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Even knowing all of this, even having her eyes wide open to the inevitable ending, didn’t stop the hurt from spearing directly into her heart. Last night when they’d made love—and that’s exactly what they did—he’d looked into her eyes, he’d held her like a man who was falling. She’d thought for sure they were feeling the same thing.
What they shared was so much more than physical closeness. They’d had a deep bond long before their clothes fell off.
Sinking back against the pillows, throat tight and eyes burning, Jenna scolded herself. What would crying do? Mac would still be gone and she’d still be here looking like a complete and utter fool.
Part of her wished he’d taken off because he was afraid. At least then she’d know he’d seen her as something more than just a friend or a casual romp. Nothing about this entire week had been casual, but Mac was done here. He’d fulfilled his obligation, his friendly duties, and he was off.
Jenna clutched the sheet to her chest and rolled over, away from the scent of Mac’s pillow. The pain intensified the longer she lay there, but she couldn’t bring herself to get out of bed. She knew Mac left because he told her he would, and Mac always kept his word.
Where was he now? On a flight back to Barcelona or wherever he’d come from before riding to her rescue? Was he going to meet up with one of his ladies, resume his life as though it was business as usual?
Jenna wished like hell she could be that blasé about sex, but she just couldn’t. She’d grown up dreaming of finding the love of her life, of being with the man who made her heart flip in her chest. From the second she’d seen Mac at the party of a mutual friend, her heart hadn’t stopped flipping.
But they had completely different ideas regarding relationships...namely that he didn’t want one and she did.
Jenna forced herself to get out of bed. The sooner she could start packing and get to the airport, the better. Her flight didn’t even leave until later this afternoon, but she didn’t want to stay in this bed, in this bungalow a moment longer than necessary. She couldn’t handle the memories.
The past several days had been the best of her life. Her sister was happily married, her ex was off her back and Mac had set the new standard for any man who would enter her life next. He’d set the bar so high, in fact, she knew no other could ever reach it.
But wasn’t the end goal to get Martin to go away? Well, mission accomplished. The cheater wouldn’t attempt a reunion now.
As Jenna threw on a sundress and jerked her hair into a ponytail, she almost wished she’d just handled Martin on her own. Then she wouldn’t be dealing with this ache in her heart and an overwhelming sense of emptiness.
But how could she regret asking Mac to come here? He’d not only dropped everything to help her, he’d made her feel beautiful and given her a self-confidence she’d never known before.
And it was that confidence that fueled Jenna now. The hurt wasn’t going away, but a hefty dose of anger was settling deep alongside it. How dare he leave without a goodbye? Sure, he’d told her they were always going to be friends and, after the scam was up, that’s what they would return to. But even friends said goodbye, right? So why had he sneaked out of their bed as if he was ashamed of what they’d done? Could he not face her anymore? Was he in that big of a hurry to get where he was going, to get away from her?
Jenna slammed her suitcase onto the messy bed and started throwing stuff in. She wanted answers and she wanted them now. Texting wasn’t going to cut it. She intended to find Mac and demand he tell her why he just left as if she was some cheap date or a one-night stand. She deserved better, damn it.
And isn’t that what he’d told her all along?
* * *
Mac stormed into the O’Shea family home in Beacon Hill. Braden lived here with Zara. Well, the two went back and forth because neither stubborn party would sell their home. Understandably, Braden didn’t want to relinquish what was theirs and Zara didn’t want to let go of her late grandmother’s house. Thus the stalemate.
The house seemed quiet. Too quiet. No staff? Someone was always milling about during the day.
Mac glanced from room to room and listened for evidence of any activity at all. Upstairs he heard a bedroom door close so Mac made his way up the wide, curved staircase.
When he reached the landing, Braden was heading down the steps. His brother’s eyes locked on to Mac’s.
“This isn’t a good time,” Braden murmured as he bounded down the stairs. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
