Chapter 43 – The Beauty and Ugliness of Cupcakes
After Walter and his son left the clinic, Ethan rested for a bit and realized it was already dinner time.
Thinking back to how he'd practically blinked out of existence midway through his last visit to the Williamsburg Restaurant—sure, he'd explained it later over the phone, but it still felt unfinished—he decided to go again in person.
He locked up the clinic, hailed a cab, and headed straight for Williamsburg.
The restaurant was exactly the same as ever: dim yellow lights, greasy air, and packed to the brim.
Standing at the entrance, Ethan glanced around and once again fell into that familiar existential question—
How does a place with such questionable hygiene still have this many customers?
Was Oleg really that good of a cook?
Or were New Yorkers all here training their stomachs' immune systems?
Surely they weren't all here to see their exes—he couldn't be that unlucky.
He spotted Max and Caroline and told them that cupcake delivery to the clinic would start the next day.
"Of course," Caroline said with her usual sweet smile. "We've already prepped the ingredients."
Ethan also settled the bill from last time—including tip—and ordered the exact same meal again.
The moment the cash left his hand, Max's eyes lit up with gossip.
"So," she said, leaning in, "what was the deal with that patient? The family actually showed up with a knife?"
She squinted at him. "What—botched surgery? Or did you make the boobs too perfect and crush someone to death?"
"..."
Ethan cleared his throat. "Max, your imagination really doesn't need to be this… fertile."
"Sweetie, that's a Brooklyn specialty," she shot back. "Unlimited free imagination."
Then she twisted the knife.
"You bolted out of here so fast that night, I thought you'd just heard I was pregnant with your kid."
"—cough!"
Genuinely shaken by the mental image, Ethan immediately changed the subject.
"Max. I'd like a cupcake."
"Nope," she said, folding her arms. "No cupcakes today."
"Why not?" Caroline blinked. "You love making cupcakes."
"They're annoying me," Max replied flatly. "So I'm taking the night off."
Caroline stared at her in disbelief. "You're shutting down the cupcake business because of one piece of constructive criticism?"
"Caroline," Max said slowly, "we don't run a business—"
She paused, then corrected herself with a sigh.
"—Fine. We run a business. But tonight, the cupcakes and I are on a break."
Ethan watched the exchange in silence, suddenly realizing something very important:
Cupcakes, much like people, had both beauty and ugliness.
And right now, Max was firmly embracing the ugly.
"People like things that look pretty, so we make them pretty.
People like things that feel homemade, so we go the artisanal route."
"My cupcakes don't need to be pretty," Max replied coolly. "They specialize in humor."
Caroline rubbed her forehead. "What exactly is your problem with 'pretty'?
Are you at war with aesthetics—or with money?"
"I just think society is too authoritarian," Max said. "Always trying to enforce a single standard of beauty and shove it down everyone's throat."
Caroline decided she needed backup. She turned to Ethan.
"Doctor, say something fair. A restaurant said our cupcakes aren't pretty enough. Do you think we should improve their appearance?"
"Uh…"
Ethan had not expected the spotlight to swing his way.
Max leaned back, studying him. "Choose your words carefully. What you say next will affect many things closely related to your personal safety."
Ethan took a breath and spoke cautiously.
"Personally, I think taste matters most. Looks come second.
"A cake that tastes amazing but looks average is a pleasant surprise.
But a cake that looks beautiful and tastes terrible…"
He paused. "…feels like making out with an ugly woman wearing a ton of makeup."
SMACK.
Max slammed the counter. "Spoken like a man who once belonged to me! Victory for my cupcakes!"
Then she froze.
"Wait—are you implying I'm the plain-looking one?
And that you chose me instead of Caroline?"
Ethan blinked. "???"
When did this turn into a two-choice life-or-death scenario?!
Caroline immediately piled on.
"Relax, Ethan. Choosing her makes perfect sense. Most guys are drawn in by her impressive assets—and then scared off by the verbal abuse."
"At least I wasn't kicked out of Manhattan's rich-wife circle—"
"MAX!"
"CAROLINE!"
The familiar argument kicked off at full volume. Ethan lowered his head and focused on eating, desperately hoping not to be caught in the crossfire.
Then Caroline suddenly stopped, as if remembering something. She walked behind the counter and returned with a plate holding something dark, collapsed, and vaguely mountainous.
"Fine," she said through clenched teeth, setting it in front of Ethan. "If I can't convince you, let's run an experiment."
She pointed at the plate.
"This is one of her chocolate lava cakes. I refused to sell it because it was too ugly."
She chose her words carefully.
"Its appearance resembles a small nuclear explosion that happened inside the oven."
"Oh God, here we go again," Max groaned. "Anna Wintour of the dessert world has logged in."
She waved a hand.
"Customers eat with their mouths, not their eyes. If it tastes good, even something that looks like cat vomit will sell."
"First impressions matter!" Caroline shot back. "Bad packaging can ruin the best product. Just like people—you can't—"
"Wait, people?" Max interrupted, eyes lighting up. She looked from the cake, to Caroline, then to Ethan quietly chewing his burger.
"I love this analogy."
She pointed at the ugly cake.
"This is me. Rough on the outside. Sharp edges. Looks dangerous. Maybe even a little broken."
Then she gestured at Caroline's perfectly styled face.
"And you, sweetheart, are a fondant princess cake. Display-window perfect. Every fold adjusted with tweezers. Flawless. Sparkling. People gasp from ten feet away."
Caroline crossed her arms. "And your conclusion is?"
"The conclusion is—let the man decide."
Max raised her hand and thumped Ethan on the back, nearly making him choke.
"Live test. Starting now."
Ethan grabbed his water. "Cough—what test? I'm fine with the burger, really."
"Option A—" Max slid the hideous lava cake in front of him.
"A disaster-looking cake with a molten soul that'll make your taste buds sing."
"Option B—" she pointed vaguely at Caroline.
"A flawless sugar princess who looks like a dream… but might be hollow inside. Or so sweet she kills you."
Ethan looked at the cake.
Then at Max's try-me glare.
Then at Caroline, who suddenly looked like she was judging a beauty pageant.
He hesitated for two seconds—then pointed at Option A.
"This one. No question."
Caroline nearly jumped out of her skin.
"ETHAN! Why?! It's not even symmetrical!"
"Because I know it tastes good," Ethan shrugged.
"Max's stuff might look sketchy, but it always delivers. Fondant cakes… last time I ate one, I almost died of sugar shock. Half of it wasn't even edible. Real life favors practicality."
Max broke into a massive, triumphant grin. She came around the counter and hugged him.
"See, Caroline? That's why I can still be friends with him after we broke up—
and why your exes delete your number, your email, and block you on every platform known to man."