The Secret Ingredient

by Kilby Blades

  The one mini-freak-out she had when she realized how close they were getting had been quickly appeased by Gianna. Cella hadn’t been able to argue when her friend pointed out that speculation about whether she was getting some, and from whom, was a worthy price to pay for actually getting some. It still made Cella uneasy—an anonymous public commenting on her love life was different from being face to face with people who could see it in her eyes. But she’d been there nearly four weeks and no photos had been leaked. Max had been right about the people in his town.

  “Please, Uncle Max…do the sea monster again!” The littlest one, Emma, was squealing with delight. Max cast Cella yet another rueful glance before shrugging and heading back toward the water. His board shorts sat low and Cella’s amused smile melted into something else entirely as she watched twin divots on the back of his hips as he retreated back into the waves. It would be the fourth time he disappeared and hid himself in the water, only to emerge as a fierce sea monster set on capturing his tiny prey.

  “You might want to sit down.” Britt’s voice startled Cella. She hadn’t noticed Max’s ex on the approach. “This could take a while. They’ll make him do it a dozen times.”

  The last time she’d seen Britt, she’d been hand-in-hand with Susan on the patio, beer-in-hand, taking in some sun, not batting an eyelash at anyone but the woman by her side.

  “Half the time, I don’t know whether it’s him or them that’s having more fun.”

  Stepping even closer, Britt continued. Cella looked back out at the water and saw how much her words were true.

  “Max,” Cella answered with affection. “Definitely Max.”

  She wondered whether Britt would sense how much things between she and Max had changed. It felt like an eternity since they’d bonded over s’mores bars at the clinic.

  Britt had a beer in one hand and a towel in another. Spreading out the latter and dropping down to sit upon it, she squinted one eye up at Cella and motioned for her to sit.

  “You should’ve seen him when they were little,” Britt murmured as she watched Max and her children play. “I’d call when one of them had a fever, asking the right dosage of Tylenol for their age and stuff like that. He’d tell me what to give them over the phone. Then, every single time, he’d show up at the house.”

  Cella smiled, following Britt’s gaze to where Max played in the water.

  “He walked the floor with both of them when they were sick. But that’s how he is when he loves something. They’re not his blood, but he protects those girls like they were his own.”

  Cella knew then something she’d sensed from the beginning: Britt hadn’t stopped by just to be friendly, just as she hadn’t been there the week before to get an allergy shot.

  “He never would have divorced me.” It came a minute later. Max still played gleefully with the children. Cella kept looking out at the ocean as Britt continued to talk. “Even though he wasn’t in love with me. Even after we both figured out I was gay, he was loyal.” Britt gave Cella a pointed look. “And I was the one who had to break it off.” Britt’s gaze intensified. “Word has it, you’re leaving.”

  “I don’t want to hurt him.”

  Cella gave voice to the darkest thought that had dominated her mind since they’d gotten together. No attempt to get lost in halcyon moments with him had been enough to keep it at bay.

  “There are things I have to take care of…things that, if I don’t get control of them, will only come back to hurt him.” She hated that it was true, but there was no point in lying.

  Britt nodded and looked back at the water. Cella thought of how to explain. Every story she thought to tell, no matter how true, sounded like an excuse.

  “Are you coming back?”

  In a perfect world, she would. But their worlds were far from perfect. She had to figure out how to clean up her mess of a career and Max was on the brink of coming into his own. When she thought about what she was supposed to be—and what he was supposed to be, their lives were headed in different directions. She’d done her damnedest to get him ready, both mentally and professionally, to open his restaurant. And she was doing her damnedest to open hers. But Britt didn’t know any of that.

  “Neither of us even has our own shit figured out. Adding the pressure of a relationship to that…” Cella shook her head. “It seems like a recipe for disaster.”

  Britt nodded. Cella sensed there was something she was holding back.

  “So, if you leave now, is that it?”

  “I’d be the biggest hypocrite in the world if I tied him down to living out a life that’s not his own. I’ve been on the receiving end of it too many times. I can’t make him choose between everything else he wants, and me.”

  Britt got quiet again and Cella went back to watching him play in the waves with the kids. However much she wanted to nurture this joy, she couldn’t hurt both of them more by pretending they didn’t have to wake up from this dream. Promising some vague future together would only set him back in figuring out who he wanted to be.

  “He’s a good actor,” Britt said finally. “Do him the mercy of letting him down hard. If you don’t, he’ll never get over you.”

  Cella swallowed around a lump the size of a golf ball that had suddenly lodged itself in her throat. Nodding to show that she’d heard, Cella thought of old adages about what to do when you loved somebody—she had to let him go.

  21 The Barbecue

  “You and Cella seem to have worked out your problems.”

  Max didn’t need to turn to confirm that Jake was speaking. A twenty-year friendship meant that Max could recognize his voice. Max had sequestered himself to an empty corner of the patio, content to be away from the party for a while. Most of the kids had gone by then and the sun was setting over the horizon.

  Max was busy watching Cella. She was on the beach, talking and laughing with Deidre and Jeanne like they were the oldest of friends. Earlier, he’d watched her beat the pants off of Vic Mathias in a vicious game of darts. She was unrecognizable from the version of her he’d stumbled upon nearly four weeks before, so free and open compared to the guarded woman he’d first met.

