The Mostly Real McCoy: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (Apple Valley Love Stories Book 1)

by Julie Christianson

  Stumbling across the yard, I head down the grassy slope until I reach the water’s edge. Under a patch of mossy trees, I bend over, gasping. The earth beneath me is rocky and damp. A bird squawks overhead. To the right of me, the creek is gurgling, while my heart’s breaking in two.

  If the water were deeper, I’d jump in and swim away. Away from the humiliation. The deception. Too bad there’s not enough water in the world to absorb my sadness.

  “Brooke!” Mac calls out.

  I straighten but I can’t look at him—this man I believed was my future. What a joke. I have no idea who he is. Some stranger with a garage full of cradles and a last name I didn’t even know.

  I should never have let myself hope.

  You shouldn’t have fallen in love.

  When Mac is just a few feet away from me, he stops. I let out a shuddering breath and meet his gaze. “I’m sorry,” he says. “So sorry.”

  His eyes are trained on me, but I stay silent. Frozen. I’m a statue made of icy stone.

  “I can explain,” he says.

  “There’s nothing to explain,” I say on an exhale. “You lied to me. This whole time.”

  “I was telling the truth. Mostly.”

  “Ah. You were mostly honest. Gee. That’s comforting.” I sound sharp because I’m feeling sharp. My insides are crawling up out of me.

  His back goes rigid. “You told me you didn’t like McCoy Construction. Or kids.”

  “So this is my fault? Good to know.”

  “I’m not saying it’s your fault. I’m saying I was scared to let you know who I was at first. For Daisy’s sake and for mine. We’d both been pretty badly burned, Brooke.”

  I nod. “You didn’t trust me.”

  “I didn’t trust myself,” he says. “And our deal was supposed to be temporary, so I didn’t think it mattered.” He pauses and his eyes go soft. “Until I started hoping things between us could be … not-temporary.”

  My heart is a hot coal in my chest. I don’t want to think about how close I came to wanting something permanent with Mac. “So why didn’t you tell me then?”

  “Because we got busy with wedding plans and puppet shows. Because I wanted to help you with your parents. Because I wasn’t sure how you felt about me yet.” He glances down at the fake ring I’ve been twisting on my finger. “Maybe it sounds stupid, but I was hoping we’d reach the point where you’d want to be with me more than you’d want to be mad at me.”

  I lift my chin and meet his gaze. “You know what, Mac? I’m not mad.”

  “Really?” He gulps. “You’re not?”

  I flash the ring at him. “I’ve been lying to my parents from the moment they got here, so I’d be a pretty big hypocrite if I suddenly drew some line in the sand about total honesty.”

  He takes a step toward me. “I swear I’ll be totally honest with you for the rest of our lives if you’ll let me. Starting now.” His eyes flash. Not with anger, but with so much tenderness, I’m practically scorched. “I want us to be together. Brooke. We could be your family. Daisy and I.”

  “Stop.” I’m coming out of my skin now, and all my insides are unraveling. Because I want Mac so much, and Daisy already feels like my own daughter. Like I’ve adopted her already. I’d let myself picture being a part of Mac’s family. With Tess as a sister. Plus Darby and Olivia. I’d studied their pictures and couldn’t wait to meet them. Plus Mac’s mother and Big Mama. The whole, happy Bradford family.

  I felt it in my bones.

  The Bradfords.

  And none of it was real.

  “By the way, I saw all your cradles, Mac. In the garage. Behind the tarps.”

  He scrubs both hands over his face. “Oh.”

  “You’ve got quite a collection. And they’re all so beautiful. Like works of art. Like your dream come true. A whole bunch of babies.” A breeze blows over us and my skin ripples with goosebumps.

  He nods. “You’re not wrong about those cradles being a part of my dream,” he says, “but not in the way you think.” He squints, like he’s calling up the past. “I always loved woodworking, and after building all the furniture for Daisy’s nursery, I started to think maybe I’d design custom cradles. But after Gwen left, and my dad died, everything changed. I didn’t have time for dreams. So I threw those tarps up to block off that part of the garage. That part of my life. And I never looked back. That’s the truth.”

  “The truth.” I choke the lump clogging in my throat.

  “I don’t know all the details, but I think you’re worried that having kids with me will be hard. But none of that changes what I told you yesterday, Brooke. You’re enough for me. More than enough. And for Daisy. She loves you so much.”

  She loves you.

  My stomach plummets. He’s proving my point. “I know you’d do anything for your daughter. So. What if you’ve convinced yourself you want me just because you think she does?”

  Mac gulps. “You’re right. I’d do anything for Daisy. I’d say anything.” His voice catches. “But that doesn’t change how I feel. My future is with you. Our future. We can figure it out together.” He reaches for my hands. “I can give you whatever future you want.”

