Chapter Fourteen

Mack peeled out of the parking lot and onto the road. Her legs felt like jelly, her heart hammering from the fight, the sex, the mess of emotions boiling within.

She didn’t know where she was headed, just that she had to get away before Connor could confuse her any more. She reached for her phone and called Abbi at work.

“Weekend in Bellingham,” she said. “I’m driving. You in?”

“Sounds awesome!” Abbi chirped. “When are you thinking?”

“I’ll pick you up Friday at five.”

“Wait—you mean this weekend?”

“It’s this restaurant stuff,” Mack explained. “I need a break from meetings. I’m losing my mind.”

“I would, but I already told Connor I was coming for brunch on Saturday. Didn’t you say you were going to be there?”

“Shit.” Mack could have kicked herself. He’d invited everyone ages ago, before anything started between them. “I forgot. Why did I agree to that again?”

“Because you love French toast and want to see the rest of your friends?”

“I guess that qualifies. But can we go for the night? We don’t have to stay late. I just want to get out of here for a little bit. Please?”

Abbi may have found it strange Mack wanted to drive that far for dinner and a drink, but as Mack suspected, she wasn’t about to say no to a night out. Only the promise of their escape got Mack through the rest of the week.

…

The work was endless. The foreman said he could wait before making the sign for outside, but they still had to finalize the layout, and Sam’s design team needed time to source materials and come up with a plan—plus the menus and the logo needed a name, an image, a feel.

Mack rushed out after every meeting, making sure never to find herself alone with Connor. But that didn’t make it easier. By the end of the week, she was grateful for plans that had nothing to do with restaurants, renovations, or men.

She might have gone a little overboard, though. When Abbi got in the car, she raised an eyebrow approvingly.

“Damn, sweet pea. What’s gotten into you?”

Mack reddened—which thankfully Abbi took as a reaction to her clothes and not because the literal answer to that, Connor Branding, made her flush to her toes. She was wearing a tight black dress with killer boots and rich, smoky eyes, her hair straight and sleek around her face. She had to admit, she felt good. She needed this: a chance to step back from the swirl of emotions within her and breathe.

The bar had been a mistake. The lake was an afternoon that got out of hand. The phone—well, it was late. And since they weren’t in person, she was tempted to say it didn’t count. The parking lot was where it really felt like the line was thick, clear, and blindingly obvious—Mack could see it because she was waving at it from far beyond the other side. Could she seriously no longer keep her clothes on because a tall guy with lickable abs pressed her against a car and said now?

It would be one thing if he were her boyfriend. But there were risks she couldn’t take—not for someone who’d never reciprocate. Who’d be off chasing a newer, shinier toy faster than she could say stay.

And yet even though he didn’t plan to stick around, he was still hell-bent on keeping her from the one thing she’d ever asked him for: the restaurant name her mentor, father figure, and friend had wanted for her. How could she be so angry with Connor and want him at the same time? How could they be so good together and still so at odds?

She didn’t understand it. But right now, she didn’t want to. She cranked up the music and drove out of Gold Mountain, heading west to the coast. Abbi’s chatter about her job as a naturalist and the latest guy she’d broken up with was the perfect distraction. At their favorite sushi place they got a table with a view and sipped warm sake as the sun set over the water. For the first time since Sam told them the Dipper was in trouble, Mack felt herself relax. She wasn’t thinking about cocktails. Or Connor. Or anything having to do with the restaurant. She was enjoying the food, the company, the view.

Until Abbi slipped away to go to the bathroom and Mack’s phone buzzed in her purse. She groaned out loud when she saw who it was.

I have three new desserts.

Mack had no idea why he was telling her this. They hadn’t talked for days outside of meetings—not since she’d left him in the parking lot.

Congratulations? she wrote back, hoping he could read her sarcasm.

Almond torte, vanilla rhubarb cake, chocolate molten mini cakes.

Damn, those did sound good.

I need you to tell me if the rhubarb should be sweeter.

I’m in Bellingham, she said, and resisted the urge to add: Getting away from you.

Why would you go there when my food is so much better?

She didn’t respond.

Come over, he texted after a pause.

I told you, I’m out.

Come over later. The cake needs to cool.

She almost threw the phone across the room, but she’d hate for it to land in someone’s soup. We said we were stopping.

How can anyone turn down cake?

Can I eat the cake and not see you?

You can eat the cake while I eat you.

Shit. Shit. Mack was still staring at the phone with no idea how to respond when Abbi came back to the table. “That guy back there is hot as fuck,” she said, sliding a bright strand of bottle-red hair into place.

Mack turned over her phone, covering it with her hand. “Who?” she asked, swiveling around.

“Don’t look,” Abbi scolded, but Mack had already zeroed in on Abbi’s typical prey, a six-foot-tall guy in a motorcycle jacket with muscles the size of Mack’s thighs.

The guy caught them both looking and grinned, nudging his friend, who was a little more Mack’s speed: short hair, dimples, a heather-gray hoodie instead of the leather. Mack spun back around. “Go,” she said to Abbi. “I can wait.”

“He’s got a friend,” Abbi said, but Mack shook her head.

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not? You haven’t had any luck online, so why not try something in person?”

“I just…I don’t know. Not tonight.”

“Come on, you’re totally interested. Your face is bright red—I know that look.”

“I do not have a look.”

But it was too late. Abbi was already leaning forward and waving to the guys. “You do,” she whispered. “But you never let yourself go for it. It’s my job as your friend to stop you from standing in your own way.”

Then her face broke into a smile as the guys started over. Mack kicked her under the table, but Abbi shrugged and slid over in the booth, making room. Mack took advantage of the reshuffling to drop her phone into her purse, which she tucked by her side.

Motorcycle Man sat next to Abbi and Hoodie next to Mack, but Mack could hardly pay attention to a word they were saying. She could feel her phone vibrating in her purse. In her mind it was deafening, drowning out the guy next to her, who had turned toward her, one arm bent up and resting over the back of the booth, halfway to resting on her.

She remembered how many nights she’d seen Connor sitting with some woman at the restaurant. She’d always thought of him the way Abbi was right now: locked on the prize. Any prize. The one that happened to be there.

But maybe sometimes he was more like Mack was with Hoodie, thrown into something she hadn’t asked for, that was close to what she wanted but still not right. It was as though someone had taken her axis and tilted it in the wrong direction, so that while she didn’t know where she was supposed to be, she knew it wasn’t here, like this, with whatever was happening right now.

Abbi pulled out her phone to exchange numbers with her catch. She shot Mack a glance over the table, as though Mack needed a reminder as to how this game was played. Okay, fine. She’d do it. But when she grabbed her phone, she saw the most recent text from Connor.

FYI, I’m prepared to be persistent.

Annoyingly persistent? Mack wrote back, shielding the screen from the other guy’s eyes.

Connor wrote back with three smiley faces in a row.

Hoodie said, “Here, give me your phone and I’ll put in my number. Call me when the new restaurant opens. Or maybe I can take you out to dinner before then.” He smiled, a dimple in his left cheek, and Mack couldn’t ignore that he was genuinely attractive. And he knew how to do what Connor didn’t: talk to her, get her number, ask her out on an actual date.

She should say yes. It could be good. It at least wasn’t someone in Gold Mountain. Someone she’d known for years. Someone who communicated in emoticons.

She closed her messages and pulled up her contact list. She handed her phone over, fingers, toes, and eyeballs crossed that Connor wouldn’t text something obscene while the guy had her phone. When he passed it back, she saw he’d saved himself as Cute Adam.

“What about all the other Cute Adams in my phone?” It was out of her before she could stop herself.

Mack felt Abbi’s toe nudge hers under the table. Play nice, it warned. But how could she be expected to get through a whole dinner with someone who couldn’t make up a good comeback on the spot? Who couldn’t make fun of himself just a little?

“I’m the one from Bellingham?” he tried.

She forced a smile to smooth things over. “I’m kidding, you’re way cuter than all the other Cute Adams from Bellingham in my phone.”

He sort of laughed, but it was halfhearted. Mack couldn’t help wishing she could hear whatever zinger Connor would have come up with.

Things went downhill from there, until Motorcycle Man finally put them out of their misery by saying he had to take off. Mack was relieved when it was back to her and Abbi, although she tried to seem enthusiastic when she told Adam she’d call.

“At least one of us got a date out of that,” Mack said when they were alone.

“Yeah,” Abbi said. “You.”

“I was talking about you,” Mack said in surprise.

“Fat chance,” Abbi grumbled. “Other women got in the way.”

“What?”

“Two teenage daughters he’s supposed to pick up from their school dance tonight.”

“On that bike?”

“Next round of drinks says there’s a minivan back home.”

“And a wife?”

“He claims they’re ‘in the process of separating,’ whatever that means. But I’m not holding out for someone who’s not actually free. Especially if he’s late picking up his kids because he’s chatting someone up at a bar.”

“Sorry,” Mack said sympathetically.

“It’s okay, nothing happened. But you.” She shook her head. “Cute Adam was decidedly single, untethered, and into you, and you were decidedly not encouraging.”

“He was no fun,” Mack protested.

“He had dimples!”

“Where’s the witty repartee? Verbal foreplay? How’s he going to talk me to my knees if he gets tongue-tied at the simplest thing?”

Abbi shook her head.

“What?” Mack asked.

“You know if you want a sparring partner, I can think of one.”

Mack rolled her eyes. “I want someone who’ll talk to me, not make me miserable.”

Abbi grinned. “I love that you know exactly who I’m talking about. Because it’s true. You and Connor would be a perfect match—if either of you could see it.”

“I know you think I’m being picky,” Mack groaned, “but I’m looking for someone who can put a sentence together and knows when to shut up.”

“Speaking of—who are you texting with, anyway? I saw you grinning at your phone when I came back from the bathroom, and you definitely got a message while I was talking with what’s-his-face.”

“You’ve already forgotten his name?”

Abbi shrugged. “Out of sight, out of mind. Anyway, don’t think you can weasel out of answering my question.”

“Sure I can,” Mack said. “And it’s nothing. Claire being funny, asking if we’re having a good time. She was on round four of reading If You Give A Mouse a Cookie to Maya before bed.”

“I love that book.”

“I think it starts to lose its luster after round twenty or so.”

“Yeah, that’s how I feel about men and their cocks.”

They burst out laughing, made worse when they realized the couple sitting next to them had heard and looked over in shock.

“Come on,” Mack said, still giggling. “It’s late. We should get back.”

They were in the car, winding up into the mountains, when Mack’s phone vibrated again.

And again.

And again.

“Your phone’s blowing up,” Abbi observed.

“It’s probably Claire.”

“This late?” Abbi shook her head. “Claire’s been conked out for hours. Want me to check?”

“No!” Mack said way too loudly and grabbed her purse from Abbi, who’d picked it up to root for her phone. “I mean, I’ve got it.” The last thing she needed was for Abbi to see Connor texting her something dirty. Or, God, he’d probably send her a dick pic with some joking-but-not comment about dessert and Abbi would see it and freak. What part of I’m out with a friend didn’t that boy understand?

She pulled out the phone and glanced at it to confirm there weren’t any visuals.

He’d written: Run, don’t walk. This cake is that good.

Mack groaned out loud.

“Not Claire?” Abbi said.

“Connor,” she admitted. “Work stuff.”

“At eleven thirty on a Friday night?”

“What can I say, we’re workaholics.” Which Abbi would at least believe. “I can ignore it until tomorrow.”

“You can call him if you need to, I don’t mind.”

“Please.” Mack rolled her eyes. “I already work with him—why would I want to spend another second dealing with him if I don’t have to?”

Abbi laughed. “Is he driving you apeshit?”

“This renovation would be the perfect opportunity if I could get rid of him.”

And stop thinking about him all the time, a voice whispered in her head, and she felt a pang of—was that guilt?—for what she’d just said.

But she couldn’t let Abbi know there was anything going on. That way, there wouldn’t be anything to clean up once this ended.

And it would end, inevitably. What they’d done didn’t change who they were. She should have done more to secure Adam’s interest. He was cute and seemed perfectly nice. Maybe he’d open up more once they were past the awkwardness of introductions. Did it really matter whether he could dish it out? She was being picky. Difficult. She was letting her fucked-up whatever-it-was with Connor cloud her judgment.

“Connor’s always chasing the next good time,” Mack said. “He doesn’t care about the restaurant—he’ll be out of here before you know it.”

Abbi looked over in surprise. “He’s leaving?”

“I mean, he hasn’t said anything definite. But it’s clear this is just the next rung in the ladder for him. You know how he is, always running around.”

She knew she shouldn’t be saying this. It was private information that came out in a meeting, and it wasn’t like he’d said it outright. But the idea was clear. And she needed the reminder. Who else could she talk to about it? Adam? The thought alone was enough to make her laugh.

“I know running around isn’t your style,” Abbi said. “You’re all strings, Mack, and I love you for it. Being friends with you means something, because you don’t just jump to whatever’s next. But you meet a guy like Adam and it’s like you’re planning ten moves ahead, wondering whether you’ll want to come home to him years from now. Why not go out with him once and see how it goes?”

“Because sometimes you already know.”

“It’s life, Mack. It’s okay to make a mess every once in a while.”

Mack turned on the high beams as the car twisted up the road to Gold Mountain. The lights caught the fringes of the hemlocks and the ghostly surprise of the wildflowers with their buds tight and trembling in sleep. To Mack, the flowers that came up each spring by the side of the road were even more beautiful than the ones that grew on the trails. Those were the ones that weren’t supposed to be there, the ones that didn’t have a home. And yet they kept right on clinging.

But Mack did have a home, a place she’d come to call her own, with its cushions and books, pictures and pillows, all the pieces she’d put together so carefully. Life was too fragile for messes, she wanted to say. The wrong slipup and it all came crashing down.

She remembered her mother, somewhat. Images of a soft hand brushing her hair, although it was hard to confirm that was really her mother and not someone else whose tenderness was superimposed. Or, more likely, a wish and not a memory at all.

She didn’t remember the man who was supposed to have been her father. But there was one after that. And another one, again and again. She didn’t remember the men, but she remembered them leaving. There would be less money, less food, more of those little plastic baggies with the red tops and the off-colored crystals inside. The people may have come and gone, but not the messes they left behind. Those had a way of sticking around what damn near felt like forever.

“I’m surprised you think Connor might be moving. I thought he’d kind of settled here,” Abbi said, and Mack realized she’d missed whatever Abbi had been saying. “I never get the impression he wants to be anywhere else.”

Mack looked over at her. “Yeah,” Abbi said. “I guess I know the answer to that.”

“Once a dog,” Mack said.

Abbi laughed. “You don’t magically start learning to purr.”

“He’s never going to change.”

“Not even if he sticks with the restaurant? Not even if he finds someone he wants to be with long-term?”

Mack snorted. “Connor doesn’t do anything long-term. I’m not even sure he’s capable of love.”

“Ouch,” Abbi said, and Mack almost told her she didn’t mean it, it wasn’t true, he wasn’t that bad. And she wasn’t that cruel.

But she was weak, afraid, and she kept up the charade. When Abbi said, “So he keeps running around. If you’re so sure you don’t like him, then why should you care?” Mack looked her friend right in the eye and said, “I don’t.”

She hated herself for it. But Abbi was right—people didn’t change. It was true for her, too. She’d grown up way faster than any kid ever should, but once she’d taken control over her life, she wasn’t about to hand the reins to someone else. Not Connor. Not Cute Adam. Not anyone.

Especially not anyone who wouldn’t be careful with her heart.

If she and Connor couldn’t be trusted to keep their clothes on and their brains in check, she’d just have to stay out of his way. It was like building a flossing habit: make yourself do it enough times in a row, and over time it becomes second nature. Or so she’d been told.

Except she’d seen up close how impossible it was to kick an addiction. She’d spent her supposed night away still thinking about him.

And clearly he was still thinking about her, because after she dropped Abbi off, she saw she had four new messages from him.

I’m going to assume you’re driving and not that you despise me more than usual.

Tell me when you’re back and I’ll come over with cake.

I’m telling you, this cake is worth it.

And then, the last one:

I may be lying about the cake. It’s good, but I really just want to see you.

She drove up to the next block to park so Abbi wouldn’t look out her window and see Mack still sitting there on her phone. Her heart was beating quickly. She wished she had a crystal ball, a time machine, some way to go into the future and look back at this moment to help her decide what to do.

She could ignore Connor’s texts. But that risked him coming over anyway, and Claire or Abbi or someone driving by and seeing his car there early in the morning, when Mack should be fast asleep. Alone.

She could text him back that in no uncertain terms was she going to see him tonight. If she made it clear, really clear—no joking, no flirting, no bullshit—she knew that would be it. One important step toward putting this behind them and making sure it never happened again.

Or the third option. She could text back.

She held the phone in her hand, playing each scenario out in her mind. She was a planner. She liked things to work. But this thing, whatever they were doing, didn’t take well to being controlled.

Make a mess, Abbi had said. But Mack was afraid she already had.