“Come on. It was afakeproposal.”
“That’s not what I mean! It wasn’t about the proposal.” She lowered her voice. “We can’t go back in time. I know that.” She also knew that if shecouldgo back in time, she would have told him everything, the night they wonStarmaker, about why she was so upset, why she had to take off so fast. But it was too late for that. “And things aren’t great between us, but we still have to see things through. I wish you would come back withme and finish what we started. You know that’s why I’m here, Max. To bring you back.”
Max just nodded and looked away again—even thoughhehad asked her to tell him what was on her mind.
Sadie put down her fork.
“That’s it? No comment?”
“Nope,” he said.
She released a blustering sigh. “You’re impossible, Max, did you know that?”
“You keep telling me so. And, well, you’re not exactly... possible,” Max muttered. Sadie glanced at him sideways and suddenly felt a tipsy giggle build up inside her.
“I’m not exactly...possible?”
He just shook his head and frowned. Sadie took another bite of her soup and looked around at the full tavern. There was a warm buzz in the air as conversations rose around them and someone put Willie Nelson’s version of “Pretty Paper” on the juke. It was one of her favorite Christmas songs and helped pull her back from the edge of her dark mood. She hummed along for a bar and thought of her gran—but this time, it didn’t feel like a knife was stabbing into her heart. She could almost hear her gran’s voice, telling her to get over what was bothering her. “You can be right, or you can be happy, Sadie Jane,” Gran always used to tell her. Max wasn’t going to budge, at least right now. But she was in a tiny, snowy town that was actually quite quaint. She was eating good food and listening to good music. Max could be his miserable, broody self—but maybe she could try to be happy, for just a little while? She turned to him. “Aside from you being here,” she quipped, “this place is not half bad, you know.”
“It’s not even a little bit bad,” Max said. “There’s a reason I want to stay. It’s good here. Forme.” His gaze moved up, to a space above the mirror behind the bar, where a series of photos were affixed.
“I guess that’s all that matters. What works foryou,” she countered, immediately forgetting about her decision to try to have a good time.
“And why exactly do you think it would be right foryouto keep up this charade?”
“We don’t all have a standing invitation to sing at the Grand Ole Opry, Max.”
“I don’t have astanding invitationto—”
“But you will. And you know it. You won’t even have to do anything to get it, either. It’s in your bloodline. You’re Holden Brody’s son. You can disappear for a year and come back and everyone will welcome you with open arms.”
“That’s bullshit,” he said in a low voice. “I work hard.”
“So that spot onStarmaker, the fact that they were contractually obligated to not kick you off until the final episode—you earned that?”
“Hey. You seem to be forgetting you might have been kicked off if it weren’t for me.”
“Exactly! Because my way wasn’t paved for me. Andyouseem to be forgetting you didn’t stand a chance against Johnny King if it hadn’t been for me. Forus.”
“Is this why you came here? To rehash the past?”
“No. I came here to bring you back. And then—”
“And then what, Sadie? And then we do our song and never talk to each other again?”
He was staring at her so intently, and she didn’t know whythe stab of sadness was back. Did the idea of never speaking to Max Brody again make her that miserable? Sadie watched Max as his eyes returned to the space above the bar. She followed his gaze and it landed on a black-and-white photo of a man and a woman standing on the tavern stage, singing into the same microphone, eyes closed, rapt.
Sadie was about to ask him about the passionate couple, when Kara returned, a bit breathless now. “You two want a couple more whiskeys?”
“Fine. Why not?” Max said. “Sadie here is clearly trying to show herself a good time.”
“Make it two,” Sadie said. Despite him saying he was a one Fireball kind of guy, Max slugged back one of his shots as soon as Kara was gone. Meanwhile, Sadie kept staring up at the photos on the wall.
“That’s your dad, right?” she said. “For a second, I thought it was you. But you’d never dress like that. In a Stetson. And that’s your mom?”
“That photo is probably thirty years old.” Max said. “Dad bought the cabin after they were married, as a wedding gift for my mom. She always said there was nothing like a fresh snowfall to help you remember how beautiful the world could be.” Max smiled at the memory, his eyes on the photo, and Sadie nodded because she understood. It felt good to be in a snowy setting. It was almost like going home.
“They were here that night, celebrating Mom’s last album release,” Max continued. “Actually, her only album release—and they performed one of her songs together.” He glanced back at the small platform with the stools and the karaoke machine on it. “Right up there, as the story goes.”
