Brand New Man

by Weston Parker

  “Yes, please,” I said. “Wait. Do you make coffee better than Christmas cocktails?”

  After some objections and a mutual fit of giggles, Max sat up and so did I. The blankets fell away and we both walked across the room butt naked. Max went to his drawer, pulled open the top drawer, and tossed me something soft and gray. I unrolled it to discover it was a T shirt. I ducked into it, thankful I didn’t have to put my jeans back on right away. I liked lounging in the morning, especially on Sundays, and a girl couldn’t lounge properly if she was wearing something as restricting as denim.

  It was just a fact.

  Max slipped into a pair of sweats and a white tee and then nodded toward the bathroom. “I’ll use the one down the hall. Feel free to shower if you’d like. There are fresh towels under the bathroom sink.”

  “Maybe later,” I said. “But I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” I had to pee but didn’t want to say so. I wasn’t sure why. Everyone did it. Maybe it was because this new flame between us was burning so hot I didn’t want to spoil it with things as mundane as having to go to the bathroom.

  So, I waited for him to go down the hall before I locked myself in his bathroom and did my lady business. After relieving myself, I washed my hands and splashed cold water on my face. I dabbed it dry with a plush hand towel and raked my fingers through my hair, shaking out some of the tangled curls.

  Then I wandered down the hall, interested in getting a look at the place in the daylight.

  It was spectacular and edgy, with modern furniture and a streamlined design. Nothing was without a purpose. The walls were bare for the most part, save for a couple of abstract pieces of art on the living room wall, done in black, gray, and streaks of red. The couches were sleek and black, as was the coffee table. There was no area rug or anything that might lend the room a bit of warmth or comfort. It was, without a doubt, the home of a man who lived alone.

  I padded through the living room and passed the dining room. It was just as sleek as the living room. In the kitchen I found Max scooping ground coffee into a glass and silver coffee press. He looked up when I stopped in the doorway, crossed my arms, and leaned one shoulder against the doorframe.

  “I hope you like dark coffee,” he said.

  “I do.”

  He nodded before going to the black kettle that was beginning to boil on the stove. He poured it over the ground coffee beans, stirred it up, and then put the plunger on top. He poured the rest of the hot water into two black coffee mugs on the counter to warm them up. I appreciated a man who considered making a cup of coffee a process.

  “Are you hungry?” He asked.

  “Not yet, but I’m sure I will be.”

  “I can make crepes.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “You can?”

  Max threw his head back and laughed. The sound ricocheted around the kitchen and filled me with a cozy feeling. “Try not to sound so surprised, pretty girl. I have hobbies.”

  “You consider making crepes a hobby?”

  He leaned one hip against the counter and gave me a devilish smile. “No. But I do consider it to be something I enjoy doing every second Sunday morning.”

  “And what are you doing on the Sundays in between?”

  “I still go to that rundown little diner with Hayden and Catherine.”

  “Do you really?”

  He nodded.

  “Do you still order that Lumberjack breakfast thing? With all the pancakes and the toast and hash browns?”

  “If I feel like it, yes.”

  “They should have just called it the Carb Load breakfast.”

  Max shook his head at me. “So, am I making crepes or what?”

  I grinned. “Sure. I’m not the kind of girl to turn down a homemade crepe.” Especially not crepes made by the man who’d just fucked my brains out the night before, and slapped my ass hard enough to leave a red handprint. Talk about sweet and savory.

  Watching Max in the kitchen was entertaining. He knew what he was doing, but he left an absolute disaster in his wake. Within ten minutes or so the accumulation of bowls, pans, and other dishes on the counter became too much for me, and I went over and started tidying up. We sipped our coffees while he cooked, and he did not refrain from showing off his skills at actually flipping the crepes in the pan once they were cooking.

  I chopped up some fresh berries I found in the fridge and Max brought out a can of whipped cream and a jar of Nutella. When I gave him a skeptical look he told me to trust him, and then he placed a crepe on a plate, smothered it with Nutella, and filled it with berries. He rolled it up, loaded up a section of the plate with whipped cream, and passed the whole thing over to me. He told me to stay where I was as he fetched pure maple syrup from the fridge to drizzle on top.

  My mouth was watering.

  We carried our plates and coffee into the living room and took up a seat on his black sofa. I sat sideways with my back against the armrest he’d bent me over last night and tucked my toes under his thigh.

  Then I took my first bite. “Oh. Holy shit. Max, this is delicious. Way better than that Very Un-Merry Sparkling Shit fiasco last night.”

  Max cracked up then took a few bites of his own crepe. We ate quietly. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk. I just wanted to cram as much of the crepe into my mouth as I could. Every bite was a sweet flavor explosion and the Nutella melted on my tongue. It was heavenly, and the sips of coffee between bites made it even more magical.

  A man had never made me something so decadent before.

  And I sure as hell never expected Max to be the one to surprise me with something like that.

  When we were done eating and our plates were essentially licked clean, Max took mine from my hands and set it on his coffee table. Then he leaned back against the sofa and rested his hand on my bare ankle. “This may seem a bit out of left field, Laura, but I have to tell you. I’m really glad to have you back in my life. I know it’s probably just temporary—but having you around has made this Christmas season a little less unbearable.”

