Page 70 of My Dearest Mackenzie

“That too,” he said softly. “I love all of it.” He traced my mouth with his thumb. “I love this mouth, even when you’re kicking my ass with your wit and snark. I want to kiss that mouth forever, Frances. As you know, that isn’t a word I ever used. Forever was not for me. But there is no temporary when it comes to you. Not one night or month or even a few years. A lifetime wouldn’t be enough time with you.”

“Mackenzie.” I whispered his full name, the one reserved for the only other woman he’d ever loved—Milly.

“I want you and only you, Frances Lily. Making you happy is my newest mission. Our grandparents died without being their happiest, and I don’t want that for you—”

“Or you,” I interrupted.

“Us,” he responded. He ran his nose along mine. “I’m sorry we fought. I’m ashamed of my family—again. Susie had no right to accuse you of those things, and I know they’re not true. She wanted me to get involved with Tom’s business contact, and I don’t do her bidding. But it doesn’t matter who she wants me to be with because I choose you, and her opinion of anyone is inconsequential to me. That being said, she knows if she ever mutters a nasty syllable about you again, I will ruin her.” He leaned in and gave me a soft kiss. “Will you have me, Frances? Forever?”

It was just like Mack to lay down a gauntlet like that with Susie and move on with more important business…although I had no idea what he was saying. Was he proposing?

“I need to know you want me as much as I want you. To love and care for, to laugh and cry, to have fun and fight.”

I found the words to say, “I don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I’m asking if you’ll have me. I want to know if you’ll forgive me for my family’s mistakes and transgressions. I need to know if you’ll allow me to make you happy the best I can. Formal proposal to come later…” He smiled on the last part, his eyes crinkling.

“I never intended to fall for you…or have you fall for me…or take your money,” I started.

“Shhh.” He repeated his earlier sentiment. “I know. I knew before you ran out of here. And after, but I had to do what my grandmother couldn’t do—make it known who I love and choose. You are first in my life, and everyone needed to know that.”

“I love you, Mackenzie, and I want to make you happier than you’ve ever been.”

“You already do. Only you, that’s all I need.”

I ran my hand on his cheek and stared into his gaze.

He tilted closer and ghosted his palm over my stomach. “Well, that’s not true. I want to have a baby with you, Frances. I want that with you. If we can.”

“Maybe I can’t.” It was a whisper. I remembered our conversation a month ago when he’d asked if I felt I was missing out on not being a mom.

“We can try. I will be by your side the whole time.” He spoke softly. “Nothing you can do will disappoint me. I only want you to have everything in this world.”

He was on a jag, a solo mission to appease me and give hope. I already knew him well enough not to try and derail him. I wasn’t sure if I could have babies. The doctors hadn’t ruled it out, but my late miscarriage had scared me into thinking so. But there was no explaining that to this pigheaded man.

“I’ll think about it,” was all I said, not admitting that having a baby and failing at that exact pursuit dominated my thoughts ninety percent of the time. I could have included other ideas, like adoption, but it wasn’t the time. I knew Mack meant for us to create a life…

“That’s enough for me,” he whispered.

His mouth was on me before I could say anything more. He slid me up the bed and onto the pillows, kissing me with a fervor we hadn’t experienced thus far.

Nuzzling my neck, he brought his palm up my sweater, smoothing along my now warm skin. “I’m digging the look, but can we lose the sweats?”

For a flash, I thought about how quickly I’d forgiven Mack, but I didn’t rush over there to fight. I wanted Mackenzie Miller now and always, so I simply said, “Yes.”

He yanked my pants down with a whoosh, revealing the fact that I’d also run out of the house without panties.

“Happy New Year to me,” was his response.

He slithered down the bed, his tongue immediately finding my heat. He continued to whip me into a frenzy, pausing right before I toppled over well into the next year. In fact, I didn’t think he actually slid into me until two or three in the morning—because I graciously returned the oral favor, following in his deliciously teasing efforts.

The next morning, we woke in a tangle of sheets, my glitter sweater strewn about the bed, and Mack asking, “Can you put the heels on? Just the heels?”

This was going to be a fun year, or decade…

Spencer stood under the canopy of birch branches covered in lace and bright roses and lilies, waiting to marry Frances and me. We took our time as we walked down the aisle together, Frances’s arm woven through mine, our heat radiating into one another.

It was a mutual decision to traverse the sandy path like this, both of us realizing we thought the entire “giving someone away” custom was a bit archaic and not necessary, considering our ages. Not to mention Frances didn’t want her father intimately involved with the occasion and my dad was gone. A small stroke of luck had Frances’s parents on a trip to California during our wedding—it might or might not have been on purpose. As for my mom, we had recently heard she was suffering, and we—Frances, really—decided to help her find a nursing home to live in…and pay for…but that wasn’t a story for this day.

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