Never To Late For Love

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The '80s were years of excess. Too many drugs, too much sex, and too many trends. One of the big trends was the move toward more modern names, my parents however missed the memo. Who names their kid Mabel when Amanda, Michelle, and Lindsey are on the table. My mother stated that she wanted me to have a strong yet feminine name. I just wanted to hide under a rock growing up whenever someone would scrunch up their face when they called my name out. I just try begging people to call me Mae to stay away from the old spinster jokes.

I'm a thirty-eight-year-old woman h=who hasn't been married, so yes there are spinster jokes. One would think that in the world of Tinder and online dating sites for everything under the sun that the word spinster would no longer be used. unfortunately in my case, my friends and family use it to describe me.

The problem is that I don't date. I just can't find someone I'm interested in who is worth it. I tried for a while but, it feels like so many guys are just after a hookup. And don't get me started on trying to find someone my age. All the good ones are taken as cliche as that sounds. I missed my chance.

That loser of an ex-fiancé stole all of the good years I had for finding someone. I'm over the prime years of what men look for in their forever person, and I hate to admit it but I just can't find a woman that I'm into. I've tried, trust me. I like guys pure and simple. So with all that said, I've just decided to enjoy my life.

I work doing something that I love and I'm passionate about, baking. For as long as I remember. I have wanted to be a baker. Cakes, breads, and sweet treats always seem to bring a smile to people's faces, and I have always wanted to make people smile. Whenever I see someone who is upset or down I have this ache in my heart and a need to make them smile. A smile can change someone's world. I can now say proudly say that I have been doing just that for eighteen years.

I have worked and Rosetta's ever since I graduated from culinary school. She allows me to be as creative as I want without all the headache of owning and running my own business. Most people who hear my story can't understand why I stay, but I know the reason and that is all that matters.

I work normal baker hours, getting up at four in the morning and being in by five-thirty to start. Rosetta lets me leave whenever I feel like it and I can have most weekends off as long as my assistant is there to cover Saturdays. The only thing that brings me in on Saturday is a wedding cake set up. I do not trust anyone with my creations, so I do the setup myself.

This brings us to the here and now of me in the kitchen of the bakery making a batch of eclairs listening to 90's alternative in my earbuds without a care in the world. Most of the people that work here know to just let me be when I am in the kitchen. Max my assistant finds out what I want him to do at the beginning of the day and then goes to his side of the kitchen and just works. Both of us like our own space to work so we have our own prep areas as well as stoves. We share ovens but other than that we are separate.

I feel my phone vibrating in my back pocket alerting me that it is time for me to start winding down to leave for the day. Finishing the last touches on my eclairs I head to the back locker room to change. The fact that I am constantly covered in flour made Rosetta put the locker rooms in so that we can change here and clean up.

Walking out of the locker room I see Max leaned against the wall waiting for me. Max has a complex about women walking alone in the city. He is terrified that I will get mugged or worse. I shake my head and make my way over to him.

"You do know that it is two in the afternoon and that I only live one block away right?" He looks up and smirks at me.

"I do but I also know that you are about as prepared for danger as a toddler with a whiffle ball bat. Just humor me and let me walk you home. It's on my way anyway. Plus I need advice on my last lady."

And there we have it. The real reason why he is wanting to walk me home. He needs to figure out how to ditch the latest in a long line of girls that he has grown bored with. Max is a sweet friend but he is nothing short of a playboy. It started from the time that we were twelve and hasn't let up since.

"What is wrong with this one?" I roll my eyes knowing that it is most likely the fact that she wants something more than just casual dating.

"She wants me to meet her parents!" The shriek that comes out of his mouth can be nothing short of a man-card-pulling stunt.

"Okay, okay. First, drop the theatrics. You do remember that you're the man in this relationship right?" I can't help but laugh when I see the glare coming from his face.

"Yes, Mae! I know that I am the man! I just can't stand it when girls just demand that I jump through their hoops to be in a noncommittal relationship. All I want is someone willing to hang out, have sex, and then go do their own thing until I am ready to hit it again."

Now the problem is that I want to slap him for so many things that I can't figure out where to start. I know that he is just like the other ninety-nine percent of the males on this planet in that he thinks of himself first. Over the years I have talked to Max until I am blue in the face but nothing seems to change. Max just isn't cut out for a serious relationship, but girls see how hot he is and they lose all sense of reason.

"Max you know how I feel about your playboy lifestyle, but just remember that you make these girls lose their minds. You're hot and sweet and they think that they will be the ones to finally change you. Just keep being honest and upfront with them." I place my hand on his shoulder. " Just tell her it's not working out."

Max nods his head in understanding and wraps his arm around me as we walk. No matter what we may have faced in life we have made it together and nothing will change that.

Once I make it home I take a long relaxing soak in the tub. As much as I love my job I get very tired at the end of the day. So to combat the fatigue I put on an audiobook to relax and let my care drift away. When I emerge from my sweet oasis of relaxation I see my other bestie for life Erica sitting on my couch eating pizza.

"Please tell me there's some left?" I ask while eyeing up the slice in her hand.

"You know it. I would never hold out on you Boo Boo. How was your day?"

The difference between Max and Erica is that she is more like a sister and half of myself. I can tell the girl anything about me and she'll love me all the same. Max makes me feel like I have to be on my toes at all times and be perfect in doing it. He has never really done anything to make me feel that way, it's just a nagging feeling I have.

"It was good. The usual, although Max is having a hard time with his latest lady. She wants him to meet her parents. He is totally freaking out." As soon as I finish we both bust into historical laughter.

"At this rate, he'll be running for the hills by the time he talks to her again," Eric says while trying to gain control of herself.

"Oh, he already is. I'm sure she already has the "It's not you, but me" flowers on their way."

Max crushes every heart the same way, flowers delivered to their home. He never sends them to work because he thinks it's cruel. Over the years I'm sure he has spent enough money at the flower shop to be able to open his own shop.

"By the way, I'm going on a date with that guy who keeps coming into the bar. And before you say anything my boss knows him and he's clean."

Erica knows me better than I know myself. She knew I wouldn't want her going out with someone who was a complete stranger. Erica had gotten out of a bad relationship last year and it had made me paranoid for her. Long story short she was abused. This made us all question her choice of men. Not that it was her fault but sometimes she was not able to see through the act that people put on.

The rest of our evening is spent eating pizza and talking about Tom the guy she'll be going out with. The night seemed pretty perfect and what more could a girl want.