Me:
MacKenzie: You are an infant.
Me: Nah. A toddler, at least.
I watched as three dots appeared, indicating she was typing. They stopped and started twice more.
Me: You laughed. Admit it.
MacKenzie: I will do no such thing.
MacKenzie:Give me the D, Brady.
Me: Anytime, honey. Just say the word.
MacKenzie: Jesus. You stole that letter just so you could make that joke.
Me: I have a commitment to comedy, Macintosh. Don’t be jelly.
MacKenzie: Maybe this calls for a hostage situation. Perhaps I’ll steal something from you. Get ready for payback.
Oh, she’d already stolen something, alright.
I typed,I can’t wait.
I could feel the edges of my smile as I stared down at the phone in my hand. I was glad we still had this. The surprises, the silliness, the fun, the competition.
I thought, hopefully, I could spend a lifetime giving her hell and making her like it—making her love it.
As I eagerly awaited whatever retaliation was coming my way, I opened the Chatter app and drafted another fruitless post that would never see the light of day. Maybe this was like therapy for me—a way to express myself in a healthy way without fear or judgment.
Ah, well, whatever it was, I was doing it.
@JuddsFamilyOrchard: @GrandpappysApples, Hostage negotiations are open. I have a slightly used, decent condition keyboard letter in exchange for your fierce and equally tender heart. You’ve already stolen mine. Don’t think you need two.
eighteen
MAC
“I can’t believe I missed Brady Judd at family dinner,” my sister pouted at my side.
I took a sip of my beer and continued to ignore the conversation.
Bonnie and Danny hadn’t been able to make it to Aunt Maggie’s last night. Although I didn’t see my ridiculous aunt chasing them down in her side-by-side, but whatever.
We were at Monday night trivia at Trailview, and Larry was giving my sister a complete play-by-play of yesterday’s eventful dinner with Brady in attendance.
Danny was suspiciously absent from the table, but so was Kayla. We’d drafted Becca to come and join us from her normal team. Now, the four of us were ready. If only the emcee would get this show on the road so everyone at my table would stop obsessing over Brady.
“It was something to behold,” Larry said, nodding sagely. “I thought Mac was going to have an aneurysm. But that Brady, he was cool as a cucumber.”
“A natural charmer,” Becca added sweetly.
I caught my eye roll mid-rotation and drained the rest of my IPA.
“It’s not a big deal, y’all,” I insisted. “Maggie happened upon usfighting,” I emphasized, “while I was busy planting your sunflower field, Becca Marie.”
The blond’s cheerful features turned sheepish. “Sorry.”