  “Right.” I pull my hands away. “Because you’re Mac McCoy.”

  “Yes.”

  Heat floods my throat, neck, and chest, and all these emotions explode out of me. “You used your money to trap me. You paid me to be with you. Just like my parents paid off Ethan.”

  “No.” His eyes flash. “That’s not who I am, Brooke. You must know that by now.” He straightens his shoulders, standing tall, and all I want is to be wrapped up in his arms. But I can’t. I don’t trust him. How could I?

  “I don’t even know you.” My voice breaks. “I knew Mac Bradford.”

  “Well, I’m him. He is me.” Mac spreads his hands wide. “And we are not giving up on you.”

  “You don't have to.” I lower my gaze. “Because I already gave up.”

  Slipping off the ring, I stare down at the symbol of everything I thought I might finally have. An imitation. This cheap piece of glass. Just a lie. A heartbreaking lie.

  I raise my hand to throw the ring into the creek.

  “Don’t!” Mac blocks my arm, and I hate that his touch still ignites me.

  My eyes begin to sting. “Why? The last thing I need is another reminder of how incredibly stupid I’ve been.”

  Mac reaches out and turns me toward him. He’s so careful with me, so gentle I just want to break into a million little pieces. “The ring is real, Brooke.”

  I suck in a breath.

  “It’s a diamond,” he says. “The band is platinum.” His eyes bore into mine, and my entire body goes numb “When I gave you this ring in your apartment, and got down on one knee and proposed …”

  “No,” I blurt out.

  “Actually … I remember you saying yes.”

  The memory pulls the breath from my body. “I didn’t know the question meant anything. I thought we were pretending.”

  Mad nods. “That’s pretty much what I’ve been doing my whole life. Until I met you. Everything before that was just practice. But this is real now.”

  These words are all so much to process—no, it’s too much. My brain and heart and soul kick into overdrive. And I just need to walk away.

  From this.

  From hope.

  From him.

  Mac slides his hand down my arm, until his fingers lace with mine. “Did you hear me, Brooke? This is real now. We are real.”

  I untangle our fingers and press the ring into his hand. The palm is warm. And rough. And everything I want.

  “But real isn’t enough.”

  As I trudge back toward the house, I don’t know if Mac is following me, but I do know I’m being watched. Five faces of varying heights are pressed against the window. Five faces that disappear as soon as they see me coming.

  By the time I slip into the kitchen, they’re all seated around the table. Mom and
Dad. Tess and Emi. They’re trying so hard to look innocent, they might as well be whistling.

  Everyone except Daisy.

  She hops over to me with her basketball. “Do you want to play with me, Queen Book?”

  I bend down to her height. “That’s a really nice ball, Princess. But guess what? You don’t have to pretend we’re the king and queen anymore.”

  “But MeeMaw and PeePaw haven’t left yet.”

  “Yep. About that.” I straighten and cut my focus to my parents. “Mom. Dad.” I gulp. “I should probably tell you … Mac and I … we aren’t really married.”

  My mother gasps. Hand to her throat again. She and my dad cast looks at each other, then they both shift their focus to me.

  “I don’t understand,” my father says.

  “I told you we’d eloped because I was hoping that if you thought I was settled up here, you’d stop begging me to move back to LA. And stop forcing Ethan on me.”

  “So Las Vegas didn’t happen?” My mother bends her neck.

  “All an act. We lied to you. I lied. And I’m so sorry.”

  Tess clears her throat. “It wasn’t all fake, Brooke. Maybe Mac is too dumb to tell you, but the ring—”

  “He told me.”

  Emi scoots back in her chair. “What about the ring?”

  “Apparently it’s real,” I say. “But it doesn’t matter. I gave it back to him.”

  Tess’s face falls. “Why?”

  Emi rolls her eyes. “Maybe because he isn’t who she thought he was.”

  Tess frowns. “But she knows who he is on the inside.” She turns to me. “Mac loves you, Brooke.”

  I gulp. “He loves Daisy. And the idea of me. That's all.”

  Tess shakes her head. “Nope. He’s head over heels for you. And I’m pretty sure you feel the same way. So who cares if my brother’s name is Mac Bradford or Mac McCoy? A rose still smells good if you call it something else, right?” She wrinkles her nose. “That’s not the exact quote. But whatever. I’m a history major. I never had to memorize Romeo and Juliet.”

  “It’s close enough, but I’m done with plays.” Sadness starts clawing at my throat, but I try to act stronger than I feel. “I do have a favor to ask you, though.”