  “A little less unbearable? Wow. That may have been the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” I laid on the sarcasm pretty think, even for me.

  Max scratched the stubble on his jaw. “Yeah sorry. Point taken. I didn’t mean it like it sounded. Let me try again.”

  I smiled and leaned forward to grab his shoulder. “I’m teasing. I know what you meant. And for the record, I’m glad we reconnected too. I’ve had a really good week with you, Max.”

  “Yeah?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Come with me to my family dinner on Christmas.”

  I blinked. “I’m sorry? What?”

  He turned to face me. “Keith is cooking dinner. It’s just me, Catherine and Hayden every year. Come with me. I know they’d love to have you there.”

  I opened my mouth to answer him.

  Max frowned. “I know you have plans with your friend. I’m sorry. Don’t feel like you have to say yes. The idea just struck me and I thought it would be nice but—”

  “Max,” I said, slowing him down as the words tumbled out of him. “I’d love to spend Christmas with you.”

  Max cocked his head to the side. “Really? You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure. I’ll spend the afternoon with Ella and her family, and then I’ll spend the evening with you. I haven’t seen Keith, Hayden or Catherine in ages. It would be nice to reconnect with them, and hey, what better time than Christmas, right?”

  Max grinned and put his hand on my knee. “Right.”

  Chapter 31

  Max

  Last week had probably been the best week I’d had since my mom died.

  Laura and I were nearly inseparable at the office on Monday and Wednesday, the two days she was able to come in to see the kids and check in on them. It was hard being away from her but I understood she was busy with her foundation and the Christmas Eve fundraiser. The conflict with the coordinator at the church seemed to have been solved an
d the event was likely going to be much bigger than anticipated. I’d chipped in a good sum of money to help Laura cover any extra expenses. She was spread thin and stressed out, but she wasn’t going to let that ruin a night that the attendees had been looking forward to all year.

  Not only was she busy with those things, but she was also running all over the place to finish her Christmas shopping. When I offered to have my personal shoppers do the errands for her—she looked like she might vomit. She couldn’t understand why I would get someone else to shop for me. Apparently for her the shopping, albeit stressful, was one of her favorite parts.

  She liked the hustle and bustle of the malls that I tried to avoid. She liked the lines because she saw it as an opportunity to chat with strangers, who were all in better moods than usual because of the holidays. I told her she was crazy.

  And we laughed. And then we had sex.

  There’d been a lot of that happening for the past week. It was impossible for me to keep my hands off her. She was too sexy for her own good, and she knew it. She liked to tease me with her body and that sexy smile of hers any chance she got. That included while we were at work. Sometimes she’d walk past my office and give me that flirty little smile I liked so much. Then I’d sit there until my hard on went away and it was safe to stand up and move about the office.

  Even though we’d been having a lot of sex and doing a lot of flirting, we’d also had a chance to talk about the future of her foundation. At dinner the other night Laura had told me all about her plans to open a children’s home after I asked her what her dream was. She’d told me she liked the idea of also maintaining a program like the internships I’d offered her five kids.

  It all sounded like a good dream to me and I wanted to help her realize it. I wanted to make it real for her. So I told her I’d help her—that I would do whatever it took to help her get the children’s home out of the idea phase and into the let’s-do-the-damn-thing stage.

  She’d been so overjoyed she kissed me. And then, naturally, we had sex.

  And then we had sex again just for good measure.

  It felt like we’d been seeing each other a lot longer than just two weeks when I left the penthouse on Sunday morning to meet up with Catherine and Hayden for breakfast. Laura had spent the night at home because she had plans with Ella early this morning.

  It was December twenty third and I couldn’t wait to see her for Christmas dinner. I didn’t want to have to wait that long though. I wished I could see her sooner. But I understood that she had obligations tomorrow night. I couldn’t expect her to just drop everything for me.

  I arrived at the diner before our usual ten o’clock meet up time. Neither of my siblings had arrived yet. It was a strange feeling to be there first.

  Picking out a booth, I took my jacket off, and got comfortable. The waitress brought me a cup of coffee and a glass of water, and I sat and sipped my coffee while I waited for the others to arrive.

  I didn’t have to wait long.

  Catherine arrived first. I watched through the window as she got out of a cab, paid the driver, and crossed the sidewalk. She was coming in through the door when Hayden pulled up and parked his Escape a few spaces down the road.

  I looked up and smiled when Catherine arrived at the booth. She stood there with her hands on her hips looking down at me. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother Max?”

  “Oh come off it, Cat. Sit down.”

  “Don’t call me Cat.”

  “Whatever,” I said, sliding to the edge of the booth so she could sit beside me. She dropped down into the booth and gave me a one armed hug. “How are you, sis?”

  “I’m good,” Catherine smiled. “But the better question is, how are you? And why are you here early? I’m so confused.”

  Hayden arrived just in time to join in the conversation. He dropped into the booth across from me and my sister, a sly smile playing on his lips, and said, “I’d say good morning, but I’m worried something is wrong. Why are you here so early, Max?”

