Page 23 of My Dearest Mackenzie

Finally, she met my eyes. “It was embarrassing.”

“I know. I didn’t think. It was immature.” I’d hoped to not explain, but she wasn’t leaving me much wiggle room. I couldn’t help the laugh bubbling up my chest.

“What? You think this is funny?”

With her eyes narrow slants glaring at me, I shook my head. “No. Absolutely not.” Taking her hand in mine, I asked, “Is this okay?”

I took her nonanswer as permission, knowing it was risky. We still sat next to one another, our thighs grazing since Frances had found me in a heap of emotions.

“I was hurt when you said how Milly addressed the letters—‘my dearest.’ You see, I was always ‘My Dearest Mackenzie.’ Never Mack or Macky or anything but Milly’s dearest. When she died, the lawyers gave me a sealed letter written to ‘My Dearest Mackenzie.’ She left me with a bunch of instructions on how to live my life, none of which I follow too closely.”

“And that’s when you finally believed me? When I told you how she addressed my Paps?”

I nodded.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you in the process. And if it means anything, I’m sure Milly would be very proud of your success in life.”

I couldn’t help myself—my hand reached up and gathered her hair in its grasp and I gently pulled her close. My lips met hers. I didn’t ask for permission, but her head tilted in, and her mouth opened for my tongue to enter…and I figured it was enough approval.

We stayed like that for a while, allowing some of the tension and need that had been hovering between us to seep out. Kissing, our hands traveling arms and cheeks, gathering one another closer. We couldn’t get enough. I could smell one of our scents on her, not Milly’s, and it tangled with my own bergamot mix. And the combination revved my engine. My hand slid up the back of her shirt and I felt my heart go from zero to seventy-five. Her skin was soft, delicate, and meant to be savored. My palm slid over her shoulder blade as my mouth continued to make sweet love to hers. I wanted more, maybe all of her, until I couldn’t do it—

I pulled back.

“I’m sorry,” I said for the millionth time this Sunday morning.

“Why?” She looked hurt—again by me.

“For doing that, taking us there, here, wherever we are. I’m supposed to be helping you, not hooking up with you. You’re a gorgeous woman, Frances. One of the best I’ve come along in this great big city. Milly might be proud of my business acumen, but not my personal life. I don’t do long-term or commitment or forever. I learned a long time ago, from my mom, that love is fleeting. It’s a me thing, not you.”

This time it was Frances who stood and walked out, but not before grabbing the letter I’d been reading and stuffing it in her neat container and taking them all with her.

Without a word.

Coffee? Rachel texted later that week.

It was Wednesday and she knew I often left work a little early for kickboxing, and the Fourth was tomorrow. She knew I’d be free. K. Our place, 4:30?

That was all I could muster to write back. I hadn’t been transparent with Rachel how off-the-rails this entire Mackenzie Miller situation had gone. The push-pull, the flirting and hurting in equal measure. The kiss, and his painful admission. I didn’t know why it wounded me so much. It wasn’t like I was looking for happily-ever-after for me…or my dream man. He didn’t exist.

Rachel hadn’t asked, likely thinking I’d listened to her and let the futile project go. So I shouldn’t have been surprised when I walked into our favorite coffee shop and found her sitting at a table of people, including two women and one man. I’d bet anything the man was single and this was a setup. Rachel waved and I glared before ordering a soy latte. With my beverage in hand, I made my way to the table.

“Hi.” Rachel stood while speaking. She was too chipper and anxious for my mood.

“Amber, you remember Frankie?” I nodded at Rachel’s friend from the ad agency where she worked. “And this is Amber’s partner, Robin. And their good friend, Oli.”

It took all of my being not to roll my eyes. Oli, a funky hipster, was the last person I needed.

I knew my friend meant well, but I wasn’t in the mood. “Nice to meet you,” I said to the newcomers before turning to my phone.

“We are starting the holiday off early with a barbeque later on Oli’s deck. Want to come?” Rachel flicked her hair and winked at me.

Oli was cute, with sandy blond hair, long around his ears. He probably was a graphic designer and a musician on the side. I noted a small tattoo on his pointer finger, a quarter note, and knew my suspicions must be correct.

“Oh, shoot,” I faux exclaimed, staring at my phone, pretending to get a text. “A client left something at the store. I need to go retrieve it before they head off for the holiday.”

Rachel eyed me suspiciously and asked, “Talk later? Or maybe see you at the barbeque?”

“Sure. I gotta go. I mean, I’ll text you in a little. I don’t think I can do the cookout. Bye, Amber. And Robin and Oli.” My voice cracked in the middle, and I gave a halfhearted wave to make up for it and hurried out, no intention of following up with Rachel until the morning. As I knew, she could be pushy with her agenda but I loved her. Mostly.

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