Macy got a call the very next day from Penelope.
“It’s my fault,” Penelope said. “Please forgive Deacon.”
Macy gripped the phone. “I don’t want to talk about it, Penelope. Thank you for caring about me. I know you meant well.”
“So did he,” Penelope said.
“He misled me,” Macy explained patiently. “Did he ask you to call me?”
“Absolutely not. He can fight his own battles. I just happened to see him at Harris Teeter and asked him how things were going, and he told me.”
“He’d better not get the other girls to call me.”
“He’s not like that,” said Penelope. “He’s a stand-up guy, Macy. I’m sorry how things worked out between you two.”
“Thank you for thinking of me,” Macy said.
“Or course.” Penelope hesitated. “I feel terrible about this.”
“Please don’t.” Macy suppressed a sigh.
“He’s the real deal, Macy. Don’t give up on him, okay?”
“There’s nothing to give up on,” she said quietly. “There’s nothing between us at all.” It had all been fake, a game Deacon had set up. “So feel free to continue hanging out with him, Penelope. You two have become friends, and I don’t want to stand in the way of that.”
After five more minutes of attempting to sway Macy to call Deacon or go see him, Penelope quit trying.
But a few days later, Macy saw Deacon and Penelope together on King Street. She was carrying a bunch of shopping bags. Deacon had some too. They were talking. Penelope was smiling. At least they weren’t holding hands.
Even so, it felt like someone had stabbed Macy through the heart.
Fran and George knocked on her door one night, asking her to come over. They both admitted that Deacon had told them the situation.
“He’s not perfect,” said Fran. “And he’s leaving so soon. Please don’t let this stand between you.”
“He’s crazy about you,” said George. “And I encouraged him in his shenanigans. I told him all is fair in love and war.”
“You shouldn’t have,” Macy chided George.
“I know that now. Come over and have a drink. Let’s all make up.”
“It’s more complicated than that,” Macy said. After hugging them both, she begged off. “You can come over here, though. Any time.”
But when they left, she knew she wouldn’t be calling them to do that. It hurt too much to see them without Deacon. And she didn’t like to think of him leaving. Despite everything, she’d miss him. Every adventure she’d ever had had always been an event, or a place.
Not a person.
But Deacon himself felt like the adventure, all on his own.
That was why she’d miss him.
Charleston’s charms would dim—just a fraction, she assured herself—when he went back to New York.