Page 66 of My Dearest Mackenzie

Instead of crying happy tears, I pretended to glare at Mack before saying, “Nice to meet you, Spencer. I won’t hold the date against you.”

Spencer took my hand and kissed it. “Frankie, I understand Frances is only for our dear Millsy to call you.”

I giggled like a schoolgirl. “Millsy has so many rules,” I teased.

Spencer shined a half smile, half smirk on me. With a wink he said, “That man does have too many rules, if you ask me.”

“Millsy is standing right here, so how about we get a drink and quit all the secret reveals?” Mack spoke in the third person, with an eyebrow raised.

He was absolutely adorable in an approaching-fifty way. I wanted to kiss my man’s face off, but I resisted.

After Mack suggested the drink, I said, “That would be too easy.”

“Easy is good…” He winked again, and I was officially smitten.

Spencer, who was watching the two of us, his gaze ping-ponging between our jabs, put his arm around me and said, “Come on, we can talk on the way. I like this little peanut.”

I went easily with Mack’s friend, who told me his best bud was a goner when it came to me. In turn, I told myself he was being kind.

Music played in the background, Bob Seger crooning “The Little Drummer Boy,” and candles burned on every windowsill as we joined a few more of Mack’s crew at the bar. A guy named Ryan handled introductions, and laughs were had… They’d apparently missed seeing Mack at Chelsea Piers or their exclusive golf club to hit some balls around, but he’d been busy with me, so they’d accept it.

I marveled at how the glitter theme had been carried up from downstairs. Between the holiday decorations, the champagne I’d ordered, and Mack’s friends all sharing the same thoughts—Mack was a goner—I was certainly consumed too.

Ryan was back to detailing how Mack’s golf game was going to shit because his mind had been on me. He was teasing and we were all smiling, and Mack winked at me.

Leaning in close, he whispered, “Let’s not tell them I’ve been playing with you.”

I couldn’t help but giggle; I was not a decent golf partner by any stretch of the imagination. It was one of the happiest moments of my life.

“Except, one great thing is he is using the Hamptons house again! We can’t wait for an invite,” Ryan quickly added.

“You have your own house,” Mack deadpanned, looking handsome in the charcoal gray suit we’d picked together, a Burberry tie that complemented the red in my dress, and velour loafers.

“You have a pool,” Ryan clapped back to Mack.

My mind wandered to the Hamptons, the special times we’d had there, and how it had somewhat become our place. I was deep in a memory of the pool when someone tapped on my shoulder. Before turning, I noticed a sour expression color Mack’s face.

“Jeremy.” His name slipped out of my mouth without warning as I turned and caught sight of who was behind me.

“Frankie, you’re here,” he said, his tone neither warm nor inviting.

I noted the tall brunette hanging on his side, too skinny, wearing a dress a size too small, and oblivious to who I was.

“Merry Christmas,” was all I could manage to say. I felt a seismic shift in the energy around me.

One second, I’d been standing with Ryan, sharing jokes, and in my mind reliving skinny-dipping with Mack. And the next, Mack was standing beside me, extending a hand to my ex-husband.

“Mackenzie Miller,” he offered, not giving his nickname. This wasn’t a pleasant introduction.

“Jeremy Ross.”

I watched the unlikely pair shake hands, swallowing back pride, fear, and agitation.

“What are you doing here?” The question flew out of my mouth faster than I could control it.

“Me? Well, I have many clients who go here…as you know…and I am invited here often. As for you, this doesn’t seem like the type of place a retail salesperson belongs, does it?”

I mentally pleaded with my ego to take his comments in stride.

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