Chapter 9 #2
Hard to put on a scale. You coming or not, Dillinger?
Annie’s cheeks heated at the sound of Max’s voice in her head forming each syllable of her surname.
Annie 9:57 AM
Be there in twenty :)
She got dressed in record speed, quickly sliding into her favorite pair of jeans and a mauve sweater she knew brought out the natural blush in her cheeks.
She thundered down the back steps, hopping the last step into the kitchen where her parents were eating breakfast at the counter, the New York Times spread open to the right of her dad, and the latest copy of Better Homes and Gardens magazine in her mother’s hands.
“Where are you off to? No breakfast?” her mother asked, eyes fixed on the glossy pages of the magazine.
Annie stepped into the mudroom, reaching for her boots, the cute lace-up brown ones that gave her a little extra height. “I’m heading over to Max’s for breakfast,” she called over her shoulder.
“Who’s Max?” her dad asked.
“Why?” her mother followed.
Annie pulled hard on the final knot, stepping back into the kitchen to grab her keys from the basket resting on top of the weird built-in desk no one had ever used for its intended purpose.
“Because she invited me?” Annie offered, annoyed that her parents were partaking in their usual ritual of asking her one thousand questions anytime she left the house.
Her mother looked up at her over the rim of her reading glasses. “You’ll be back in time for our nail appointment? It’s at four thirty. That was the earliest Avery could do.”
“Yeah.” Annie shoved her arm into her jacket. “I don’t think breakfast is going to take five and a half hours,” she said sarcastically.
Her mothers voice dripped with annoyance as she asked, “When will you be home?”
Annie couldn’t help the snark that snaked its way into her words. “Sometime after breakfast but before the nail appointment.”
Her mother rolled her eyes in exactly the same way that all of the Dillinger children had inherited. “God forbid your mother ask some clarifying questions, Annie.”
“Any more? Or am I free to go?” She placed a hand on her cocked hip, petulance surging through her in a way that only being around her family could bring out.
Heat rose inside her, drowning out her ability to tolerate her mother’s questions, a skill that had dwindled with each passing month Annie remained living with them.
“No more questions,” her mother muttered.
“Have fun,” her dad called as Annie reached for the door leading to the garage.
She made the short drive across town, arriving at the old house perched at the top of the hill.
Once again, she parked on the street, heeding Max’s warning about the driveway being a death trap in winter.
Annie touched up her makeup in the rearview mirror, making sure every wisp of hair was expertly slicked back into her low ponytail.
As she climbed the flagstone steps leading to the porch, Annie couldn’t help the way her heart rate increased at the thought of seeing Max, and she knew exactly why.
It wasn’t a secret to them that they liked each other. But Annie was still healing, still on that timeline Max had given her that night at the country club, and she still had one month to go.
She was about to climb the stairs to the entrance of Max’s second-story apartment when the door in front of her opened up and Max popped out.
“Hi!” she said, an excited smile firmly in place.
“We’re in Lynn’s apartment. She’s got a bigger kitchen than I do.
” Max stepped out onto the porch, and for a moment Annie completely forgot to control her gaze, letting it run the length of her long, lean legs in the tightest spandex shorts she had ever seen.
She gulped, her eyes meeting Max’s, who only grinned.
“Come on in.” Max held the door open for Annie, the fabric of her black oversized hoodie shifting with her movements.
Once inside, Annie removed her boots and her coat. “Cute sweater. That color looks really good on you,” Max said, gesturing for Annie to follow her down the front hall into the open kitchen-dining area. Annie’s cheeks burned with the heat of her compliment and the success of her sweater choice.
Lynn was seated at the dining room table, a tray of miniature items in front of her. Glasses low on her nose as she glanced up.
“Annie’s here,” Max announced, and Annie couldn’t help but notice the way her name slid so effortlessly off Max’s tongue.
“Hi,” Annie said with a wave.
Max gestured to the table. Now that Annie was looking closely, she noticed an array of different crafts laid out.
“Welcome to our crafts and waffles morning.” Max’s smile was that same one from Christmas, the photo of her on the dock she had sent Annie, the one Annie had a habit of going back and looking at more frequently than she would like to admit.
“Pick your poison.” Lynn smirked, nodding to the crafts as she held a tiny baguette and a thin-tipped paintbrush in front of her.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d be into, so I just picked up a few little kits when we stopped at the craft store on the way home from the gym this morning.”
