Page 39 of My Dearest Mackenzie

I wanted the moment to go on forever.

I was starting to think we could stay overnight—Frances seemed to love the bungalow—but my phone rang.

“Damn Corey. Bet he needs an update,” I murmured, pulling my phone out.

It wasn’t Corey.

“Dan?”

“Hey, boss. I hate to disturb your weekend but we had a problem out in Westchester.”

I stepped away from Frances, mouthing I’m sorry and holding up a finger, signaling one second.

It took a bit longer than a minute as Dan, my head of security, said our store was broken into along with a few others in a mall. Normally, it was something Dan’s team would handle and send a report along in the morning. But since this one was so close to me, they’d called.

I decided to go see the scene, cutting my evening with Frances short.

Call it work or self-preservation, but both had to be done.

The summer heat licked at my exposed back as I pushed myself up the far side of Central Park. My feet struck the pavement quietly, and I dreamed of the iced coffee waiting for me at the end of this run.

I wasn’t always a runner…

When I lost the baby and my body had healed but my mind was still stranded in disbelief, my therapist suggested I try it. At first it was a futile effort, the solo exercise leaving me alone with my destructive thoughts. But after a while, I thrived in the moment. Kickboxing came next. And between the two, I began to gain composure, quieting my mind and controlling my despair.

I’d crafted a life around my fitness and work. I’d never be a mom or a wife again, but I was good at my job and building a small circle of friends and spending time with family. Paps and I had dinner every Sunday after Jeremy walked out, and we continued to do so even after I lost the baby. My parents didn’t understand how I could be so upset with the generous settlement I received, and went about their lives as if I wasn’t suffering. They’d told me to suck it up and enjoy my windfall—I couldn’t even believe they raised me, let alone created me.

My sister had been with me during the stillbirth, forcing Rachel out. Ashley only put up with me as long as she could take; she was young and wanted to live life. I bogged her down—her words.

Thankfully there was Rachel, who stood by my side, came over to watch movies, and rubbed my back when I needed it. When I first started to run, she’d join me occasionally, dragging me for coffee afterward, which turned into brunch or lunch or dinner. It was in this tiny cocoon that I healed.

I was mostly happy, except for the nagging need to understand the secrets Paps had shared with me. To me, the discovery was the special sauce for my own long-term happiness.

Recently, I’d leaned on Rachel again. We had dinner a few times in the weeks since Mack ran out on me…again. I wasn’t sure if it was good or bad luck, but my parents had recently reached out, wanting me to visit. I’d declined. They had no idea what I was up to, and I didn’t plan to tell them.

Today, dependable Rachel was back to Frankie duty, meeting me after my run like in my hellish days when my life fell apart.

I’d regretted pushing Mack into my never-ending chase. He’d only been hurt in the process, and I never wanted him to be collateral damage. The guilt gnawed at me as much as the knowledge of the mystery armoire, and all of the above started to play mind tricks on me.

“Let it go, Frankie,” Rachel told me over my iced vanilla latte. “He’s a grown man. He’s fine.”

We strolled outside the coffee shop, cups in hand. “I can’t. I mean, there was so much happening. We had a real connection, and I felt like he was also vibing with my mission. But then, I don’t know…he wasn’t.”

She peered over her giant hot coffee at me. “Don’t you think he may have been humoring you a little with a mission? I’m sorry, I hate to be a Debbie Downer, but it seems like a waste of time for a rich bachelor like him…to be into all that.”

I sniffed back some sweat, thinking carefully. “He said as much. At first he thought it was trivial, but then he got into it. He even remembered the furniture store. I don’t know, something spooked him and it’s my fault. I hate disappointing people or adding to their pain. You know this.”

She took my hand and squeezed, “Frankie, babe, maybe it’s a sign. Like it’s time for you to date. Put your grandfather’s love life behind you and worry about your own. You liked Mack, you will like someone else. A blessing, as my bubbe would say. Your heart will love again.”

I felt my head shaking side to side while an ache settled further in my heart.

“It’s okay to want love for yourself.” Rachel side-eyed me, not willing to look me straight in the face.

“I’m not you. You put yourself out there,” I admitted. Rachel was divorced too, but had no kids and was enjoying the dating life at thirty-six. “Maybe those two years make a difference. At thirty-eight, I’m plain old.”

“They don’t. Look, Mackenzie Miller is a catch, but he doesn’t want to be caught. He’s elusive. He read your letters, introduced you to this Connie character, and let you know his grandma continued to carry a torch for your Paps. Why else would she go to the store? It’s enough, I think. They were in love but it was forbidden. There you have it.”

The sun was high overhead, making me feel warm, yet a chill ran down my spine when she said forbidden. Like Mack, I didn’t understand how something like that could be tolerated.

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