Page 45 of My Dearest Mackenzie

“Of course. Have fun.”

“Any summer travels for you?

Cam had asked only to be polite, but it made me think. I hadn’t been on a vacation in a while. Maybe I should take a breather… “Not yet, but I shall see,” I told him.

“I hope you do. Thanks for everything, Frankie,” he said and was off.

The rest of the day was a flurry of wedding clients, and it was close to seven when I had a moment to fix my makeup and go to the bathroom.

On my way out, I cruised through the cosmetics section, stopping at the Silky counter. We didn’t carry as big of a selection as the Silky stores, but they had a presence—the latest glittery body lotion and lip gloss collections next to a few bottles of perfume. There was a new scent called Sun. I picked it up and smelled. It was all daisy and marigolds, mixed with a dewy rain scent. I loved it and put a spritz on, thinking I should buy a bottle before making my way outside.

It was beautiful out, the humidity strangely low for August, and I decided to walk a few blocks before ordering a rideshare. Allowing the fresh air to wash over me, I headed west, the sun setting in front of me.

What am I doing? I asked myself. I couldn’t shake the thought as I made my way to Eighth and pulled up the app for the car.

I hadn’t resolved a thing by the time I arrived at Mack’s club and strode into the lobby where he waited for me, in dark jeans like I’d sold Cam and a white dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves. If luscious and unachievable were a scent, it would be called Mack.

“Hi,” he whispered, pulling me in for a hug.

“Hey,” I found myself responding. “You okay?” I couldn’t help myself; I was strangely attracted to men who would destroy me. That was the only answer I could come up with.

“I’m good now,” he said for only me, his hand coming to my lower back as he guided me toward the elevators.

How could something feel incredibly right and wrong at the same time?

“Mr. Miller, right this way,” someone said as soon as we exited the elevator.

We were escorted to a table toward the back of the roof, a view of the pool and sunset looming in front of us.

“Corey called and set everything up,” Mack said as we sat. “Wish I could take credit, but I had a sales meeting I couldn’t ditch.”

I nodded as though we hadn’t shared this extremely emotional and physical moment the weekend prior.

Mack spoke first. “Let’s get a drink.”

“Let’s. I could use one.” Truer words had never been spoken.

Mack signaled for the server and ordered a mule for himself after asking me what I wanted.

“White, something crisp,” I requested.

“Thank you for coming. I know it’s been awkward, but texting and calling felt like the wrong way to discuss what is happening.”

“Happening?” I crossed my legs under the table, all sorts of tension crackling between us.

“I guess it’s solely about me. My reaction to the new letters, my feelings for you, all of this. Fuck, Frances, you turn me into a bumbling idiot.”

He leaned forward, staring me down with dark eyes swirling with a kaleidoscope of emotions. Need, confusion, and lust were what I felt the strongest.

He went on. “I don’t know what to say, or where to start… This doesn’t come naturally to me.”

“How about, ‘How was your day?’”

I suggested the question as our drinks arrived, so with his copper mug in hand, he said, “How was your day?”

“It was good…mostly the norm…my customers needing me, and I like that. It’s predictable, and they appreciate me in a way I crave, I guess. At the end of the day, I love it because it’s a feel-good transaction.”

“None of your customers give you a hard time?”

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