  “Go ahead and say it.” Max took a sip of his beer, waiting for an ‘I told you so’. Jake surprised him when he uttered different words.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Max rolled his eyes. Only Jake would take credit for a union that had a life of its own.

  “Thank you, oh wise one.”

  “That’s more like it.” And with that, Jake gave him a Cheshire cat grin. “Looks like all’s well that ends well…”

  “No…not yet.”

  “Dude—you’re like the king of pain. Why can’t you just let it be what it is?”

  “‘Cause I’m pretty sure she’s in love with me.”

  “That’s good,” Jake intoned slowly, as if Max were in kindergarten. “When did you figure that out?”

  Even with decades of friendship under their belt, Max was too discreet to say it aloud. Their lovemaking…it was the stuff of legends. In those unguarded moments, when her eyes longed for more than the perfection their bodies had achieved, her feelings for him were clear.

  He simply explained, “I just know.”

  “So make your move. Tell her how you feel. Tell her your endgame.”

  Max got quiet.

  “You do have an endgame, right?”

  “She wants a restaurant.”

  “Okay…”

  “I have a restaurant.”

  “For real?” Jake’s face lit up in a smile as he patted Max hard on the back. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard in years.”

  It was almost too perfect. Cella could take care of her business in LA, then she could come back and move in with him. She could make Piccarelli’s what she wanted it to be, and he’d sweet-talk her into letting him help in the kitchen once in a while. Max, for his part, could take over the clinic—maybe even expand the practice to include another doctor so he could help Cel
la manage the restaurant. And if moving in with him was too much, too fast, he’d give her her space. She could buy the house next door.

  “I still have to convince her.”

  “Just ask her,” Jake implored.

  But Max was way ahead of himself. He saw it clearly, but something was holding Cella back. If she needed time, he’d take it slowly. If she was distracted by what troubles preyed on her, he wouldn’t let her leave without letting her know he’d be there waiting for her.

  “I’m moving the chess pieces,” Max murmured.

  Chess was what it felt like. She’d maneuvered well to protect her king. Now that he knew she wanted to be beaten, he’d take down her defenses. Going to Costa Rica would have meant he’d be leaving in three days. Now that his trip had been changed, he had more time. It would take every one of the ten days he had left to show her that, together, both of them won.

  “Took you long enough.” Max was looking out at the water and enjoying a long pull of his beer before he allowed his gaze to slide her way. “Thought I was gonna have to rescue you from the hen house.”

  She gave him an innocent smile and plucked the beer out of his hand.

  “People could hear Jeanne cackling from miles around.”

  She smiled around the mouth of the bottle in the midst of a shallow gulp. “Come on…we weren’t that bad.”

  Taking his beer back and finishing it, Max set the bottle on the wide wood of the railing. He took Cella’s hand long enough to coax her down the patio steps. The sky was darkening to twilight and the evening breeze had picked up, but the sand still felt warm to the soles of his bare feet.

  “So what’s the latest?”

  “I thought you didn’t approve of gossip.”

  “But I approve of you and you approve of it.”

  “Only the innocent stuff.”

  When she looked mildly offended, Max just smiled and held more tightly to her hand. He’d come to enjoy this.

  “Lay it on me.”

  “Macie Severs is pregnant, but we all had that one figured out…”

  Max hummed in feigned surprise. He’d known it for weeks. She’d made an appointment at the clinic for an ear infection, but that had been a cover. The poor woman had miscarried so many times, she didn’t want to tell anyone until she got halfway through. She’d been in tears when he walked into the exam room—had gotten spooked when she didn’t feel the baby moving and was terrified that something was wrong. After he’d let her hear her baby’s heartbeat, he’d sent her home with encouraging words and loaned her a portable ultrasound machine.

  “You know how Jane Green’s been swearing up and down it wasn’t Midnight who knocked up Princess?”

  “Yeah?” As Max listened, he enjoyed the way her jasmine scent floated into his nostrils on the breeze.

  “She opened the door to get the paper just as Will was walking up her driveway with a box full of jet black kittens. He didn’t say anything—just glared at her and put the box with the whole litter—just under a dozen—on her porch.”

  By the time Max cracked a smile, Cella was already full-out laughing. He’d never get tired of the way she amused herself when she told a good story.

  “She showed up at Pet Pantry this morning and bought them out of their entire stock of those little baby bottles, and three of those play pen thingies. She tried to bribe the guy at the counter to let her buy every ad spot in next week’s adoption bulletin. Said they were tearing up her house.”

  Max had a good chuckle as they walked lazily toward the water. The waves were just calm enough to allow them to walk comfortably in the surf. After she had calmed, Cella inhaled deeply, enjoying the saline air as she often did when they walked together by the ocean.

  “Ennis and Natalie are getting a divorce.”

  Max raised his eyebrows. “No shit?”

  Cella nodded.

  “And Brody and Kate are getting back together…” Cella said with a gentle smile.

  “Is he giving up the shop?”

