“Good morning,” he says with a smile and hands me the cup.
“What’s this?”
“Coffee. A little cream and sugar. A road trip necessity.”
I step to the side and let him into the suite. He remembered what kind of coffee I like. This simple detail takes the wind out of me, and I take a second to compose myself while Mac sizes up our space.
He swivels his head, taking in Jade’s living room decor, the kitchen that’s nearly always tidy because I clean when I’m stressed, the piles of blankets everywhere because we’re always cold. I leave him there to grab my bag, which Mac promptly takes from me, throwing the strap onto his shoulder.
“Shall we?”
“You don’t need to carry my bag.” I reach for it, but he takes my hand, gently lowering it to my side.
“I actually do. I was cursed at birth by a witch to be a gentleman. So I have to carry bags for damsels and open doors and all manner of gentlemanly things.”
“A gentleman, huh? Your curse seems to have some spotty rules.”
“The witch was drunk.”
I chuckle and shake my head, locking the door behind us as we leave.
The car ride, although two hours, is too short, and we mostly fill it with Black Phantom songs and speculation about their upcoming music. We find other things to talk about too, because as it turns out, Mac and I enjoy a lot of the same things. By the time we arrived at his house, my cheeks hurt from all the smiling and laughing. But as we pull into the driveway, nerves get the best of me. My palms start to sweat and my stomach roils.
Mac’s house is huge. It’s exactly the same kind of house I saw in the rich neighborhoods near my home. It’s at least two stories, and there are so many windows I can’t even begin to count them. It looks like two or three houses attached to each other. There’s a three-car garage, and I have no doubt three very expensive cars sit in there. Multiple luxury cars are already in the driveway.
I chew on the inside of my lip. This is too fancy. I pluck at my old T-shirt. Jade told me I was welcome to anything in her closet, but I wanted to be as comfortable as possible. Now I’m wondering if I should have taken her up on her offer.
Mac takes my hand in his for a moment and gives it a squeeze. “It’s going to be a little chaotic in there, but you’ll be okay. And if you need a break, just signal me, and I’ll find us a quiet place.”
I nod and take a sharp breath in and out through my nose. We gather our things from the car, Mac grabbing both of our bags and his fresh sourdough loaf. I wish he was still holding my hand to ground me, to steady me. But I steady myself, counting my steps and my breaths.
Mac opens the door to his house and we step into a huge foyer with an enormous glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling. My brain can’t decide what to process first: the absolutely heavenly smells coming from the kitchen, the noise from a huge family laughing and yelling over each other to be heard, or the grandiosity of Mac’s home. A wide staircase twists up along the wall and to a hallway on the upper level. The carpet on the stairs is so white and plush I want to bury my toes in it, and also to avoid it completely. Has anyone ever stepped on that carpet? The hardwood of the foyer is practically shining it’s so clean, and in fact everything is so pristine it doesn’t look like anyone lives here.
I check to see if I should remove my shoes, but Mac keeps his on, so I do too. We walk down the short hallway right in front of us, ignoring the two rooms off to the side of the foyer. Framed family photos and artwork line the walls, the only sign so far that this house isn’t actually a museum. I try to stop and look at every one of them, but Mac doesn’t stop for me, so I don’t bother. The hallway leads to the biggest open-concept kitchen/living room I’ve ever seen in person. I’ve only seen spaces like this in movies.
The room is definitely full with more than just Mac’s brothers and partners. There are people here of all ages—some older couples and a couple of young kids. I wasn’t anticipating this many people, and when I look over at Mac to ask why he didn’t tell me they’d all be here, it becomes clear he didn’t know about them either.
“Mac!” someone yells, and the whole room collectively turns and shouts. People start to step forward and hug Mac, slapping him on the back.
I hang back toward the hallway entrance, my hands clasped in front of me, fingers tight. Awkwardness clings to me like a bad odor. I’ve made a huge mistake. This is too many people.
My heart is beating too fast, and I have to swallow away the nausea. I dig my fingernails into the back of my hand to ground myself. I’m lightheaded and try to lean against the doorframe as casually as I can.
Maybe I can tell Mac I’m sick and that I need to go home. But we’re hours away from school and I could never afford an Uber back. Mac would have to drive me, but we just got here, and there’s already food on the table. I can’t ask him to leave his family just because I don’t want to be here anymore. Tears prick my eyes, my face heats, and the room starts to get really small. My breath picks up, and in just a minute I’m going to puke.
And then Mac turns back around to me. He must realize what’s happening because he takes my hand and leads me back out into the foyer without a word to anyone else.
“Hey, what’s going on? You okay?” He stays close, a hand on my back, his brow furrowed.
I nod even though I’m not actually okay. I lean into him, resting my forehead against his chest. I wrap my arms around him, and he does the same, rubbing small circles on my back.
“It’s just a lot of people. And I…”I feel like I stick out like a sore thumb. In a bad way.
“They’re going to love you, I swear,” he murmurs into my hair. “And we don’t even have to talk to everyone. Or anyone.”
The nausea subsides and my heart slows. How did he know that was what I needed to hear? I lift my head and meet Mac’s eyes. He looks at me the way men in movies look at their love interest. There should be music and dim lighting. Other people should be swooning at us right now.I’mswooning. Mac is looking at me the way all girls dream of being looked at. My eyes drift to his lips and back up to his eyes. His eyes do the same, and suddenly Mac’s house doesn’t feel so big. His chest against mine, I feel his every inhale and exhale. We both lean in.
It’s nearly imperceptible, but a loud group laugh from the living room breaks the spell. We both blink a few times, shaking off the moment we just shared.
