Page 67 of Forged By Sacrifice

“I was fine before I met you,

I was broken but fine.

I was lost and uncertain,

But my heart was still mine.”

Performed by Gwen Stefani

Written by Michaels / Tranter / Stefani

I’d thought that the two-hour car ride with Mac and Dani would have allowed me a chance to study. My first week of classes had resulted in a workload that probably would have overwhelmed me if I hadn’t started reading ahead of time. I had no intention of falling behind. But Dani had jumped in the back, leaving me to make conversation with Mac, who’d used the time to make good on the agreement of getting to know each other better.

During the week, I had considered telling Mac I couldn’t go for a gazillion different reasons. But every time I thought about it, I’d remember his words about forever in a kiss, and I couldn’t. Suddenly, the thought of getting to know Mac better was as tantalizing as the research I was doing for Theresa. Maybe more. Definitely more.

My head was still screaming at me about all the reasons a relationship between Mac and me would never work.

A relationship he’d never had.

A relationship I was fairly certain I didn’t want.

But my heart was already speaking a different tune than my brain. My heart and mind were out of sync, harsh notes that were colliding against each other, and I wasn’t sure how to bring them back into harmony again.

I’d packed the night before after asking Dani what I needed to bring with me. Her response had been, “Everything.”

When I’d looked puzzled, she laughed. “We’ll be in the pool, on the courts, in the sand, barbecuing, and at the country club, which means you’ll need bathing suits, shorts, dresses, and everything in between.”

I’d never put it together that Dani and Mac were from a wealthy family. They’d never acted snobby or entitled like many of the socialites I knew in New York or my mom’s friends in Russia. Instead, the Whittaker siblings had always been real and down-to-earth with me. But then, Dani was talking about pools and courts and country clubs as if it was the norm, and it made me look around the apartment once more with new eyes. The decorations were understated but expensive. High-end quality. Dani had said the family owned the apartment with its view of the Capitol. But again, I hadn’t really thought about what that meant. Money.

When I was in Russia, visiting Mom and Petya, I was used to being surrounded by obnoxious wealth. Petya’s livelihood had Mom and my siblings living in a mansion that had once belonged to Russian royalty and was decked out in art and gold. Whenever I was there, Mom took me on shopping sprees that were paid for by Amex cards with limits that boggled the mind. But every time Petya had offered money to help with college or living expenses, I’d turned him down. I didn’t want to owe Petya anything. Because, even in my teens, I’d understood that what he did wasn’t on the up and up.

Needless to say, I wasn’t unfamiliar with wealth. I wasn’t even uncomfortable around it. I just hadn’t really been prepared for it to be Mac’s and Dani’s life. It was the second or third time, at least, that I’d made assumptions about Mac that weren’t true. I hadn’t been dealing in facts with him at any time since first meeting him. Descartes would have lost hope in me by now.

At the end of our car ride, we pulled up to a black wrought-iron gate with a ginormous, cursive W welded into it. Dani said the Whittakers had resided in and around Greenville for generations. This seemed impossible to me. History that far back. Because even when visiting Russia, none of Petya’s possessions had been his family’s possessions. He’d garnered them all himself.

The wrought-iron gate hung between two brick columns. Mac hit a button in the car, and the gate swung open to reveal a driveway made out of cobblestones that curled away from the street. The landscape was green, and floral, and definitely manicured.

When we pulled up to the house, I stared at it in astonishment. It was like a combination of Mount Vernon and the White House rolled into one. It even had the same type of semi-circular, curved portico with columns that the south-facing view of the White House had. It was old-world charm dropped right in the middle of Delaware. And while it was smaller than the real White House, it was still a mansion by all terms.

The front door opened, and a woman who looked like Dani came out. It wasn’t until I’d unbuckled and gotten out of the car that I realized it had to be their mother instead of their older sister. She was elegant with hardly any wrinkles, but as she got closer and her smile got wider, I could see the laugh lines that appeared on her face. It was the same smile Dani and Mac shared. The only difference between her and Dani was that her eyes were hazel instead of blue.

“Georgia, it is such a pleasure to meet you.” She stuck out her hand, and I took it, but then she pulled me into a hug I hadn’t expected because I was sure I’d crush her outfit. She didn’t seem to care.

“It’s so nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Whittaker,” I responded with a smile after stepping out of her embrace.

“It’s Clare, darling. We’ve never been a formal family.”

I wanted to laugh because their house disagreed with her statement. Mac came around the car with my suitcase in one hand and his in the other. Dani was toting her own. I reached for mine, but he didn’t let go.

Clare watched the exchange with a small smile before turning and heading back toward the door. I followed after Mac waved me ahead. When I entered, it was just what I’d expected, with a sweeping, colonial staircase, dark floors, and elegant chair rails. The kind of interior that never really went out of style. Beautiful and understated.

“Come on into the parlor. I have tea and lemonade waiting.” She turned to Mac. “Georgia is in the blue room across from you because you insisted she needed her own room.” Then, she looked at me and winked a wink that looked just like the one Mac had given me a few minutes before in the car. “I don’t know why he thinks we’re so old-fashioned. It’s not like Gabi and Bee haven’t been bringing their boyfriends home since their college days, and they never stayed in separate rooms.”

Dani laughed, and Mac choked. “Mom. I told you. Georgie is our roommate, not my girlfriend.”

She waved a hand at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be bringing those upstairs?”

She took my arm, joining us together like we’d known each other forever, and led me into the parlor as Mac and Dani both headed up the stairs with the bags.

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