“No, Landon, you should not get a cake,” Max replied at the same time Holden and Sadie said, “Good idea!” and “Yes, and candles, too!”
Landon was gone in a flash and Max put a hand to his forehead, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He suddenly had a pounding headache, and his fingers itched for the yarn and needles in his bag. The meditative clicking sounds and predictable rhythm of knitting calmed him better than anything else could. But obviously now was not the time for that.
“Go on, open it up,” Holden said, sitting on the arm of the small sofa in the room.
“Being a Christmas baby can be tough, so Max’s mom always wanted to make sure he got a proper birthday celebration, too,” he said to Sadie. “And even though she’s gone, I’ve continued the tradition.”
What Max wanted to say was that Holden had only started remembering his birthday in the past couple of years. Before that, Holden Brody was far too self-centered, unavailable, and often drunk to keep something so mundane as his only son’s birthday top of mind.
“Look, Dad, thanks for dropping by, but Sadie and I have torehearse. Maybe we can do this later?” He set the wrapped gift, unopened, against the rehearsal room’s back wall.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Sadie glanced between Max and the gift. “Your dad went to all the trouble...”
Holden put a hand up. “It’s fine, Sadie. Max is a workaholic—like his dad.” He winked then. “You can bring it to Christmas dinner, Maxy.” Then Holden turned to Sadie. “And that just gave me a great idea! Sadie, why don’t you join us? For Christmas dinner? Max’s sister, Becca, is in England and won’t make it home this year, and if you don’t come it will just be the two of us at the huge dining room table.”
Sadie was momentarily speechless, and she gave Max a searching look.
“Dad, I’m sure Sadie has her own plans,” Max said.
“Well, I don’t, actually. I’m from Milwaukee, so I can’t get there and get back in time for the next show.” Sadie gave Max another glance, trying to gauge his reaction, but he kept his face blank. He was confused about why Sadie would agree to spend Christmas dinner with him when she could barely seem to stand being in his presence. Just another example of how he would never really understand Sadie Hunter.
“It’s settled, then.” Holden clapped his hands on his denim-clad thighs. “Well, it isn’t every day I get to have Christmas dinner with ‘hashtag’ Saxie. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me, too,” Sadie said, grinning at Holden. “My gran is possibly your biggest fan. She’ll be beside herself to know how I’m spending Christmas this year.”
Max stayed silent, his grip on the neck of his guitar tight enough the strings pressed painfully into his palm. Hewondered if this was why Sadie agreed to dinner—a feather in her cap, to say she’d spent Christmas with “the great Holden Brody.” That was one way to make it in this town—exploiting your networks however you could.
“If you don’t mind, close the door on the way out,” Max said to his dad, the edge still in his voice.
Holden nodded. “Bye, son. And Happy Birthday.”
Max looked down at his guitar, waiting to hear the door latch click. The room went quiet, Max now alone with Sadie.
“You two could not look more alike,” Sadie said, breaking the silence. “And he really knows how to fill a room, doesn’t he? He has unbelievable stage presence even when he’s not onstage.”
When Max didn’t respond, Sadie walked over to the box leaning against the wall, limping slightly because of her ankle.
“It looks like a guitar, maybe?”
“It is a guitar.” Max wished he could ignore the gift. “But I already have a guitar. See?” He treasured the instrument in his hands because of the person who had gifted it to him. Max wondered if his father even remembered where this guitar had come from, and why trying to replace it was like a slap in the face for his son.
“Aren’t you curious?” she asked, touching the wrapping paper.
“Leave it alone, Sadie,” Max said, his voice sharp. He knew he shouldn’t take his frustrations out on her, but his dad always had this effect on him. He hated the truth of that as much as how it felt. “Just for once, can you leave it alone?”
Sadie crossed her arms tightly over her chest, the wrapping paper forgotten. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He sighed wearily. The last thing he needed was another fight with Sadie. “It means we have work to do. If we don’t get this nailed down we won’t win, and then we both go home. Is that what you want?”
“Of course not.” She stood there for a moment longer and then limped back over to the piano and sat down, placing her fingers on the keys. Max could only imagine what she was thinking, and rightfully so—that he was spoiled and entitled. What sort of son didn’t open his father’s birthday gift?
But that wasn’t his whole story, and he didn’t know how to explain it to Sadie. So he decided to focus on the music, because that was the only thing he could control, especially now that Holden had invited Sadie over for Christmas dinner. He was not prepared for his worlds to collide like that.
Max strummed the opening sequence for the cover song, and with one last glance at his father’s gift, he turned his attention to Sadie. Her fingers were gentle yet confident on the keys, and when she began singing goosebumps ran up and down Max’s arms.Damn, could she sing. It was pure talent—the sort of raw voice that came along so rarely you couldn’t help but be mesmerized by it. If she could shake her insecurities and harness that nervous energy, she would take over Nashville.
He joined her in the second verse, their voices melding flawlessly. They had slowed the song way down, as they’d done with “Islands in the Stream,” and Max knew even JohnnyKing, also a fan favorite, couldn’t beat this thing he and Sadie had going. It was magical, just like the judges said. They may not have been a good match without the music (understatement of the century, Max), but when they sang together, there was nowhere else Max would rather be.
8
