22. Chapter 22 #2
It had kept me up all night, planning how to let him down easy when confrontation terrified me. I’d rehearsed the script countless times, fine-tuned each word to make sure it wouldn’t come across as anything personal against him.
Max worked his jaw back and forth, as if chewing over my words. “And how did he react to that?”
I flung my arms up in a helpless gesture, nearly sending my poor earbud on an airborne tour of the laundry room. “At first he seemed to handle it great. He agreed and I thought that was that.”
I shuddered, partly from rage, partly from shame as the memories continued pouring in.
My stomach churned and my legs itched to pace the room.
“The next day, Besserman quit, and another employee showed me an article that had been published online about me and my bakery. It was technically anonymous, but I knew it had to be Besserman who wrote it. Or he was the informant for the actual writer, I guess.”
The headline had burned itself into my brain since that day.
Why will Double Dekker Cakery never make it past the double digits?
The answer is in the name. Sure, we’d technically been number ten on the list of top ten bakeries, but considering how new we were and how many bakeries there were in Pittsburgh, that was still an accomplishment.
“It talked about how my bakery was destined to be mediocre, even with its delicious treats, because I was the one running it. What bakery could succeed with a boss who dates her subordinates, disregards situations that would lead to potential lawsuits, and is too cheap to update her kitchen appliances?”
The adjectives Besserman had used came to mind, and I scrunched my eyes against them as they prickled with the familiar threat of tears. Scatter-brained. Irresponsible. Careless.
Max’s voice sizzled with more anger than I thought him capable of. “Are those other accusations as bogus as the dating one?”
I shrugged, my chin trembling as I peeked at Max’s stormy expression.
“He wasn’t wrong. I’d bring all the leftovers we couldn’t use to soup kitchens at the end of the day.
Technically, since I can’t guarantee that they’ll handle the food properly, someone could get food poisoning or something and sue me or my bakery. ”
It was the very reason the hotel I worked at during culinary school gave for why they tossed their leftovers instead of donating them or giving them away, and I’d always thought it was bogus.
The odds of getting any kind of food poisoning from a pastry were incredibly low.
Maybe when it came to mousses or desserts that needed to be refrigerated, but most of what I gave away were donuts, breads, and cakes. To me, the risk was worth it.
“As for the kitchen appliances” —my cheeks heated in shame— “one of my ovens was ancient and temperamental. I had to decide whether to upgrade it or give my employees Christmas bonuses.”
“And you chose the bonuses,” Max finished.
I nodded, swallowing hard in an attempt to take the lump that had formed in my throat with it. “Some businesswoman I am, huh?”
“I think the world needs more businesswomen like you, Dekker.”
I snorted and swiped at my eyes, which were thankfully still dry.
“Try telling that to the residents of Pittsburgh. Business took a hit immediately. And when I confronted Besserman” —I paused, reigning in my emotions, my voice quivering— “he denied writing the article, though he agreed with everything it said. When I argued that I was the one who didn’t want to keep dating each other because it was weird as his boss, he told me I wasn’t relationship material anyway, so he wouldn’t waste his time with me, either. ”
That had been the kick when I was already down. In the span of a few days, Besserman had managed to target my pride and joy, rip it up, and then prey on my personal insecurities all in one go.
A washer buzzed angrily two rows away. I focused intently on the ceiling, my earbud twisting faster and faster between my fingers.
“I guess that was the last straw. If business kept declining, I’d have to let employees go.
I was already so lonely anyway with my parents traveling the world and Lex here in Detroit, so selling the one thing that had been keeping me in Pittsburgh didn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore.
I figured the bakery was better off without such a failure running it. ”
The bakery deserved better. My employees deserved better.
I’d shut down after those two days from Hell, barely able to pull myself out of bed to work at the place that used to give me so much purpose.
The place failing before my eyes as I struggled to do even the simplest managerial tasks.
Cutting myself free from it seemed like the only solution.
But since leaving it behind, I’d often wondered if I’d only slapped duct tape on a leaky pipe.
“Hey.” Max shuffled to face me completely, his crossed legs now brushing my knee. “You didn’t fail. Not even close.”
I shook my head, stubborn tears pooling along my lashes.
“If I’d never accepted that date or brought the food to the soup kitchens, or if I’d upgraded that stupid oven, my bakery could’ve done better—and that’s not even considering all the boss duties I couldn’t handle.
” My voice fell to a whimper, nearly drowned out by the whirring of the washers and tumbling of the dryers. “It’s my fault, Max.”
“No. It isn’t.”
I paused at the strength of his voice, the surety in his tone. The sheer authority that made tendrils of heat curl in my belly. This was his Special Agent Fuentes voice. It had to be. It left no room for argument, even if I wanted to.
“This Besserman guy is not only a donkey” —he did not say donkey — “but wrong on all accounts. You’re a great bakery owner because you care about your employees, something there isn’t enough of, if you ask me.
” He wiped away an errant tear, his touch as comforting as it was torturous.
Allowing the smallest taste of the forbidden fruit before it disappeared from reach.
“And for what it’s worth, I think you’re perfect relationship material. ”
Salted caramel and fudge nuggets , how was I supposed to cope with him saying something like that without melting into putty in his hands? Fate was testing my self-control today, and I was quickly losing the battle. One word from him. That was all it would take, and I’d be his.
His gaze strayed to my mouth before darting back up. As if realizing he’d scooted closer, he surreptitiously leaned back on his hands, safely out of my reach. “After all, you’ll never cheat. You’re too busy sleeping.”
“Hey!”
My jaw dropped, and I lunged for him. Originally with the intent to cuff him playfully for his razzing, but that plan fizzled faster than Pop Rocks in water when my overzealousness sent me to my knees. At the same time, my hands reflexively slapped down to support my weight.
