Chapter 30 – Revenge on the Ex
"That's the spirit!" Max flashed that familiar devious grin. "Since you've figured it out, let's do something that actually feels satisfying. Hiding back here is way too easy on that asshole."
Her gaze flicked strategically between Ethan and Caroline. "Hey, I've got a brilliant idea. Caroline, you walk out there with Ethan on your arm and pretend he's your new boyfriend."
"A handsome, successful, doctor boyfriend—the absolute perfect combo to make every shallow ex-boyfriend question every life decision he's ever made."
"Just stroll casually right past him, looking all comfortable together—maybe even, like… a kiss."
Ethan froze mid-bite. "Wait, what? Me?"
"Of course you," Max arched an eyebrow, smile playing at her lips. "That annoyingly perfect face of yours was literally designed to make people jealous."
She gave him an appraising once-over. "Clean-cut good looks, successful professional wardrobe, and… damn, that body. Even I could almost believe you're her actual boyfriend."
"But you and I have a history—I don't think this is appropriate—"
"Oh my God, Doc," Max rolled her eyes dramatically. "Did your neighborhood just get high-speed internet? Recreational marijuana's legal in half the country, and you're still clinging to some outdated 'thou shalt not date thy friend's ex' commandment?"
"I just didn't want you to feel uncomfortable, or… disrespected."
"Uncomfortable? You're adorable!" Max grinned widely. "Making that douchebag cry is the ultimate sign of respect in my book. Now go, go, GO!"
Physically shoving Caroline forward, she made an exaggerated shooing gesture at Ethan. "Move it, Doctor—tonight you're the leading man."
"Max, you're legitimately a genius!" Caroline's confidence reignited completely; she slipped her arm confidently through Ethan's. "Please, just this one favor."
Ethan sighed softly and gave a resigned nod.
Propelled by Max's intense "I-mean-business" stare, Ethan allowed Caroline to lead him directly into the heart of the crowded party.
Party lights shimmered and strobed overhead; Boyz II Men's "I'll Make Love to You" drifted through the speakers.
They didn't orchestrate anything overly dramatic—just stood together naturally.
Ethan stood tall and composed, strikingly conspicuous among the aggressively costumed '90s enthusiasts.
His professional title of "doctor" added instant social credibility; several party-goers had actually been patients at the Rayne Clinic.
Even better—one of scumbag William's preppy buddies had visited the clinic too.
Ethan was now absolutely certain: this guy fit the textbook profile of a "gold-digger" romance opportunist.
Genuinely wealthy people definitely didn't frequent his budget clinic in Brooklyn.
Caroline wore an effortlessly poised, elegant smile while Ethan played her attractive arm-candy throughout the evening.
They'd initially thought just holding hands would suffice, but from behind the bar Max made an aggressive slashing gesture across her throat, eyes screaming "commit or go home."
Caroline lightly scratched his forearm—her prearranged signal that it was showtime.
He leaned in for what was supposed to be a quick peck; whether by Caroline's calculated design or genuine chemistry, the kiss lingered into something considerably deeper.
Results were instantaneous and devastating.
No matter the era or culture—watching your ex passionately kiss someone objectively superior never feels remotely pleasant.
William's face transitioned rapidly from pale to storm-cloud furious; jaw clenched, he aggressively shoved through the crowd and essentially fled the premises.
Max laughed so hard behind them she nearly cried.
Leaning casually against the bar, Ethan accepted the glass of water Max handed him, still somewhat shell-shocked.
Back in his previous cultural context, current partners or exes—either way they were absolutely off-limits among close friends.
Something as minor as serving food to a friend's ex could trigger a full-blown family-values moral crisis.
Here, an ex could be strategically deployed in an elaborate revenge scheme directed by his own best friend.
Was American society evolving to a more enlightened form, or was basic interpersonal morality fundamentally collapsing?
Twenty-plus years living in the States and he'd assumed he'd fully assimilated—yet right now he felt utterly disoriented.
"Nicely executed, Doc."
Max walked over confidently, raising her glass in mock toast.
"That kiss looked so authentic I almost believed it myself."
Ethan managed a tight smile. "Thanks… you genuinely don't mind?"
Max blinked with genuine confusion. "Welcome to the twenty-first century, Doc."
To absolutely verify she harbored zero resentment, Ethan followed her back to her apartment after the party wrapped and confirmed in the most direct physical way possible.
After that thorough verification he finally relaxed—Max could fake emotional responses, but her body absolutely never lied.
Reflecting on his hometown values versus this city's attitudes, the cultural gap still felt surreal.
So he conducted verification round two… then inevitably… round three…
Come morning Ethan woke pleasantly sore and satisfied, instinctively reaching across the empty sheet.
He opened his eyes—room completely empty, only Max's faint vanilla scent lingered in the air.
Sitting up slowly, he rubbed his aching shoulders and lower back; vivid memories of last night surfaced with every muscle twinge.
"This makes zero biological sense," he muttered to himself. "Last night's energizer bunny now feels completely demolished, while the one literally begging for mercy is already up at dawn baking cupcakes."
He dressed carefully and pushed open the bedroom door.
From the living room came a voice absolutely dripping with mischief.
Caroline lounged comfortably on the sofa, coffee mug in hand.
"Good morning, Doctor. Sleep well—or should I say, extremely vigorous workout last night?"
Ethan startled visibly; last night he'd completely forgotten these apartment walls were literally paper-thin. Caroline had apparently enjoyed an unwanted live audio performance.
"Morning, Caroline," he answered, heading toward the kitchenette with studied composure.
She swirled her coffee playfully. "Seriously though, did that revenge kiss somehow unlock hidden superhuman stamina? That late-night marathon nearly violated OSHA workplace safety limits!"
Ethan cleared his throat awkwardly. "Caroline, I just genuinely hadn't seen Max in three solid weeks."
"Three weeks of pent-up energy, totally understand, Doc," she giggled openly, handing him a fresh mug. "Max left incredibly bright-eyed this morning to deliver her cupcake orders."
"…Today's coffee tastes excellent." He sipped gratefully, then redirected, "So how's the cupcake business actually going?"
"Ha! Doc, your subject-changing technique needs serious work."
"No, I'm genuinely curious," Ethan insisted. "Since you and Max are running this cupcake enterprise together, could you possibly convince her to supply the clinic regularly?"
"One, I genuinely love the taste; two, we could offer them complimentary to patients in the waiting room."
Caroline raised an intrigued eyebrow. "Oh? We're talking what kind of volume?"
Ethan did quick mental math. "Let's start conservatively with thirty per business day. Obviously skip weekends and holidays."
"Thirty cupcakes daily? Are you operating a medical clinic or catering Sweet Sixteen parties?"
"I figure a complimentary sweet treat calms patient anxiety while they're waiting for appointments."
He paused thoughtfully. "How long do those cupcakes typically last refrigerated?"
"Generally three days maximum, no problem."
"Perfect, thirty sounds appropriate. We can obviously adjust the volume later if it's excessive or insufficient."
Caroline waved dismissively, laughing until her eyes watered. "Deal, I'll absolutely bring this up with Max."
"Fair warning though: when she hears 'regular bulk supply' she'll immediately assume you're either angling to see her more frequently, offering charity, or—well, you know Max."
"Exactly why I'm asking you instead of approaching her directly."
"Please, pitch this to her properly. Then maybe she can finally quit that ridiculous part-time babysitting gig she hates."
"Alright, I'll work my persuasive magic on her."
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