Rolling my eyes despite my grin, I open my cupboard. “Yes, smart-ass, I have pasta.” I pull the ingredients down, then pull out my knife and cutting board and add some spinach and chicken to it.
Propping him up against the utensil holder, I wash my hands. He talks about everything and anything while I cook. I listen happily, glad I’m not alone.
“Sorry, I’m probably annoying you.” He winces, and I glance at him as I stir the chicken.
“If you were annoying me, I would tell you. I like listening to you,” I admit, and his wide smile makes me glad I shared that.
Mackie keeps me company as I cook, and instead of a chore, it feels like something fun again, but by the time I finish eating, he’s yawning. “Go get some sleep, you look exhausted. You have to be up early for training, right?”
He nods, covering his mouth. “Sorry, I’m crashing. I’ll speak to you tomorrow, okay?”
“Goodnight, Mackie,” I murmur.
“Night, Conan, have good dreams.” He’s gone, and I’m alone again, but I don’t feel as lonely as I did earlier.
Before work the next day, I stop off at my weekly appointment.
Cleaning off the headstone, I replace the old flowers before sitting back on my heels and offering a strained smile. Coming here used to hurt a lot, but it was where I felt closest to him. Over the last year or so, it’s started to get better, and instead of a place of pain, it’s become a place of sanctuary for me, but today I feel shy, like I am betraying him.
“Hey, cutie.” I breathe out slowly as I run my eyes over his name. “I miss you.” I do, although it’s more of a fleeting feeling now. Every now and then, it becomes so hard, I struggle to breathe, but it’s a constant in my life, one Mackie has eased, which is another source of my guilt. “I met him,” I admit, dropping my gaze to the grass. “The guy from that day? I met him again. I was just going to stay close and repay my debt, but it’s . . .” Sighing, I think of the right words. “Gotten complicated. He’s really nice and funny. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard. He has this sweetness, and the way he sees the world and people, it’s so innocent and refreshing. He’s handsome too. I . . .” I trail off, realizing I’m gushing about him.
“I like him, Warren. I’m sorry. I never meant to get involved or let him in, but I have, and I don’t think I can walk away. He’s the only thing that’s made me feel alive since I lost you. When I’m with him, I have hope. I’ve started to think about the future again. I don’t think Ican give that up. I’m so sorry. I know I promised to love you forever and never move on. I’m betraying your memory. I wish I could talk to you, so you could tell me what to do.” Tears fill my eyes. “I still love you, and I always will, but Mackie makes me happy. For the first time since I lost you, I’m smiling, and I know you’d want that, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling this . . .” I place my hand on my chest. “I know you’d hate that I’m hesitating. You’d tell me to move on and have fun, but I feel like I’m betraying you. I still can’t seem to stay away.” Shaking my head, I avert my gaze, blinking away the tears. “He’s so young and full of life. It isn’t fair to use him like this,” I admit before lapsing into silence.
“You’d like him,” I say. “He’s your type, both of our type.” I chuckle, and I know he would be too. “He bakes. You always loved sweet things. I wish you could taste them.” I kiss his name. “I don’t know where this will go, but when I’m sure, I’ll bring him to meet you. If he sticks around, that is, since I’m just an old dog with a broken heart.”
I lapse into silence, not sure what to say, when a text comes through. It’s from Mackie, and I hesitate, even as I smile.
Mackie: Remember to eat ;)
Chuckling, I type out a reply before opening his contact information and turning the phone. “See? Cute, right? We’d fight over him if you were still here. He’s good for me, I think, but I guess we’ll see. I’m probably overthinking things.” My eyes land on the time and I wince, hating how quickly it goes when I’m here.
“I better get to work. I’ll see you next week, okay?” I kiss his name again. “I love you. I always will. I need you to know that.” Standing, I pocket my phone and head out.
My heart is heavy, and my guilt is no less assuaged.
NINETEEN
Mackie is avoiding me, and I don’t blame him, but it makes me sad, nonetheless. I hide away in my office all day so he doesn’t feel uncomfortable while he’s at work. It’s the least I can do. It also means I’m staring at my couch, remembering the way he felt in my arms—perfect, like he was made to be in them.
I can still remember his scent. It drove me crazy, even as all the stress I’m always under faded. It was cruel for me to do it, but I couldn’t resist. Now, though, that I know how it feels, I want it again.
Despite me pushing him away and pretending I don’t remember the kiss, he looked after me. That’s the type of person he is, and it only makes me care for him more and solidifies the reason why I’m doing this. If he knew, he would spend the rest of my life caring for me, even if it broke his heart in the end. I won’t do that to him.
I don’t want to be the reason his sparkle dims.
By the time evening rolls around, I’m in a foul mood, and it doesn’t get any better since I am due home this evening for a family meal, which will more than likely be an assault about my life choices and their desire for my marriage. There’s no real way to prepare for it, but I shower and change since that will at least stop the comments about my attire and choice of job. I tuck the silk shirt into the perfectly pressedpants, topping it off with my boots since I can’t wear those god-awful oxfords my dad loves. My chain and rings are still in place, since there is only so much I’m willing to compromise, and it’s the best they will get.
I take the Rolls-Royce La Rose Noire Droptail to show that I’m using it. I don’t drive it to work or when I’m with the team. No one knows about my family, and that’s the way I like it.
It doesn’t take long to drive to the suburbs, and once I traverse the winding path to the hillside mansion monstrosity my father built, I pull through the iron gates and leave my car outside the canopied entrance. After tossing my keys to the butler, I head inside. My boots slap on the marble floors as I bypass the parlor and head straight to the dining room. I can hear the din of voices even from here. I take a deep breath and close my expression down. When I’m ready, I open the doors and step inside.
The chatter instantly stops, and I incline my head toward the thirty-two-seater dining table my father had handcrafted for this room. He sits at the head of it, his once black hair now peppered with gray but artfully styled. He wipes his mouth, careful of his neatly trimmed mustache, and leans back into the dramatic wingback chair, his designer suit crinkling with the movement. I look like him, more so than my mother, but I have her eyes. I glance at her as she sits taller, a small smile gracing her beautiful face. From here, I can see the latest designer dress draping her form.
I glance at the other guests and stiffen. I should have known. Amanda and her parents are seated as well, already eating.
Forcing a smile, I walk around the table and kiss my mother’s cheek. “Mother, you look incredible, as always.” Taking the seat to her left next to my father, I nod at him. “Sorry I’m late.”
He huffs. “You probably wanted to miss the entire meal. Honestly, we see you once a month. Can’t you be on time?” His tone is angry, and I stiffen but nod along, knowing it’s the easiest way.
