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“But we need to talk,” she says.
“Okay…” I tip my head to the side. “What about?”
“Us. If I take the promotion, I have to move back to New York. Next week.” Her eyes catch mine again and for a minute I’m lost in them. I still can’t work out why she’s so freaked out. “We’ve only just found each other.”
And then it dawns on me. She’s scared. The woman who insisted that we were just for now is scared that her words will come true.
“Ifyou take the promotion?” I repeat. “Don’t you mean when?”
She swallows. “Not if it means losing you.”
Fireworks go off inside of me. And I start to laugh. It’s partly relief and partly disbelief because she needs to get to know me better. She needs to understand that I’ve waited my whole life for her.
A few hundred miles aren’t going to be a problem.
I cup her face with my hands, still grinning.
“What’s so funny?” she asks.
“You, mostly.” I shake my head. “You think you can scare me off with a promotion and a move?”
“I…”
“You can’t,” I tell her. “There are planes. There are cars. There’s a whole summer when I get a break and I’m sure you have PTO, too. There are weekends and holidays and there’s the rest of our damn lives to work this out.” I brush my lips against hers. “Because we will work it out. I’ll give up hockey if I have to, become your sex slave.”
Her lips twitch. “What does that involve, exactly?”
“I’ll show you later,” I promise. “We’ll call it an audition. But I’m serious, Mac. This is good news.”
“I heard you were in the building,” a female voice calls out. I look over at a woman wearing a severe black dress and even more severe lipstick. “Oh,” she says, seeing my arms around Mackenzie. “Ooooooohhhhhhh.” This one has at least five syllables.
Mac smiles. “Rachel.” She beckons her over. “This is Eli. Eli, this is Rachel. My best friend.”
“You’re the hockey player,” Rachel says, eyeing my hoodie. “The second best looking Maverick.”
“Second?” I ask, because at heart I’m a competitive motherfucker.
“The Swede is my first,” she says. “I have a thing for cheekbones and coffee.” She folds her arms in front of her chest. “So what’s going on? Everybody’s saying you got fired.”
“She got a promotion,” Eli says.
“Of course she did.” Rachel sighs. “It explains everything.”
“It does?” Mackenzie asks.
“Yep. You hate happily ever afters. Remember when we went to see that reshowing ofTitanic.” She looks at me, and I smile because we have something in common. We both love this woman.
“You got into a mood because Leo died,” Mackenzie says. “You wanted to hunt down James Cameron and egg his house, despite the fact we’re both grown women, the movie was made thirty years ago, and we both know they wouldn’t have fit on that damn door.”
“They would have,” I interject helpfully.
“See.” Rachel throws up her hands. “There was a perfect way to get an HEA, but no. Miss Pessimistic here decided to pee in my cornflakes about it.”
“We’re not doing this again,” Mackenzie warns her friend. “Last time we discussed this you didn’t talk to me for two days.”
“I’m just saying that art needs to have happiness,” Rachel counters. “Or at least the hope of happiness. But you don’t like that. You’re more comfortable when everything goes wrong. Maybe you even like it. Happily ever afters are scary for you.”
“Maybe I just know that they’re not possible,” Mac says, but her heart isn’t in it. Her brows knit and she looks at me. I’m trying not to smile back at her because I’m enjoying their conversation too much.
