Page 58 of The Fun Part
When we wrap up, I stand, ready to make my escape, but no-o-o. Cal appears by my side. “Mackenzie, wait. I don’t think the other night was a mistake.”
I press my lips in a flat line, steeling myself against any treacherous sweetness. I won’t be fooled again.
“We have good chemistry,” he says.
I grab my satchel. “Ah, yes. Chemistry. And don’t forget friendship.”
He snags my wrist, his thumb stroking the soft underside. I yank my wrist out of reach.
“It’s a start,” he says. “Maybe—”
I meet his eyes, keeping my voice neutral. “Are you saying you want a relationship?”
He hesitates. And there’s my answer.
“I’m not sure what I’m saying,” he says. “The fake dating doesn’t feel fake anymore.”
“Why?”
He opens his mouth and closes it again.
“You told me you’re not good at relationships,” I say in a matter-of-fact tone like it doesn’t bother me in the least.
He clears his throat. “I’m not.”
“And you just got out of a serious relationship that ended badly. I’m not saying that was your fault, but it seems too soon for you to jump into something new. If that is what you’re hinting at. I can’t tell, and I don’t want to guess anymore.”
His brows draw together, but he says nothing.
I force a smile. “It’s fine. Really. A little space between us would be good before we can try being friends again, okay?”
“You’re the one who came on to me,” he says.
I suck in air. “Bye, Cal.”
I drag myself through the week. Thankfully, the rest of the work project withwhat’s-his-name, whom I am not thinking about, is through email. Nathan said he’ll take the final meeting withwhat’s-his-nameto review the papers that need signing since I handled the first meeting. Now it’s Thursday night, and I’ve hit an all-time low, finishing off a pint of Ben & Jerry’s chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream for dinner.
Harper’s not home, and she didn’t respond to my text. One of the nice things about growing up with Harper was finally having a sister to commiserate with. We were outnumbered at home with two brothers each. I count on her for this kind of misery.
I’m sick of wallowing. I grab my coat and head for Happy Endings. I’ll get a bite to eat of real food at the bar and be around people.
When I get there, my brother Cooper is bartending. He resembles Dad, tall with brown hair and brown eyes. He’smischievous like Dad, but also empathetic like Mom. That’s probably why distressed women drinking at the bar always used to share their problems with him. He became known as the rescuer of women. Rowan put her foot down, and now he’s friendly with distressed women, but no longer on rescue duty.
“Hey, big sis,” he says. “Is this a white wine or mojito night?”
“Wine, thanks.”
He grabs my favorite wine from the refrigerator and pours me a glass. “Everything okay? You don’t seem like your usual cheerful self.”
“I’m cheerful.”
He gives me a look as he hands over the glass. “Try again.”
I take a long swallow of wine. “Why do men suck?”
“Uh-oh.”
“Yeah.”
