Page 28 of Can We Skip to the Good Part?
Max looked at her, lips parted in disbelief. “Why do you consistently question my intentions? I promise they’re good. I just don’t understand instant conviction. Don’t I at least deserve a firsthand chance?”
Ella blinked, relenting. “It’s not like I think you’recompletelyawful.”
Max straightened, one arm bracing against her cart. “Wow. Not helping.”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that.” Ella pinched the bridge of her nose, fending off guilt. “I realize you’re not a bad person. But I’m a loyal friend and I remember Rach crying on the phone over things you said or did and?—”
Max held up a hand. In the flash of motion, Ella saw that her nails were done. Short and manicured with a mauve polish.They’d been a paler pink last week. “Like what? Just for learning purposes.”
Ella snatched the first available memory. “Well, you left her at that birthday party with no way to get home.”
Max frowned. She looked back and forth as if piecing together the meaning. “Christine’sbirthday? Is that what you’re talking about? I did leave, but only because Rachel announced to the room that I wasn’t paying enough attention to her because I greeted a former client. She then informed me she never wanted to see me again.”
“I don’t think that’s?—”
Max continued calmly. “She literally told me to leave in front of everyone, which was one of the more embarrassing moments of my life.” Max frowned and shook her head, a new thought hitting. “And she drove us there. I was the one who had to call for a ride.”
Ella paused, not sure what to do with that information. Rachelwasprone to hyperbole. They stared at each other. “I heard it differently.”
“I can tell,” Max said quietly with a lacing of disappointment. “And that’s okay. I’ll let you shop.”
“All right,” Ella said, her brain foraging for understanding. It was clear that the details she’d just imparted had hurt Max’s feelings, and when she balanced that with the sad version of Rachel, she wasn’t sure which one deserved her sympathy. Feeling out of her depth with Max and depressed about her meager bank account, Ella finished her shopping and made her way to the front of the store.
One of the three cashiers with open lines waved her over immediately. “A woman left these here for you.”
“Me?”
The young cashier nodded and handed her a bag. “Oh. Well, thank you,” Ella said, accepting in confusion. She peeked insideand paused at the sight: a large carton of plump green grapes. She tried to swallow against the uncomfortable guilt. Max didn’t owe her anything. Yet, even amid their uncomfortable conversation, she’d offered an olive branch. “She bought me grapes,” she murmured. What the hell was she supposed to do with that?
Ella paid for her remaining groceries with a shaky hand and an uncomfortable lump in her throat. She was thrown and floundering in more ways than one. She didn’t have a grip on her place in this world or even her professional trajectory, but maybe the picture she’d constructed of Max wasn’t entirely accurate. No one was all bad, right? She held the carton of grapes to her chest, humbly realizing that maybe she didn’t have anything figured out. Anything at all.
SEVEN
The Pact
Something important was happening at Doug’s Books. Ella peered through her windshield at the line that drifted from inside the shop, out the door, and down the sidewalk. She’d stopped by to pick up copies of the book club’s next two selections and drop off a newly designed flyer for her services. Doug had made it clear that the corkboard was a free-for-all. She’d illustrated the page and brought it to life on her tablet, opting for a bookish and fun aesthetic rather than a corporate and symmetrical one. Maybe she’d tap into her creative juices a bit more and search out avenues that could ignite her passion for art once again. Even just making the flyer had made her feel more like herself than she had in, well, years. Corporate work paid the bills, but what if there was a way to do that with work she actually loved?
She excused her way around the line, made up of mostly women, until she found enough space to make her way up to the front desk.
“Got your books,” Doug said over the top of his readers and reached beneath the counter, producing the two brightly colored romance novels with the cute little couples on the front.
“Thanks. What’s going on today?”
“Alexandra Raymond is here for a signing. My sister, Polly, knows her mom, Ruth Anne, so I managed to secure a date on her schedule. Like getting tickets to the Eras tour.”
“Oh, wow, Doug.” She swiveled to him, hand on hip. “You’re up on your pop culture.”
“The Swifties are big readers. I have to know my clients. Plus,Midnightsis an intellectually advanced album.”
“You continue to surprise me, D-Man.”
“Well, don’t get a big head about it,” he said with a sour look on his face. “And I don’t like that nickname, either.” The whole exchange was so very Doug that she gave herself a celebratory squeeze, as a throng of happy women snuck by her clutching books. She surveyed the buzzing scene, impressed at how many people they’d managed to squeeze into the store, including two women in business suits who seemed to be in charge of the line and the signing rules. Of course, the secret service of the publishing world. Ella was intrigued and a little jealous of the people in line.
“Maybe I should grab a book and have it signed.” Honestly, her newfound love of romance novels had been her lifeline lately. Whenever her own life had her stressed, she picked up one of the book club selections and let herself drift into the land of happy people kissing. Doug reached behind the counter and produced a copy of the book on the poster. “A scientist and a barista fall in love. At least, that’s what I’m told.”
“Not a romance reader, Doug?”
“I read what I want to read.” He waved her off, his grumpy cheeks colored pink. After he’d rung her up, Ella, once again, scooted past the impressive line to the community corkboard and tacked up her flyer.
