After exchanging pleasantries for a while, they realized it was already late.
Caroline lifted her bandaged hand and waved it. "How much do we owe you?"
Ethan shook his head. "Nothing."
"Great," Max cut in at once. "Next time we'll bring cupcakes."
"No, Max," Caroline frowned. "I'm not taking advantage of you; we're paying."
Max rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, shelve the last crumbs of your noble pride—what's that even worth these days?"
"At least more than your oven."
Ethan watched their banter and smiled. "Tell you what—buy me dinner and we'll call it the consultation fee."
"Of course, no problem!" Caroline agreed readily.
Max shot him a wicked grin. "Aha, I get it—he just asked you on a… dinner date."
"Shut up, Max!" Caroline turned to Ethan, serious. "We're at the Williamsburg Diner—come anytime. My treat!"
Ethan: "Got it. I know the place, just never been inside."
They swapped numbers, then Caroline and Max stepped out of the clinic. The air still held faint traces of alcohol and a whisper of perfume.
---
Around the corner, Caroline instantly leaned toward Max, eyes sparkling.
Max anticipated the move. "This is all your fault, Caroline!"
Caroline blinked. "My fault? What did I do?"
Max declared, "Thanks to you, the second you got burned, I got flash-burned back to the past."
"Max, I swear—your ex looks like Ryan Gosling in scrubs!"
"Please," Max scoffed. "Ryan Gosling doesn't suture turkeys and whisper sweet nothings to them. What was he even doing?"
"Irrelevant!" Caroline wouldn't let go. "What matters is—how did you two start? Details. I need details!"
Max sighed. "Can we talk about something lighter, like 'Why does a doctor's appointment always come with a side of ex-boyfriend?'"
"Don't change the subject! How long did you date? Was he the white-coat, sunshine-smile type?"
"We just rolled around in bed a few times," Max said lazily. "Okay, maybe a dozen—can't remember. We were broke and bored; it was the cheapest entertainment available."
"Sounds downright pornographic! So how did you meet?"
"I worked in the hospital cafeteria. He'd order one coffee and sit there till closing," Max chewed gum. "Said he was studying, but I think he was into the other waitress."
"Then he noticed you and you marched straight into the halls of love!" Caroline's eyes shone. "So romantic—like the opening of a Netflix teen flick."
"Romantic?" Max snorted. "You didn't see him two nights before an exam—hair like over-boiled spaghetti, lugging a torn backpack. I thought he was a homeless grad student."
"And you fell for him?"
"I thought he was poor," Max stared at the pavement. "Turned out he was just in debt. Know the difference? Poor people accept their fate; people in debt still think they have a future."
"So… were you two happy?"
"Emotionally or aerobically?" Max flashed a wicked grin.
"Stick to the headline!" Caroline said solemnly. "Your first time—"
"Stop!" Max cut her off. "That section is protected by doctor-patient confidentiality."
---
Once Caroline and Max left, the clinic fell quiet again.
Ethan leaned in the doorway, watching their silhouettes fade around the corner, a slight smile on his lips.
Their departing backs stirred a strange, familiar feeling inside him.
He couldn't help replaying his time with Max—
Not long, but not short either.
His memory of her was simple:
That striking black hair, and the way she often kissed him awake from sleep.
She'd once lain across his bed, grinning: "Your kiss works faster than an anesthesiologist's needle."
Only now did it hit him—this snarky, black-haired, outrageously curvy woman was Max from 2 Broke Girls, and he… hadn't recognized her at all.
---
Evening came; Ethan left the clinic and hailed a cab.
He'd meant to head straight home, but hunger struck; after two seconds of hesitation he named the Williamsburg Diner in Brooklyn.
The streets of Brooklyn were their usual chaos—sallow streetlights, cracked graffiti, loitering junkies, and leopard-print miniskirted streetwalkers made up the city's most honest face.
A curvy woman stepped close, wearing a smile she'd practiced a thousand times. She brushed two fingers across Ethan's suit and purred, "Baby, tonight I'm on the house."
Ethan took a polite step back, expression mild. "Thanks, but I just had a circumcision; doctor's orders—no social activities for a month."
He paused, then added, "My hands are free today, though."
The woman blinked, rolled her eyes, and walked off.
Ethan smiled to himself. "Brooklyn romance—always straight to the point."
The diner door swung open with a jingle of bells.
Behind the counter the black cashier lifted his headphone-clad head; the moment he spotted Ethan he hollered:
"Hey! Look who just walked in—damn, too fine! If I were ten years younger and down two bottles of whiskey, I'd bend myself straight for you!"
Ethan grinned at the compliment and offered a fist bump. "Hey, man. Ethan."
"Earl, cashier and former rapper." The old cashier flashed a grin and bumped fists. "Brotherly advice—grab that booth. The new blonde bombshell still can't tell fries from chips."
"Already met your blonde bombshell today," Ethan answered, smiling. "Thanks for the heads-up."
Max came out with menus, chewing gum. She hadn't looked up, but the familiar voice made her pause mid-step.
Ethan greeted her gently. "Hey."
Max lifted her gaze, feigning calm. "Oh, look—it's Caroline's soulmate. What'll it be? Today's special is the Awkward-Ex Salad, drizzled with Roommate-Can't-Stop-Meddling Sauce."
Ethan bit back a laugh. "Sounds appetizing."
"Of course!" Max tilted her head. "Tastes like cold coffee—leaves you haunted."
She slapped the menu on the table and leaned in. "The usual? Black coffee, no sugar? Or… something sweet this time? I hear sugar helps you forget the past."
Ethan took the menu. "You remember what I drink."
Max snorted. "I remember what every man who wasted my sheets likes."
Ethan: "Then I'll try to redeem myself with the tip."
Max: "Feel free. Order whatever—Caroline's paying, but the tip is non-negotiable."
"Beef burger, fries, and a Diet Coke, please."
Max: "You order like a regular. Don't tell me you sneak in here."
"Just didn't want to waste brain cells on dinner." Ethan smiled. "The sweetest dish is already in front of me."
"Whoa!" Max raised a brow. "Now you're talking dirty. Medicine really does advance people."
She spun into the kitchen, slapped the ticket on the counter in front of ogling Oleg, and called to Caroline, "Your benefactor's here!"
Caroline peeked out and squealed, "God, he's even hotter without the white coat!"
She rushed over. "Want anything else? It's on me!"
"Then I'll try the dessert you recommend," Ethan said. "Heard it's your signature."
"Absolutely," Caroline beamed. "Max's cupcakes are the best in Brooklyn."
In the back, Max stared into space.
"Stop zoning out!" Caroline teased, tying her apron. "Go serve your ex."
"What, you want me to greet him naked?!"
"Not quite—but a little visual impact never hurts." Caroline tugged Max's uniform two centimeters lower, deepening the neckline. "Go get 'em! I'm counting on that tip so we can afford Chestnut's long-stem carrots."
"I use those carrots first, then Chestnut gets them!"
"Eww—"
Oleg popped his head out. "That's Max's ex? I thought he was a figment of her imagination. What's he do?"
Caroline: "He's a doctor."
"Doctor? Nice. Think he could examine me? I've been feeling kinda… limp."
Max rolled her eyes. "Your only condition is hyperactivity."
In the end, Ethan didn't dare touch the innocent-looking burger.
Who knew if Oleg had washed off whatever dubious fluids were on his hands.
Soon the diner closed; Max and Caroline cheerfully split the tips—especially Ethan's generous stack—then led him back to their shabby apartment.