“Why do you do that?” Max set down the wineglass and leaned on the counter.
“Do what?” I asked, setting down the flash cards.
“Lump yourself in this geriatric bucket like you can’t have fun anymore,” Max said.
I lingered on Max’s face before I answered, noticing the furrow between his brows and the intense stare behind his brown eyes. “I don’t know, I kinda feel geriatric. I’m actually considering buying orthopedic shoes for goodness’ sake.” I lifted my feet and wiggled my toes.
“Well, that’s just a smart decision considering your job; it has nothing to do with your age,” Max said.
My laughter held a tinge of self-deprecation. “I don’t know, it’s just . . . I’m starting to think I should be further along in life given my age. I’m feeling a bit . . . left behind, I suppose.”
Max’s response had a sharper edge to it, teasing but probing. “So this job is what, just a placeholder? Something to pass the time with us bar-lurkers until your real life begins?”
“That’s not it,” I said quickly, a rush of heat coloring my cheeks. “You have this big goal, this dream, and every step you take is in pursuit of it. I’m just here—treading water, not sure which direction to swim in.”
“And you’re just waiting?” Max curled an eyebrow. “Hoping for some grand epiphany or for someone to make up your mind for you?”
I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his gaze. There was an intensity in his eyes that I hadn’t noticed before. “I suppose so. I mean, no one wants to be indecisive, right? But I’m scared of choosing the wrong path and wasting time. I’m just . . . looking for a sign or something.”
The space between us filled with my confessions, and for a moment, we both just existed within it. I felt vulnerable, my admissions hanging in the air like delicate glasswork, ready to shatter.
“Did you always know you wanted to be a sommelier?” I redirected the conversation away from the precipice of my uncertainties, focusing on Max in an attempt to tether myself back to the ground.
Max chuckled before he said, “No, I didn’t even know what a sommelier was until I met your brother. Growing up in Jackson Heights didn’t necessarily expose me to the finer things in life. It was at a dinner your parents hosted where I actually met my first sommelier. From there, I was hooked. I love the idea of guiding someone to have an experience they might not have considered.”
I envied how sure Max was about his passion. He saw something that interested him, and he just knew. I quieted as my mind flipped through all my past jobs and small bursts of passion projects. Waitressing, hostel admin, writing, even that time I thought I would love being an au pair, or the time I tried to teach yoga to tourists. They all breezed through my mind as fun memories, but nothing lit me up.
The dim lighting of the lounge created a quiet ambiance, punctuated only by the soft clink of glasses as Max cleaned up. Candlelight flickered, reflecting off the mercury glass vases and casting shadows on the wall.
“So, who would you take?” Max’s voice, a deep lull from across the room, pulled me out of my reverie.
“What?” I replied, blinking a few times, my brain still stuck in overthinking mode.
“On the double date. If you had to choose, who would you bring along?” His brown eyes met mine, searching.
“Oh,” I paused, biting my lower lip in thought. “That’s, um, a detail I’ve overlooked. There’s, well, no one really.”
A teasing smile tugged at the corner of Max’s lips. “I’m right here, you know.”
“You?” I raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming. “Offering to be my knight in shining armor and save me from the horror of showing up dateless?”
Max leaned on the bar, his voice dropping an octave. “It wouldn’t be a favor, Isabella. I’d genuinely enjoy taking you out.”
“Sure,” I scoffed, feigning nonchalance. But as I moved to collect my belongings, I felt the intensity of his gaze. A warmth crept up my neck, not entirely unpleasant.
A fleeting thought crossed my mind: Was it so bad if someone like Max was interested in me? Lately, it felt as if time was running out, each ticktock of the clock a reminder of my advancing age. Yet, I knew better. Delving into something with Max? It was inviting chaos. I’d learned that lesson before.
My phone buzzed, signaling a message. It was my driver, waiting around the corner. I exhaled in relief. Tonight, I craved the comfort of my childhood home, the luxury of a hot bath, and the solace of being wrapped in the familiarity of my past.
“I’ll see you, Max,” I murmured, heading toward the velvet curtains that hid the front door.
As I left, I couldn’t help but glance back once, catching the lingering look in his eyes.
SEVEN
ISABELLA
“Isabella! You have a delivery!” My mom’s voice woke me from my slumber the next morning, and I groaned into my pillowcase. I had never looked forward to Mondays before, but considering now they were one of my only two days off from work, I loved them.
