looking on with genuine sincerity. “Since the moment I arrived at that first meeting, it has meant the world to me.”

Ariana shrugged. “We’ll always be here for each other. That’s what we do.”

“I’ve never said this before, but you all are my escape,” Olive said, stepping forward. “The one night a week when all the stress can just stay the hell outside while I come in and spend time with my friends and my books. I treasure each of you.”

“Well, now I’m all choked up,” Morgan said, hugging Olive this time.

“We have a definite lovefest on our hands,” Ariana remarked.

“I have an idea,” Stevie said. “Let’s do it all again next week.” She looked at Ella. “And maybe Max will be back to join us.”

“I think she will,” Ella told her, reaching out to squeeze her hand.

She went home that night and, instead of sketching on her tablet or checking her email, as she usually did, she picked up another book and cracked its spine.

A romance, of course. The kind with a slow burn, a stubborn main character, and an ending that would make it all worthwhile.

She wanted to lose herself in something positive, in the promise of happily ever after, a reminder that it could be hers, too.

Not just on the page, but in real life. Did she think of Max as she read the professions of love three hours later?

She absolutely did. And when she drifted off to sleep early that morning, it was with a hopeful smile on her lips and a nagging feeling in her chest that she chose to ignore.

The private hospital room was quiet but not hushed, dimly lit by a single wall sconce that cast a soft, amber glow across the pale linoleum floor.

Max had grown accustomed to the sounds over the past few days.

The machines near the bed hummed steadily, broken only by the gentle hiss of oxygen and the faint, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor.

All precautionary. Her mother was making significant progress, and her vitals had stabilized, pleasing the doctors.

Tonight, Max sat in the corner, curled into the half-broken recliner like she was trying to take up less space than needed, her eyes fixed on the slow rise and fall of her mother’s chest. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and something sweet, maybe the flowers her father had left on the windowsill, already beginning to wilt.

She checked her phone to find a goodnight message from Ella.

She placed the screen against her chest, a makeshift embrace and the only way to hold Ella close in this moment.

She’d tested the waters with her mother, who’d sucked her teeth and frowned when she mentioned Ella swinging by with her gift basket.

“No, no, no,” she’d said automatically. “Tell her thank you, but we’re okay.”

“Is this because she’s a woman I’m dating?”

“Let’s not do this right now, Maxine. I’m tired.”

“I know. But can you just tell me why?” Max asked. She knew why, and it was because Max and Ella weren’t her ideal Christmas card.

“I know she’s a nice enough woman,” her mother had said, “but why do we need her here with us when things are hard? This is family time. If it’s too hard for you to be here with me, I understand.”

The guilt was out in full force, which, of course, was by design.

With a deep breath, Max closed her eyes and wished for better days ahead—her mother working on her laptop at the kitchen table, the sun setting on the horizon as she drove Ella to that cute little lakeside restaurant they’d talked about trying out, or even something as simple as Ella’s arms around her as she fell asleep that night.

Maybe she’d manifested it, but letting herself into her apartment and seeing Ella standing in her kitchen later that night felt like an answered prayer.

“Hi,” Ella said. “I know you weren’t expecting me, but I just did a little tidying up, and thought I’d linger since you said you were on your way home soon. I can just say hi and get out of your hair. You must be tired.”

Max didn’t hesitate. She dropped her bag and walked straight to Ella, hauling her in and kissing her with determination, a glass of crisp, cool water for the thirsty.

She knew she’d missed her for these handful of days, but seeing her face, smelling her hair, put in perspective how much .

“You don’t have to go anywhere,” Max said, smoothing her hair.

“I’m exhausted and my brain is mush, but it would be nice to just … be.”

Ella reached up and stroked her hair, searching her gaze, probably trying to assess how she was. “I would love to stay. What can I get for you? A drink? A snack? Wanna just lights out and crash?”

“I am kind of hungry.” Max looked around the kitchen, trying to recall what she had on hand.

“Why don’t I make you one of my favorite breakfast tacos? Don’t get too excited. It’s the only thing I make.”

“I’m listening.”

“We’re talking eggs, bacon, and so much cheese you won’t believe it all packed in a warm tortilla.”

“I’m about to cry that sounds so amazing, but I don’t have half of those ingredients.”

“You’re in luck. I brought some groceries by in case you hadn’t had a chance.”

Max covered her face in disbelief. “I’m in awe right now.”

Ella held up a hand. “If that seems too forward, please just say so. I wanted to make this week easier on you, but I’m also well aware that you might not want me slipping in and out of your apartment.”

“But that’s exactly what I want.”

It felt like air was sucked out of the room. They each went still and stared at each other until a small smile crept onto Ella’s face and grew. “It is?” Her voice was tiny and cute.

“Yeah,” Max said, the stress of the day falling right off of her with that utterance. This right here was everything she needed.

“Good,” Ella nodded as if allowing it to sink in as she gathered the ingredients from Max’s fridge. “Sit down. I got this.”

“It doesn’t feel right to just sit and watch you cook. Here.” She moved around the kitchen, grabbing a pan, a spatula, and anything else she could think of that Ella might need. “I’m the chef’s assistant.”

“My sous chef,” Ella said.

“Your who chef?”

They shared a laugh, which came way too easily for such a simple quip. But it was late, they were punchy, and so damn happy to see each other.