скачать книгу бесплатно
Mackenzie chewed the small bite of fish taco thoughtfully.
“Well?” Dylan demanded impatiently. “Awesome, right?”
“It’s...pretty good...” Mackenzie said, glad that she had refused the tacos and stuck with an egg-salad sandwich and water. She was still pretty full from breakfast and she couldn’t just stop worrying about calories because he had encouraged her to do it. Calorie watching was her normal. Dylan, on the other hand, had been happy to tell her during the car ride that making love to her had left him famished.
“Pretty good?” Dylan acted as if she had just stabbed him in the heart. “You’re killing me! These are legendary. Try another bite...”
“No!” She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I wouldn’t dream of taking even one more bite away from you...”
“Okay...” He was perfectly happy to polish off the rest by himself. “Are you sure?”
The taco had left a bad taste in her mouth that couldn’t be washed away with water alone. She nodded yes while she dug through her tote to find her mints.
They finished their lunch, cleared their table and stepped out onto the pier. Dylan looked around. “Are you up for a walk?”
“Sure,” she agreed. They had walked a little ways, when he gave her a curious look. “I thought you liked me.”
“I do...”
“Then how come you’re so far away?” He offered her his arm.
She took his arm and they strolled together along the pier. When the sun felt a little too strong on her face, the salty mist from the water crashing against the pier seemed to come just at the right time when her skin felt too hot. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been to the pier. She had certainly never been here on a date. In this moment, she was content; happy to be walking beside Dylan.
At the end of the pier, Dylan asked, “Do you want to head back or sit down on one of these benches and people watch?”
“People watch, of course.”
Like an old comfortable couple, they sat together on the bench. Dylan put his arm behind her shoulder; she leaned in just a little bit closer.
“Do you have the photo album with you? The one from last night?”
Mackenzie put her hand on her tote. “Right here.”
“I’d like to finish looking at it.”
“Are you sure?”
“I want to know more about our daughter.”
Our daughter.
Dylan had never used that term before.
Dylan started at the beginning while Mackenzie told him the story behind each picture. Halfway through the album, they came to the pictures that chronicled Hope’s cancer journey.
“Her face is so swollen in this picture. She doesn’t even look like the same kid,” Dylan said. Hope’s face was puffy and round, her head completely bald, her eyebrows gone.
“Steroids,” Mackenzie explained. “She could never seem to get enough food.” Mackenzie pointed to the next picture. “This is when she first got her port put in for chemo. That was a...really bad day.”
Dylan flipped through the rest of the photographs and then went back to the first picture—the one taken the day Hope was born.
“You know that I love her now, Mackenzie.”
Mackenzie nodded. She did know.
“And, I’m...really worried about her. What if she relapses?”
Mackenzie didn’t like to think about that. She put the album in the tote. “Then we fight it. That’s all we can do.”
They stayed at the pier for another hour; before they headed back to the car, Dylan insisted that he take her to his favorite ice-cream shop, which was famous for its waffle ice-cream sandwich. After the ice cream, Dylan drove them back to his place. Climbing out of the low-slung Corvette, Mackenzie couldn’t remember having a better time with a man.
“Do you want to come in for a while? Or do you have to go?”
“I have to go. I pick Hope up at four. School tomorrow.”
On the way back to the car, Dylan made her promise to return the favor and let him drive her vintage Chevy the next time they saw each other.
“I had a really good time with you, Mackenzie. And I know this is going to sound kind of strange, because we have Hope, so I will be seeing you again...but I want to see you again.”
Dylan was leaning against her driver’s door. For the whole entire day, right up until this moment, Mackenzie had felt really good about her decision to deepen the connection with Dylan. But now that she was getting ready to return to reality, her life...doubt was starting to creep in fast and loud.
“Why do I get the feeling something just went wrong here?” Dylan asked suspiciously. Mackenzie’s body language, the expression on her face, had changed. Her eyes, which had been open and willing, were guarded.
“There’s nothing wrong, Dylan,” she lied. “It’s just time for me to get back to real life.”
He hadn’t believed the lie. “I think we should make a date right now. How about if the three of us drive out to Aunt Gerri’s house next Sunday? She’s been asking for both of you.”
“Um...let me check my calendar, okay? And I’ll get back to you.”
“Now, see...I feel like I need to get a commitment out of you...pin you down.” Dylan frowned. “It seems like you’re already having second thoughts about this weekend. I can feel you backing away from me...”
Mackenzie took a small step back. “I don’t think I’m backing away from you...”
“Actually, you just literally did back away from me.”
Dylan reached out, slipped his fingers through her hair to the nape of her neck and brought her lips to his. He kissed her until he felt her take a step back toward him. And he didn’t stop kissing her, until she melted into his arms.
“So...” His lips were still so very close to hers. “Do we have a date?”
“You don’t play fair, do you?”
“Not when it comes to you.” Dylan kissed her again. “Do we have a date?”
“Yes, Dylan.” He was a very persuasive kisser. “We have a date.”
