28. Chapter 28
twenty-eight
M ax stared at the clock on the wall and impatiently tapped his pen on the desk. It had been six hours since Willow and Jer had left to go to the hospital, and he’d been seething ever since. The more he attempted to control his anger and frustration at the situation, the more it seemed to consume him.
He shook his head as he replayed the scene in the brewery over and over in his mind and couldn’t help but think that everything would have gone smoothly had he still been the owner.
He never would’ve hired Jer, and they would’ve had the beer they needed for the grand opening.
He stood from his chair and paced the room. It was hard to put into words how incredibly frustrating it was that he’d been grinding nonstop for days, negotiating with suppliers, taking phone calls at all hours, doing everything he could to make sure they could open on time, and then that fool stepped in and fucked it all up.
And it wasn’t only him. The rest of the staff had also been working around the clock.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the social accounts for the pub and brewery. The latest post had over a hundred comments from people expressing their excitement for the opening. And that was nothing compared to the comments on the post announcing Fuzzy Milkshake.
Their marketing efforts had worked almost too well. And now they couldn’t deliver on the promises they’d made.
He caught himself grinding his teeth and gave his head a shake as he shoved his phone back in his pocket. He needed a plan.
If Willow brewed another batch right away, it would take two weeks for it to be ready, but they were only one week out from the grand opening. So they were going to have to make a choice between two equally shitty options: either open on time without the beer that everyone wanted, or open one week late with it.
He hated both.
Every day they spent not open, they were bleeding money. But opening without the beer was just inexcusable at this point. The only other option would be to have separate grand openings, but he hated that idea, so he refused to entertain it.
He paced the floor before letting out a heavy sigh.
The best thing to do would probably be to bump the grand opening back one week and open together with the beer everyone was excited for.
He hated it, but there was no changing what had been done.
Just then, the office door swung open, and in walked Willow. She was in the same clothes from before, but her hair was pulled back and her eyes were all red.
The anger and frustration that had been bubbling over waned as she closed the door behind her and sat in the chair at their desk.
“Are you okay?”
She lifted one shoulder and let it fall.
“How’s Jer?”
“He needed ten stitches, and he has a mild concussion, but overall, he’s okay.”
Max winced, hating the defeated look on her face. He wanted to pick her up, take her home, and hold her all night. Honestly, he probably needed the same thing .
“I just dropped him off at home so he could shower and rest,” she said, rolling her shoulders. “He’ll be in tomorrow.”
He stood from his chair and made his way behind her, then gently took her shoulders in his hands and massaged her. “I think we should do the same,” he said. “You can come to my place, and I’ll order us dinner.”
Willow shook her head. “I want to get the brewery cleaned up and start the batch over again. There won’t be enough Fuzzy Milkshake to open.”
Max nodded, shifting his plan in his head to carrying her out of there after she’d done what she wanted to do. “I know. We’re going to have to open a week late.”
Willow shook her head, then twisted in her seat to look at him. “We can’t.”
“I know it sucks,” he said. “But we don’t have a choice. Opening on time without that beer is a bad idea.”
She squeezed her eyes shut as if she had just received horrible news.
Max cocked a brow and wondered why she’d reacted that way. She’d had the same problem to mull over for the last six hours as he had. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that they’d move it back a week .
“Willow, it’s going to be fine. Jesus, you’re taking this worse than me. It’s only one week—”
“Two weeks.”
Max stared at her, trying to make it make sense. One week to the opening, two weeks to brew, so it would be one week late. What wasn’t he understanding?
“You said it takes two weeks to brew. We’ll open as soon as it’s ready. The canners can come back the day before. It’ll be fine.”
She shook her head. “Nikki’s wedding day is in two weeks. I have to be in Churchill.”
Max stared at her, shell-shocked. Was she actually considering putting off their opening for an extra week over a friend’s wedding?
And a terrible fucking friend at that?
There was a nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him it wasn’t just that she didn’t seem to care about their business but also that she was going back there, where that fucking guy was, and the whole thing made him feel nauseous.
His control slipped as the frustration flooded in, and he’d just opened his mouth to let out his exasperation when the office door swung open and Luis popped his head inside.
“Max are you— Willow, you’re back!” he said, stepping in. “How is Jer? Is he okay?”
Willow managed a smile in his direction. “He’s okay, thanks.”
“But the beer,” Luis said, his face falling. “It’s all gone.”
She nodded and sighed. “I know. We’re—”
“We’re in a meeting,” Max said, cutting her off with a hard tone and a pointed look directed at Luis.
He nodded and backed out, then Willow turned on him.
“That was very rude.”
He clenched and unclenched his jaw. “I don’t care, Willow,” he said as his entire body overheated. “Are you seriously suggesting we delay our opening because of a fucking wedding?”
“It’s my best friend’s wedding, and I promised her I’d be there,” she said, her eyes hard and cold.
Max seethed. “And didn’t she promise you she’d keep her mouth shut about you being here?”
Willow rolled her eyes. “That was my fault. All of this was my fault. And I won’t leave her without a maid of honour. She means too much to me.”
His heart cracked, but he forced his mind off it and let the anger flood in instead. “So all of this means nothing to you?”
“Of course this means something to me,” she said, her eyes searching his.
He looked away and shook his head .
She let out a heavy sigh. “Churchill’s my home. All of my friends are there. I never really wanted to be without—”
“Shane.”
She dropped her face in her hands. “This is too much.”
Max knew he shouldn’t say anything more, but he was just so fucking sick of this back and forth, not knowing how she felt or what she was planning to do. He hated being so uncertain about everything.
“Are you getting back together with him?”
Willow met his eye, held his stare for a moment, but her expression gave nothing away. Just when she opened her mouth, the office door opened again.
“Max, I was just going over the . . .”
The lead host took one look at his raging face, then mumbled an apology and scurried away.
The next person to touch that fucking door was getting stabbed through the eye with a pen.
“Answer my question,” he said.
Willow’s eyes snapped to his and narrowed. “I don’t know.”
Max shook his head and let out a humourless laugh.
They both knew she was getting back together with that prick. She’d never wanted her relationship with him to end. He’d ended it, and she was devastated. Max had been foolish enough to get involved with her and hope that she felt the same way.
But clearly, she didn’t.
“Are you angry about the opening date or about Shane?” she asked.
He stared at her, unable to contain his feelings. It was all too much. She was taking up way too much real estate in his heart and mind.
And she was leaving.
“Both,” he said, not able to meet her eye.
All the mental boxes he’d been carefully tucking away, tried desperately to keep closed, exploded off the shelves and filled up his mind. He tried to find a shovel, a broom, anything, but it was impossible. He could only manage to shut down completely.
He dropped all expression from his face, stood, closed his laptop, put it into his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He had to get out of there.
He walked to the door, opened it, and stepped through.
“Wait.”
He shook his head. “Good luck,” he said, walking out the door and closing it behind him. “You’re going to need it.”