Unfortunately, they didn’t hit the floor like I’d intended.
No, no. That would be too merciful. That would imply that the Powers That Be didn’t have a personal vendetta against me, which they clearly did. Because where did my hands land instead?
Right. In. Max’s. Lap.
He curled inward with an oof , as anyone with a crotch would when a hand lands dangerously close to their crown jewels. This, however, only brought the goods closer to my splayed fingers.
I yelled something unintelligible and scrambled backward so fast I smacked into the wall I’d just left.
There wasn’t a mode of transportation in the universe that could’ve gotten me out of there fast enough.
My only hope was for some merciful soul to invent time travel in the future and come back to blip me out of here before I did anything worse.
Unsurprisingly, that didn’t happen.
Nope. I was left to deal with the fallout of my clumsiness and rotten luck. I couldn’t even flee the room, because then I’d have musty undies and the horrible memory of nearly groping Max.
“Oh my—I almost—I didn’t mean—I’m so—” I sputtered nonsensically before settling on a wide-eyed “ahhhhhhh” from the shriveled-up depths of my soul.
Max laughed, blessedly not already on his way to press charges.
In fact, he still sat in front of me, though he’d shifted position to have his feet on the ground and knees bent to protect from any other assaults.
“Well, that was exciting! Usually I’d say to buy me dinner first, but you did feed me lasagna, so… ”
I stared at him in dumb shock, the corners of my mouth twitching because my conscience and sense of humor couldn’t decide whether smiling would be inappropriate. “You’re laughing ? I am mortified , Max.”
He curbed his amusement down to a faint smile. “It was clearly an accident, Chef.”
“Yeah, an embarrassing accident.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “For now, maybe, but think of the inside jokes we’ll have later because of it.”
“If that’s the case, we’ll have nothing but inside jokes at the rate I’m going.” I shook my head, losing the fight against my smile. “I don’t know how you can be so unruffled about everything, but I admire it.”
He dipped his head to the side, one corner of his mouth still dimpling in a smile. “Really? It drives lots of people nuts.”
I narrowed my eyes and searched for the hidden cameras, because clearly I was getting Punk’d at this point.
Who on earth would have a problem with Max’s easy-going nature?
Besides how it created such an inequality in his last relationship, I couldn’t see how anyone would get irritated because of it.
Someone entered the laundry room, only the top of their pink-haired head visible as they moved their clothes out of a washer.
I lowered my voice. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope.” He huffed softly, his smile a tad melancholy. “It was an even bigger problem when I was a kid. I was a bit of a loose cannon.”
“ You ? Really?”
He laughed, possibly misinterpreting my disbelief for sarcasm. “I was, I swear. I wasn’t the oldest of my siblings, so I didn’t have the weight of responsibility, but I wasn’t the youngest who naturally got the most attention, either, so I’d find ways to get it. Usually by getting into trouble.”
I grimaced on behalf of his parents. If Max decided to channel his boundless energy into mischief, he’d be a force to be reckoned with.
“Yeah, exactly.” He pursed his lips in my direction, encompassing my facial expression. “I didn’t ‘see the light,’ so to speak, until the summer of my freshman year at Abuela’s . My tío Samuel came to stay with her as well.”
When he paused, my curiosity burst out of my mouth. “So what happened? Did you have a come to Jesus moment?”
“I guess you could say that.” He chuckled and cast a backward glance in the direction of the newcomer when they slammed their dryer door shut.
“Let’s just say that after he found me sleeping behind the shed when I was supposed to be weeding the garden, he helped me see how I was living beneath my potential and privileges with the name and heritage I was given.
There’s a difference between not sweating the small stuff and not caring about anything. ”
“Oof.”
“Oh, but it gets worse.” He adjusted his position to rest his elbows on his knees.
“He told me I was so focused on going with the flow that I didn’t realize the flow was a riptide taking me out to sea.
In this case the sea was indifference about everything and everyone, and I’d drown in it without anyone to save me. ”
I blinked hard, meeting his eyes. “Ouch. That’s harsh.”
He snorted. “No kidding. It was harsh enough for me to reevaluate my life, at least, and find the balance between letting go of what didn’t matter and fighting for what did.” He offered a self-deprecating smile. “Obviously I haven’t mastered that quite yet, but I’ve improved a lot.”
My thoughts turned to Max’s friend from high school, the one who’d fallen prey to addiction. How different would Max’s life look if he’d gone along with his friend?
That, I didn’t want to think about.
His story explained a lot, though. How someone who never seemed bothered by anything could take on drug dealers every day.
If only I could stop caring about unimportant things.
Instead, I internalized everything until something that shouldn’t matter seemed like a huge deal.
Like whether using a period while texting would come off as passive aggressive if I don’t counter it with an exclamation point in the next sentence.
“For what it’s worth” —I waited until the door closed behind the newcomer as they left, trying desperately to ignore the way my pulse hiccupped when Max’s eyes met mine— “I think both your tío and your namesake would be proud of the man you’ve become.”
He smiled softly, eyes flicking over my face. “I hope so.”
“I know so.”
Technically I didn’t know , but they’d be foolish not to be proud of Max.
He was brave, funny, kind, and disciplined.
He prioritized problems and set others at ease.
If I, one of the most awkward and perpetually uncomfortable people I knew, felt comfortable and safe around him, that had to mean something , right?
We sat in companionable silence for a few heartbeats, smiling at each other like weirdos while warm fuzzies invaded my chest cavity. Safety . That’s what this feeling was. Safety and contentment.
When one of the dryers above our heads buzzed, I jolted.
Max pointed toward my phone, which still sat on the floor by my leg. “So… baking shows?”