““Oh, really?” Max wasn’t about to be dissuaded. “Are you going to tell the mother of the woman you’re dating, the mother of the woman you love, that you’re not going to taste the pie she spent an entire day slaving over? That should go over well.” Jack shifted his eyes to Ivy, conflicted. “Is she going to make me eat the pecan pie?” “It could be worse. She used to make fruitcake around Christmas.” “Ugh.” Max involuntarily shuddered. “That was the worst. It was like eating a jelly brick and then being forced to stare at the television for four hours while it just sat there trying to kill you from the inside.””