  “For fuck sakes, you two. I’m not always late.”

  “Yes, you are,” they said in perfect unison.

  I rolled my eyes before dispersing the three menus sitting in front of me on the table. “Order your damn food.”

  “I already know what I’m getting,” Catherine said, as she rested her chin upon her knuckles and grinned at me. “What’s going on with you, Max? Something is up. A sister can always tell.”

  “Nothing is up.”

  Hayden clicked his tongue. “Lying is bad, Max. And a sure-fire way to end up on the Naughty List.”

  “Get bent, Hayden.”

  Hayden chuckled and Catherine slapped my arm. She nudged my shin with the toe of her boot. “You look good, too. Happy. Healthy. And last I checked it is still December—usually by the twenty-third, you’re nothing but a big old grouch.”

  I didn’t say anything. Instead I calmly scanned over my menu.

  Catherine slapped her hand over it and slammed it down on the table. “I smell romance.”

  Hayden perked up at that. “What? Is that true, Max? Are you seeing someone?”

  “What is this? High school?” I barked.

  The two of them exchanged a look, and then Hayden shrugged. “You tell us. You’re the one playing hard to get and trying to hide a smile like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.”

  “I’m not hiding anything.”

  “Bullshit,” Catherine said.

  I turned to her. “What about you, then? You seem chipper, too. Feeling better?”

  Catherine prickled under my words but lifted her chin. “As a matter of fact yes, I am feeling good. And in perfect time for Christmas, too. I know my symptoms will periodically come back and I’ll have tough times ahead, but if I can get through the holidays I’ll be happy. Okay, your turn. Spill.”

  I sighed. I couldn’t fight against her any longer. Not after her honesty. So I rubbed my forehead and said, “Fine. I’ve been seeing Laura Wessex.”

  Hayden’s eyes widened in surprise and Catherine leaned back, her mouth falling open. “Really?” she said, shocked that I’d actually answered truthfully.

  I nodded.

  Hayden leaned across the table. “How long has this been going on?”

  “Not long. Two weeks.”

  “Who initiated?” Catherine asked.

  “Me. And I invited her to Christmas dinner, too.”

  “What?” They said in unison again.

  I looked back and forth between them. “Quit acting so surprised. Why is all this such mind boggling news to you?”

  “Because last time we heard about Laura, you’d already pissed her off by coming onto her,” Catherine said.

  “And, you know, you guys have history from when you were together before,” Hayden added.

  “That was a decade ago.”

  “True,” Hayden said.

  Catherine smiled. “I’m happy for you, Max. Just a little surprised. But a good surprised. Does that make sense?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “I’m looking forward to seeing her at dinner,” my sister smiled. “It’s been a long time.”

  “She’s looking forward to seeing you guys as well. Try not to make me look like an ass, will you?”

  “Why?” Hayden asked, cocking his head to the side.

  I shrugged. “Because.”

  Catherine went stiff beside me. I didn’t look at her as she drew in a deep breath. “You really care about her, don’t you Max?”

  I nodded.

  “Why did the two of you end things all those years ago?” Hayden asked.

  I sighed. “Because I treated her like trash.”

  “Why?” Catherine asked.

  I scratched the back of my neck. “Because I knew back then that she was too good for me. She still is.”

  “That’s not true,” my sister said in a scolding tone.

  I chuckled. “I appreciate the moral support, but trust
me, it’s true. Laura is as good and pure as they come. And I’m, well, me. She and I don’t make sense on paper.”

  “A lot of love stories don’t make sense on paper, Max,” Catherine said. Her smile was kind but sad.

  And what she was saying might have been true. But it wasn’t enough to shake the truth from my bones. Laura was too good for me. The thought had plagued me last week and every day since that night in the hot tub. I had tried to silence it with other thoughts, with burying myself in my work, and with other distractions, but no matter how much I tried, it was still there in the back of my head, reminding me where I stood in all this.

  And it wasn’t with Laura.

  I was the guy girls like her dated before they found ‘the one.’

  Chapter 32

  Laura

  I set the pitcher of water down on the buffet table so I could roll up the sleeves of my white button up. Then I picked it back up and set out on a course between my five round tables in the multi-purpose room. I refilled all empty or half-empty glasses, and received big smiles and cheery thanks from everyone at the tables.

  The Christmas Eve Dinner was a success.

  The congregation turned out and attended—donations in hand—when they learned we were hosting an event at their church that night. I’d been so overwhelmed all day getting last minute things done, that their generosity had pushed me over the edge and I had to lock myself in one of the bathrooms for a good cry before heading back out on the floor.

  The congregation spent most of the evening in the chapel for mass while we hosted our dinner over in one of the rooms down on the lower level.

  Everything went off without a hitch. People filed in one after the other to take up their spots at tables. We couldn’t serve everyone at once, so those who we could not seat yet had to mill around upstairs and wait their turn. Luckily, we had tables with pastries and appetizers set up, and more than enough to occupy those waiting.

  We cleared the two thousand mark by another three hundred people. It was the biggest turn out we’d had since the event started.