Annie’s gaze swept over the table, taking in the assortment of kits.
The overwhelming sense of care Max had put into thinking of her made the palms of her hands a little sweaty.
“This is—” She swallowed hard, trying not to attach too much to a simple act.
“That was really sweet of you. I’m definitely into that coloring book. ”
An easy grin played on Max’s lips. “All yours,” she said, sliding the items towards the empty seat in front of Annie.
There was a long moment where their eyes stayed locked, Annie studying the way the gray-blue of Max’s gaze reflected light in the room and the exact angle of her square jaw.
“Max, I think something might be burning,” Lynn said, never looking away from the ciabatta she was now painting.
“Shit,” Max said, spinning and rushing into the kitchen where a waffle iron was plugged in near the stove. Annie giggled as she slid into the seat, opening the pack of markers Max had slid along with the coloring book.
“She’s easily distracted by shiny objects.” Lynn chuckled
“We’re all good!” Max called from the kitchen. “It was the little bits that drizzled over the side that burned, no biggie.”
“Thanks for letting me crash your breakfast,” Annie said sheepishly. “Max told me that Saturday mornings are your thing.”
Lynn shrugged, her long brown and gray-streaked hair moving with the motion. “Happy to share the time. Max rarely brings new people around, let alone to bonfire nights and Saturday morning breakfasts.”
Annie didn’t know Lynn well enough to understand the true intent behind that statement.
But to her, this was another check mark on the growing list of other green check marks in her mind when she thought of Max.
She had been collecting them for weeks now, each of them confirming that what she had been picking up on was true—there was an undeniable depth below their surface-level flirting.
“She’s not someone who lets other people in easily, is she?” Annie asked quietly, flipping the coloring book open, leafing through the pages until one caught her interest.
“Understatement of the year,” Lynn said softly.
They worked together quietly, Lynn continuing to paint miniature loaves of bread while Annie worked her way through the geometric floral pattern she had selected.
“Food coming in hot,” Max called, entering the dining area, and a moment later she set two plates down on the table, one in front of Lynn and one in front of Annie, before ducking back into the kitchen.
The plate itself consisted of two waffles covered with sliced strawberries and bananas, a dollop of what looked like whipped cream on the side, and a tiny cup of syrup.
But it was the waffle that gave Annie pause.
It was far from the usual golden-brown color and lacked the expected fluffiness.
She shot a glance at Lynn, whose lips pursed in a hidden smile as she quickly looked away.
“Let me know what you think. I’ve been working on my recipe.” Max smiled eagerly, watching as Annie loaded up her bite. She tried to power through, she really did, but then the waffle came in contact with her taste buds.
“It’s…it’s good,” she lied as she swallowed the gummy piece of food that somehow managed to taste like nothing.
Lynn snorted, hiding the laugh in a cough.
“You’re lying.”
To Annie’s surprise, a mischievous look spread across Max’s face, almost as if she were pleased Annie hadn’t been able to conceal her true response. She thought, trying to determine the most tactful way to tell Max that her waffles tasted like ass.
“You’re right. I’ve never been a good liar. What’s in your recipe? I can confirm I’ve never tasted anything quite like these.” There, she thought, there was definitely truth in that statement.
“They’re protein waffles,” Max said. She took a bite, her face twisting as she forced herself to swallow. “These are pretty disgusting…aren’t they?” She grimaced, laughing as she wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Why didn’t you tell me these are terrible, Lynn?”
Lynn laughed, picking at the berries and whipped cream. “You’re always so proud of them. I didn’t have the heart to tell you.”
“I clearly had no problem with that.” Annie grinned, popping a strawberry into her mouth. “Lucky for you, mine are delicious.” She got to her feet, looking at Lynn. “I assume you have the baking basics?”
“Corner cabinet, everything is labeled. Thank you for saving us from Max’s culinary experiments.”
Annie got to her feet, stepping towards the kitchen, but not before placing a hand on Max’s shoulder.
“Work on your paint-by-numbers; I’ve got things from here.
” In a moment of boldness, she caught Max’s eye and winked, giving her shoulder a squeeze, enjoying the slight tinge of redness that flared across her cheeks.
“These waffles better live up to the hype,” Max grumbled, reaching for the paints.