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“And you had a right to know. I laid a heavy story on you.” He dipped his chin so his lips brushed across the top of my head. “I’m sorry for not communicating with you, Ellie, but I am grateful for the space you gave me even though it must have been difficult for you.”
“Max, can we talk about this properly?”
“Only if I can eat the pie out of the dish while we do. With warm custard.”
I pulled back and wrinkled up my nose. “I don’t like custard.”
“You don’t like custard? What’s wrong with you?”
“A lot,” I replied. “Mostly the voices in my head, but there’s a whole lot of issues you haven’t even glimpsed yet.”
He laughed, stepping away. “What if I heat up the pie and add ice-cream for you?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Vanilla?”
“What else would you eat with apple pie?”
“All right. That’s a deal.”
•••
I crossed my legs on the sofa and peered over at Max as he expertly slipped out a slice of hot apple pie. He slid it onto the plate reserved for me and added the two scoops of vanilla ice cream from the ramekin before leaving the spoon there and handing the plate to me.
I smiled gratefully and accepted it, putting the spoon between the ice cream and the pie so the ice cream didn’t turn into a mosh pit of melty bullshit.
Max sat back with his own serving—his lavished with Esme’s homemade custard—and peered over at me. “Are you sure you don’t want custard?”
“Ask me again, and I’ll pour that jug over your head,” I threatened him, using the spoon to slice through the pie.
“I won’t be risking that,” he muttered, diving right into the hot dessert.
A few minutes passed as we both ate. It really was a good pie, and I had to admit that me and Esme made a rather formidable duo in the kitchen. This pie was a labour of love for us both, combining three recipes and somehow, we’d created something really special.
“This isn’t Mum or Grandma’s recipe,” Max said, looking over at me. “Yours?”
I shook my head. “A bit of Esme’s, a bit of my grandma’s, and a bit of your mum’s.”
“It’s the best one,” he muttered, looking at it. “Write it down.”
“Maybe.” I smiled, toying with the last piece of apple on my plate. “I’m really sorry I backed you into a corner and made you tell me what happened with your parents. You didn’t deserve that, and it wasn’t my place to do so.”
“Ellie…” Max put his plate down and looked over at me, reaching to set his hand on my knee. “You have to know that I…”
I peered over at him when he trailed off.
“I care about you a great deal,” he finally said, albeit quietly, catching my gaze. “You’re really quite important to me, and I’m happy this turned out the way it did.”
“You are?”
“Yes. I didn’t talk about them, not really. You’re the first person I’ve opened up to in a long time, and I am sorry that I closed myself off from you after we had that conversation. You didn’t—don’t—deserve the radio silence you’ve had from me.”
I swallowed, glancing down at his hand.
“I’ve not always been the best at managing my emotions. I’m sure that goes without saying after the past few days, but it really has made me aware of that shortcoming of mine. It’s something I need to address going forwards, and I plan on making that a priority.” His fingers twitched around my knee. “I’m sorry if my silence worried you. It was the last thing I wanted.”
“It did,” I said honestly. “I didn’t want to push you into talking to me, and I didn’t know where the boundary there truly was. Until your grandma corralled me this morning, I wasn’t sure how I’d approach you again, if I’m honest.”
“I’m sorry. I had no intention of making you feel alienated like that.”