Chapter Eleven (#ubba75f79-c03b-50d9-951a-0fb7f89b7b60)
“What do you think?” Mackenzie stood in the doorway of her room feeling naked in the short-sleeved purple blouse. It was Sunday, and they were scheduled to meet up with Dylan in an hour so they could all go out to his aunt’s farm together. She wanted to look presentable, and even though she had been having misgivings about her weekend with Dylan, she wanted to look nice for him, too.
“I picked that out.” Hope was a stylish kid. She loved jewelry and accessories; she cut pictures out of fashion magazines and couldn’t wait to wear makeup. “You look pretty, Mom.”
Mackenzie checked her reflection in the mirror again, tugged on the front of the blouse. It was strange seeing so much of her arms, and they still looked too round for her liking, but lately she’d started to think that she needed to force herself out of her baggy-fashion box. There was no doubt in her mind that Dylan’s regular compliments had boosted her body image. She still had work to do, but at least she was able to finally cut the tags off this blouse and put it on her body. Mackenzie pointed to her reflection in the mirror.
“You look good,” she said, then shut off the bathroom light and headed to the kitchen. She took a quick sip of her strong black coffee before preparing Hope’s morning medicine.
“Did you make your bed?” Mackenzie called out to Hope.
She knew that she was never going to be a complete neat freak like Dylan, but she was starting to think that a little more organization wouldn’t hurt. In fact, she was very proud of the fact that all their dinner dishes had made it directly into the dishwasher without their typical pit stop to the sink.
“Yeah.” Hope showed up looking cute as a bug in a sparkly butterfly T-shirt, cuffed jeans and lavender tennis shoes. “But why’d I have’ta start doing that now?”
Mackenzie held out the pills for Hope. “It wouldn’t hurt us to be a little neater around here...I made mine, too.”
Hope made a face at the pills.
“I know, kiddo. But you gotta take them. Down the hatch.”
Mackenzie handed Hope a glass of grape juice, watched her take her pills. When she was done, Mackenzie rinsed out the glass and put it in the dishwasher.
“You feeling okay today?”
“Uh-huh...” Hope nodded.
Mackenzie and Hope loaded into her Chevy and headed toward the bakery. She had agreed to meet Dylan there and she didn’t want to be late. During the short trip from their house to the bakery, Mackenzie couldn’t seem to get comfortable. She fiddled with the radio, the AC, her seat belt, the neckline of her blouse. She was fidgety and uncomfortable. Anxious. This would be the first time Dylan and she would be seeing each other after their weekend alone. He’d called, but she had made excuses: she was tired, she was working...bad reception, low battery. She just didn’t know what to say to him, so it was just easier to say nothing at all. The farther away she got from the weekend, the more she beat herself up for jumping into bed with him. Yes, her body had been deprived in that area for years, but her brain knew better.
And, as often happened with spur-of-the-moment libido-driven decisions, by Monday night, Mackenzie was marinating in full-blown regret. It had been a terrible idea to sleep with Dylan. Their focus, their only focus, should have been on Hope—not on each other. She needed to tell Dylan how she felt when they were face-to-face and, hopefully, the two of them could agree to refocus their attention on Hope. If the right moment materialized today, she knew that she needed to have a talk with Dylan.
* * *
Dylan arrived at the parking lot behind the bakery ahead of schedule. He was usually early. While he was waiting for Mackenzie and Hope, he decided to try his attorney’s private number. He was surprised when Ben actually answered.
“Hey, Ben! I was planning on leaving you a message.”
“Do you want me to hang up?” Ben asked.
“No.” Dylan laughed. “This is better.”
“What can I do for you, Dylan?”
“I had a chance to look over the papers you emailed. Everything looks good, exactly as we discussed.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Just send a signed copy to the office and we’ll have them in the mail to the mother this week.”
“Actually...that’s what I was calling you about. I’d like to hold off on sending the papers. Just for a little bit.”
“May I ask why?”
“I’m hoping that we can work some of this stuff out on our own. So far, things have been pretty cordial between us. But if Mackenzie gets these papers now, I think she’ll go ballistic and turn this into World War Three.”
“I see. Well, ultimately, it’s your decision.” Ben paused for a moment of thought. “Why don’t we do this...send over a signed copy and we’ll hang on to the papers until you’re ready to pull the trigger. How does that sound?”
Dylan saw Mackenzie’s Chevy pulling into the parking lot and wanted to get off the phone quickly. “That sounds like a plan, Ben. Thanks for picking up on a weekend.”
“Billable hours, my friend,” Ben said jokingly. “Billable hours.”
* * *
Hope hugged him hello and Mackenzie greeted him by handing him the keys to her Chevy. He didn’t have a car with a backseat, so Mackenzie volunteered her car. And since he had let her drive his Corvette, it was his turn to drive her Chevy. The vintage Chevy had a bench seat in front big enough to fit all three of them. He was behind the wheel, Mackenzie was in the seat by the passenger door and Hope was seated between them. Dylan had the distinct feeling that Mackenzie was glad to put some distance between them in the car, especially since she had been giving him the cold shoulder all week. He’d thought they’d had a great weekend together. She
Вы ознакомились с фрагментом книги.
Для бесплатного чтения открыта только часть текста.
Приобретайте полный текст книги у нашего партнера:
