Valentine’s Day.
Mackenzie had once loved the holiday. The hearts, the flowers, the chocolates, the promises. The pinks and purples, the lace and the satin. All so beautiful. Magical.
But with a wanna-be-awesome-but-really-rocky-and-potentially-headed-for-ruin marriage, the hearts and flowers decorating the halls of the nursing home tugged at the dying romantic in her heart and strangled the once-hopeful optimist out of her once and for all.
She glanced again at the text Gabe had sent her, asking if she could get out of work early. He didn’t say why, but he did put a little heart emoticon at the end of his text. She started to respond but got pulled into a Mr. Clark episode. He wouldn’t calm down for anyone, so Betty begrudgingly asked her to work her magic on the man.
Mr. Clark’s face softened as soon as she entered the room. His face lightened from brick-red-anger to soft-pink-irritation.
“There you are!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “I told them you were the only one who could put my slippers on without pinching my damn toes, but they wouldn’t listen. Why won’t they ever listen?”
He cast a glare at Betty and Kim, who stood behind Mackenzie with their arms crossed over their chests, clearly agitated at Mr. Clark’s difficulties.
“Well you know that I can’t be here every moment. I have other residents to help, too, and these ladies will be more than happy to listen to you if you are polite and well-mannered. No one likes to be yelled at.”
She bent in front of him and lifted one of his feet, slipping it into the slipper with care.
“You’re my wife. You should be taking care of me.”
She smiled up at him, hoping the sympathy she felt showed in her face.
“No, Mr. Clark. I’m your friend. And a staff member. But these ladies behind me, the ones you’ve been treating so meanly, are the professionals.”
“I don’t need professionals. I need my wife.”
And that was the crux of it. Mr. Clark was lost to an emotional riptide that Mackenzie was also caught up in.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” she whispered conspiratorially, glancing over her shoulder before leaning closer to Mr. Clark. She rested her hands on his wobbly knees. “I’ll stay and watch one of your wife’s favorite old musicals with you. I’ll go get your favorite chair set up in the TV room while you politely take your meds. Deal?”
He tightened his lips and growled. Mr. Clark did share some traits with her own sometimes-cantankerous husband after all.
“Fine. And you’ll make popcorn?”
She laughed. “Yes. Air popped, no butter. A tiny dash of salt.”
“Fine. Off with you now. I have to take my meds.” His tone was mocking and severe, and when he made a face worthy of a problematic teen crossed with a chastising father, Mackenzie couldn’t contain her laughter.
“I’ll meet you down the hall in fifteen minutes.”
Betty glared at Mackenzie as they passed one another. Mackenzie shrugged. What did she want from her? She got the man to agree to take his meds without a fuss, and if they wanted her to punch out so she wasn’t on the clock during the movie, that was fine.
She reached into her pocket to grab her phone, needing to tell Gabe that she’d be home a little later than she had thought. He hadn’t mentioned anything about Valentine’s Day, which was unlike him. Back in the day, he would plan a hugely romantic adventure. She couldn’t blame him for not wanting to go through the effort when they were in such a precarious place, but she had to admit that she’d rather be at work than awkwardly wondering what she should do with her husband at home.
This was a disaster.
As she unlocked her phone, she bumped into Antoine, knocking her phone to the floor.
“I’m so sorry!”
She bent to pick up the pieces, hoping the phone would work in spite of the battery detaching.
“I heard a rumor you were staying on for a movie night.”
“Had to make a deal with Mr. Clark.” She blew hair out of her eyes and looked up at her boss. “Is that okay?”
“More than okay. I’ll go make the popcorn.”
“That’s okay—you have other things to do. And Mr. Clark is very particular about his popcorn.”
Antoine laughed and reached out to brush something off her shoulder. She stiffened at the unexpected contact.
Her stomach flipped over in a way that made her think she might vomit.
“I’ve got to hurry. If his chair isn’t ready with the afghan folded the right way, we’ll have another meltdown on our hands.”
Antoine didn’t move out of the way.
“Thank you for your commitment to our residents.”
She felt heat rise in her cheeks. “No problem. It’s my job.”
He looked like he was going to say something, but Mackenzie smiled an awkward-as-hell fake smile as she excused herself and slipped past him, accidentally brushing his arm with her shoulder.
She felt him watch her walk down the hall, so she walked faster.
Later, when Mr. Clark was settled in his chair and the movie was more than halfway over, Antoine surprised Mackenzie by coming in and sitting in the chair next to hers.
She sat up a little straighter and tried to ignore the strangeness of having him there.
He reached over and grabbed popcorn from her bowl.
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the attractive way his eyebrows framed his intense eyes. Admired the sharp angles of his handsome face. He’d make some woman happy someday.
But she hoped he had received the hint that she wasn’t interested in anything but a working relationship with him.
They sat in uncomfortable silence until the conclusion of the movie, when Mr. Clark cleared his throat and asked for water. Mackenzie squeezed a lemon in the water for him and brought it with a smile, ignoring the way Antoine watched her care for Mr. Clark.
“You’re a good girl,” Mr. Clark complimented as he sipped the water. “You must be a very good mother.”
She died inside, but she smiled and shook her head.
“Nope. Not a mom.”
She appreciated Mr. Clark’s moments of clarity, but for once she wished he thought she was his wife. At least then he would be more wrapped up in his past than in her present.
“Why not? You women these days wait too long and then wonder why you can’t have kids.”
Heat crept up the back of her neck as she desperately searched for an appropriate and impersonal response.
Antoine spoke up before she managed to speak.
“Not everyone wants to have kids, Henry.”
Mr. Clark grimaced and picked around the remaining kernels on the bottom of his bowl, searching for more popcorn.
“You made too many kernels this time.”
“Here, have some of mine.” She refilled his bowl from hers, then sat at the edge of her seat.
“Are you saying you don’t want kids?” Mr. Clark pointed his gnarly finger at Antoine as if accusing him of a great crime.
Antoine leaned back in his chair and crossed his leg over his knee.
“Can’t say I’ve ever cared about having them.”
Mackenzie perked up, wanting to hear this strange perspective.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Antoine leaned forward, long legs spread apart and a gleam in his eye. “If I fell in love with a woman who wanted them, I’d be game. But it’s never been a desire of mine.”
Mackenzie forced a breath into her lungs. Why couldn’t Gabe feel this way? Why did kids have to mean so much to the man who was most perfect for her? The man she loved more than her own heartbeat. The man she wanted to live the fairytale life with.
Unable to stand the pointed way Antoine studied her along with the intense feelings induced by the prospect of a childless life or a life without Gabe, she excused herself and rushed out of the recreation room.
She slipped into the first floor restroom and stared at herself in the mirror.
Who had she become? Who was she becoming? And how the hell could she turn back time and change everything?
Knowing she had already made a scene by leaving so abruptly, she splashed water on her face and forced herself to return. She’d put Mr. Clark to bed and then go home. To her husband. The man she loved.
Leaving the bathroom, she gasped when she looked up to see Antoine waiting for her.
“Come with me a moment.”
He took her by the arm and led her into his office, closing the door behind her.
The popcorn she had consumed in place of a proper dinner began to rise in her throat. What did he want? Last time she had been in his office, he had asked her out. She had hoped he had picked up on her signals, but he was standing too close for what would be deemed appropriate.
Her mouth went dry and her toes tingled. She needed to get out of there. She liked this job. She liked Antoine. But not the way he seemed to want her to like him.
“Are you okay? You rushed out of there as if a horde of angry bees were on your tail. Was it something I said?”
She shook her head, pressing her cold hands to her hot cheeks in an effort to calm the blushing. This was so wrong. So terribly wrong. She couldn’t have this conversation with him. She couldn’t have any conversation with him that didn’t directly involve work.
“I think I’m coming down with something. I should head home.”
She turned toward the door, but his hand covered hers over the knob.
Her heart pounded in her ears as she struggled for something to say.
His breath against the side of her face had her recoiling. Personal space. She needed it.
She turned to tell him that, and just as she did, he gripped the sides of her face and swooped in for a kiss.
His lips were soft and he delivered the kiss of a man with a crush, not a predator.
Though his touch was warm and not unpleasant, it was wrong.
Every inch of her face crawled as if a toxic substance had been dumped on her skin.
She squeezed her eyes tight and kept her lips firm. She placed her hands on his chest—surprised at the muscle she found there—and gently shoved. She didn’t want to hurt him or anything—she just wanted him to stop.
And for things to go back to normal.
He raised his head and looked at her face, lowering his hands to her upper arms, but she couldn’t look at him. She was too ashamed at what signals she must have been sending for him to get the idea that she wanted to be kissed.
“Too soon?”
His voice was husky with desire but light with good humor, as if her rejection hadn’t hurt or offended.
She nodded, biting the inside of her mouth.
“I’m married, Antoine.”
“Happily?” he asked, not letting go of the hold he had on her arms. His touch was light and pleasant, almost too comforting for the situation.
Why didn’t she answer? What the hell was wrong with her?
He reached for her hand and inspected pointedly.
“You don’t wear a ring.”
She snapped her hand away from him and backed up. She fiddled with the spot her rings used to occupy. She had left them behind when she had left Gabe. He hadn’t offered them back to her.
Why hadn’t he offered them back to her?
“Listen, Mackenzie. If you’re happy in your marriage, please accept my apologies for my behavior. I should have waited until you returned my affections.” He paused. “But if you think it through and decide that you are not happy in your marriage, I’ll be waiting.”
He cleared his throat and closed his eyes. She knew the look—he was fighting to control his physical response to their kiss. Or his attraction. Or whatever. She refused to look at his pants to see if he had an erection. His erection was his own problem.
But he couldn’t leave this office thinking that there was a chance. He was a nice guy and she didn’t want to string him along.
“I love my husband,” she finally managed.
Antoine was halfway out the door, but he paused. When he turned toward her, his look was pensive.
He stared at her for a long time. Too long. She felt herself begin to sweat under her armpits and on her palms. Why was he staring like he was trying to solve the mysteries of the pyramids?
She straightened her shoulders and tried to look confident—a trait she never seemed to come by naturally.
Her lips quivered, so she tightened them. Her arms began to shake, so she folded them across her chest. Her legs began to tremble, so she leaned against the desk.
He continued to stare as she grew uncomfortable remembering the hot sex she had had with her husband on his desk at the print shop.
She cursed herself. If Antoine could read minds, he might think she was imagining him on the desk with her.
But she wasn’t.
She bolted to her feet.
Desks were dangerous.
And the only one she wanted to be dangerous with was Gabe.
She excused herself and tried to get past Antoine. He grabbed her elbow and leaned in to whisper in her ear.
“You say you love your husband.”
She nodded so vehemently that she made herself dizzy.
“But does he love you back?”