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With a sigh of relief, she drops her head back and looks up at the cab’s ceiling. “Hallelujah. I’m not gonna lie. I almost had a heart attack.” She laughs. “I mean, I don’t have a thing against kids or anything. I actually really like them. But it would be weird explaining how we’re only friends, our age difference, and how I’m coming over to hang out and do nothing? Can you imagine?” She laughs a little harder and covers her mouth as I pull up to the front of my place. But I don’t join her. I can’t.
Sensing the change in my demeanor, she turns to me again, her tone softening. “Mack? What did I say?”
“Nothing. It’s, um… My daughters don’t really talk to me anymore, so the idea of introducing you to them is a little strange.”
She frowns, reaching out and touching my thigh as if she wants to comfort me. The realization is foreign. I haven’t had anyone try to comfort me in a long time.
“Why don’t they talk to you anymore?” she asks.
I look down at her hand on my thigh. “It’s like I said. Summer is…loud. She wasn’t afraid to tell our daughters her opinion of me. And don’t get me wrong. I know I’m not perfect, and I know they witnessed a lot of fighting between their parents. Still, I wish they could disconnect their opinion ofhusbandMack withfatherMack.”
“Makes sense,” she replies. “Do you still reach out to them?”
“Every day,” I answer, my tone a little lighter. “I send texts, memes, TikTok’s. Something to let them know I’m thinking about them.”
“Do they ever reply?”
“Every once in a while. I got a Happy Father’s Day message for the first time this year from Miley, so it’s something.”
She smiles. “That’s amazing, Mack. Seriously.’
“It’s something,” I repeat wryly.
She squeezes my thigh again and places her hand back in her lap. “It’s something amazing. Keep texting. Keep reaching out. They might not show it, but I can guarantee it matters. Everyone needs their dad, even when they’re crappy at admitting it.”
“Speaking of parents,” I muse. “Have you told them about the incident yet?”
Her pretty lips clamp shut.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
“It'll only stress them out,” she argues. “And trust me when I say I’ve already caused enough stress during my childhood to last them a lifetime.”
“Yeah, but they love you.”
“I know they do. And I love them,” she adds. “Once I get my license back, I’m going to visit them again. They might be obnoxious and overbearing, but I do miss them. And overall, they’re pretty awesome parents.”
“I think it’s great, Kate. That you have such a good relationship with them.”
“It’s something,” she returns, throwing my own words back in my face. “Now, enough sad talk. Come on. I wanna see your house.” She bounces her eyebrows up and down and pushes the passenger side door open, ready to get to work.
16
KATE
To say his house is gorgeous would be an enormous understatement. The place feels masculine yet homey, with dark green cabinets, maple-colored floors, white walls, and a huge stone fireplace in the family room on the opposite side of the open floor plan. Seriously. It looks like it belongs in a magazine or something.
“You designed this?” I ask, turning on my heel and peeking out the massive windows at the beautiful view of the entire town below.
“Yeah. Built it myself.”
“Wait.” I lift my index finger before waving it around. “Youbuiltthis?”
“Most of it. Had to hire a few things out, but…”
“Holy crap, Mack. Are you serious?”
He laughs. “It’s not a big deal.”