  “Unclear…” Cella murmured. “But people have seen them out together. And it sounds like he’s going to propose to her again. He dropped by Deidre’s shop to have him clean the ring.”

  It had barely been two weeks since Brody had come in, worried sick about little Maddie. Not a day had gone by since then that he hadn’t recalled the vision of Cella with a fat-cheeked, clear-eyed baby in her arms.

  “Looks like I was right…” he bragged lightly.

  “About what?”

  “That when two people belong together, somehow they find a way.”

  Stay.

  The voice in his head was getting louder. But he couldn’t say it yet. She still needed convincing. Before he could carry that thought farther, she elbowed him lightly, causing him to sway.

  “And what about your news?”

  He frowned, very much wanting to know how Jeanne Staples had heard he was moving back to town.

  “Who’s this new doctor you found? And when were you going to tell me?”

  Jesus, that was close.

  “Someone’s been keeping me busy,” he returned cheekily, happy to redirect. “When I’m around her, it’s kind of hard to focus.”

  He squeezed her hand before going on. “His name is Linc. Sam Lincoln. We went to med school together and I worked with him a bunch of times in the field.”

  “And you got him to move here, sight unseen, and take Ed’s place?”

  “He’ll just be in town temporarily. Don’t believe everything you hear.”

  From the corner of her eye, he saw her wrinkle her nose in a way that confirmed she was a little drunk.

  “How’s that gonna work?”

  “He’ll move into my place while I’m in Bolivia and take over for Dr. Khan full-time. When I get back, he’ll go home.”

  “And then what? You take over again? That’s not sustainable, Max. You can’t skip two vacations in a row.”

  He wouldn’t point out that these weeks with her had felt like the best vacation he’d had in years, even working fifty hour weeks and having his ass handed to him in the kitchen. Cella hadn’t been exaggerating when she said she’d be harder on him if he wanted to learn. His cooking game was stronger than it had ever been. It let him believe that his crazy scheme—of her as head chef and him as her sous—could actually work.

  “Actually…I decided I’ll stay here for a while.”

  When she stopped walking, he overstepped her, but her hand held firmly to his, pulling him back.

  “That’s great, Max.”

  He shrugged. “I think it’s time.”

  She looked thoughtful as she resumed their walking, her smaller hand still in his.

  “And the restaurant?”

  He’d known the question would come.

  This is it.

  “Once things get settled with Ed’s practice, I’m gonna reopen it.”

  She stopped short and threw her arms around his neck. Cella let out a triumphant whoop a second before she started to laugh. Pulling back, she clasped his hands.

  “Max…that’s great. You’ll be legendary.”

  “Maybe eventually,” he said cautiously. “But not without a lot of help.”

  He studied her reaction. Her unchanged face proved she hadn’t picked up on his subtle suggestion. Maybe it was better to ease her into it. No need to scare the hell out of her by asking her now. This was chess. He had ten days.

  “Baby steps,” he replied vaguely. “How about you?”

  He knew he had to get her to say more about her situation. He couldn’t convince her of anything unless he knew her plan. She sighed and he saw her face change as she refocused on her own troubles and resumed their walking.

  “I have to fire Liz. It’s not a question anymore.”

  “What happens then?”

  “I regroup with a new agent. Settle with Kevin. See where I stand with my contracts. Get out of as many of them as possible. Figure out what I really want to do.”

 
“And your restaurant?”

  They both knew he wasn’t talking about the one she’d have opened with Kevin.

  “I’ll look for a new space. For now, it’s postponed indefinitely.” Her voice was sullen.

  “Maybe it’s for the better.”

  “What’s good about having wasted a year of my life on this?”

  “Maybe the universe helped you dodge a bullet. And you’ll see new opportunities that hadn’t presented themselves a year ago.”

  Cella quieted as they strolled, her eyes straight ahead as she looked, unfocused, down the shoreline.

  “It’s like being in quicksand.” For words so dismal, her voice was even. “It’s like, I’m fighting for my life and the harder I climb with my legs and claw with my hands, the water in the sand keeps pulling me down.”

  “That’s not how you get out of quicksand. It’s shallower than you think. You have to lay on your back and relax.”

  “I’m serious, Max. I’m in too deep. I can’t kumbaya my way out of this.”

  Max stopped and turned to look at her.

  “I’m serious, too. That’s, literally, the way you get out of quicksand. Fighting only makes it worse. You throw all the things weighing you down aside, lay on your back, and let yourself float.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “Cella. I spend most of my time in deadly terrain. Two weeks from now, I’ll be in the Amazon. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about getting out of bad situations, it’s that you can’t let all the chaos distract you from moving methodically toward what you really want.”

  “My method isn’t working.”

  Hallelujah.

  “So change it. Firing Liz is a good start. The trick is, now, to jettison everything else that’s blocking you from what you want.”

  She groaned a little. “Ugh. You’re right. I just feel so incompetent. With all of my resources, you’d think I’d be able to pull off a restaurant.”

  But he hadn’t only been talking about the restaurant—he’d been talking about her life.

  “You have more resources than you think.”

  When the light of fear dawned in her eyes, he dared to hope she understood.