Page 106 of The Games We Play
Penny: It’s a date (;
Penny: How many books are too many?
Mac: I don’t think there is a right answer to the question… It feels like a trick.
Mac: How many would make you happy?
Penny: A man after my heart…
Penny: Did you want to come over for dinner tomorrow night?
Mac: Let me get Jolie to cover my shift and I’m in
Mac: Can I bring anything?
Penny: Just yourself (;
32
MAC
Arush of déjà vu swept over me so suddenly it made me pause. I’d been in this exact moment before—or something close to it a few months ago. Same nerves, same anticipation. Same girl.
I dampened my fingertips under the faucet and ran my hands through my hair, smoothing down the loose strands to curl behind my ears.
After a quick spin in front of the mirror, I nodded once to myself, turned off the bathroom light, and stepped into the living room.
Flowers—check. Phone, wallet, keys—check.
For the second time in just over a week, I’d managed to get a shift covered at the bar. That was saying something.
Before all this, I never took time off. I was the guy tocover, not the one who needed covering. When Dudley, Jolie—hell, sometimes both at once—called, I was always there.
That had been part of my problem. I didn’t know how to give myself a life outside of that building. If I spent time with friends, it was within those four walls, sneaking in laughter between drink orders and last calls. I’d never been good at carving outspace for joy, not intentionally. That was a foreign language I never learned to speak.
“You be a good boy,” I said, pointing at Angus, who offered a long-suffering sigh before flopping onto his side like the dramatic prince he was.
“Don’t give me that attitude,” I muttered, grinning. That dog had more sass than most people I knew.
Pulling on my boots, I jogged down the stairs and through the bar—flowers in one hand, cigarette in the other. Outside, I paused at the edge of the sidewalk, slipping the bouquet between my knees as I lit the end of the cigarette. The paper crackled, and I drew in a slow breath, holding the smoke in my lungs for a beat before letting it go.
The weather was warm, the last golden rays of the day slipping behind the mountain ridge. The town was quiet in that almost-sacred, in-between hour when the day is ending but night hasn’t quite begun.
I walked in peace, savoring the feel of this—the moment before something good.
Going over to have dinner at her place was Penny’s idea. Through nonstop texting, late-night FaceTime calls, over the last few days, I’d earned my spot at her dinner table—in her sanctuary—this time invited.
People passed me on the sidewalk, their eyes flicking briefly to the bouquet in my hand before moving on. No one stopped, no one asked.
Not that I wanted them to. I’d watched people devour every detail of Boone’s life, pick apart Ellie’s departure like it was a movie they were all entitled to direct. I didn’t crave that. I liked being a quiet mystery.
I smiled, taking another slow drag before letting the smoke drift out and up.
When I reached Penny’s place, I stomped out my cigarette and tucked the butt into the container near the stairs before pulling open the door.
As I jogged up the steps, a rush of happiness surged through me at the thought of seeing her again, so much so that I skipped the formality of knocking. She had a bad habit of leaving her door unlocked, something I knew probably would never change. I twisted the knob and stepped inside, instantly greeted by the sound of music floating from a speaker and the sight of Penny in the kitchen, barefoot, dancing slightly as she stirred something on the stove.
Her eyes caught mine the second I walked in.