  Tess tilts her head. “I’d be happy to kick Mac’s butt for not telling you the truth sooner. Then you can take the ring back, and we can all start over again. For the record, I’m sorry I went along with his stupid idea. But if you knew what a nightmare G-W-E-N was, you’d understand.”

  My eyes start watering, and Tess closes her mouth. “Fine,” she says. “What do you need?”

  “Your summer classes are over and you’re done studying for the LSAT, right?”

  She nods.

  “I … would you …” I want to ask Tess to take over watching Daisy for me, but the words stick in my throat. When tears start dribbling down my face, Daisy hops over.

  “Book!” She peers up at me and frowns. “Hmm. It’s okay. I’ll get you some Kleenex.”

  When she hops out of the room, I swipe at my face. I need to rip the rest of this band-aid off before she comes back.

  Before I start sobbing.

  Before I change my mind.

  “Mom? Dad?” I sniffle. “Will you take me home with you?”

  My parents both say, “Yes.”

  At the same time Tess yells, “No!”

  “Brooke,” Emi squeaks. “You can’t just quit like this!”

  I hold up a hand. “I’ll tell Mr. Dudley today’s my last shift. He never liked me, anyway. I’m sure the man will be thrilled.”

  Emi’s face crumbles. “That’s not the kind of quitting I’m talking about.”

  I draw in a breath. “I can’t stay here, Em. Not with Mac and Daisy so close. It will be … too hard.”

  Emi comes over and wraps her arms around me. “But I’m going to miss you so, so much.”

  “Me too.” I sniff. “But we can visit each other all the time. Two single girls, taking on the world, right?”

  “No.” Tess shakes her head. “Brooke. Please. You can’t just leave Daisy. Not now. Not when she’s finally herself again.”

  “I promise I’ll FaceTime with her,” I say. “Every single day if she wants me to.” My eyes are desperate. Pleading with Tess. “You’ll help me do that, won’t you? You’ll look after Daisy when I’m gone?”

  Tess sighs. “Everyone leaves her.”

  “I’m so sorry.” The ache in my heart steals my breath. I feel scooped out. Beyond empty. “Take care of them for me.” My voice hitches. “Both of them.”

  38

  Brooke

  I pull up to my apartment building and park under a maple tree. It’s been less than a month since I met Mac and Daisy. Since he rented me this car. Since I fell in love with him.

  It’s been less than an hour since I discovered Mac’s cradles. Since I found out his real name. Since I gave him his ring back.

  The minute I left his house, everything started moving in slow motion for me. Now I feel like I’m underwater. The world’s muffled and blurry. I can barely hear myself think.

  At least I was able to slip out before Mac came inside. Before Daisy got back with a box of Kleenex. Before I completely fell apart.

  Emi offered to get my things together and bring a change of clothes to the library. I don’t want to work my last shift dressed in a Snow White costume.

  I asked Tess to tell Mac I’d return the RAV in the morning. Since I won’t be driving around Apple Valley anymore, I’ll let Spencer know Franklin can keep the Relica.

  My dad already ordered a car that’s picking him and my mother up soon. They’re letting me stay at their hotel tonight, then I’ll fly home to LA tomorrow.

  Alone. Again.

  I’m only stopping by my apartment now to pick up something I’d left behind. Something I wasn’t sure I even wanted anymore.

  My own baby book.

  I’d left it on the coffee table yesterday when I thought I might leave the old Brooke behind too. But I’m stuck with her now. Stuck in the shadow of my past. So I might as well embrace it.

  I take a few deep breaths and one final tour of the apartment. I sure won’t miss that mustard colored couch. But the new beginning I thought I might be establishing here?

  That I’m going to miss a lot.

  Thinking about how close I came to real happiness in Apple Valley makes my insides burn, and a shuddering sigh slices through me. I close my eyes to soak up the silence. One last time.

  Goodbye, little apartment.

  Then I slip out the door and lock it behind me.

  Goodbye, almost-new Brooke.

  I rest my forehead against the door, preparing to walk away from this life forever. But when I turn around, Mrs. Sprat is standing there. She’s between me and the stairs.

  I forgot the Sprats. Oh, no.

  Who else will I be running out on?

  Mrs. Sprat is wearing a bright orange track suit. When she grins, I see she’s put in her teeth. Hopefully she and Mr. Sprat won’t be too lonely after I’m gone. I could leave the next tenant a note:

  Dear Newbie,

  The couple in the apartment next door, Mr. and Mrs. Sprat, are the sweetest people ever. She bakes a mean apple pie, although I can’t vouch for her homemade tomato sauce. They like supersized French fries from McDonald’s. Their cat, Galileo, prefers Filet-O-Fish. Be kind to them. And to yourself. Whoever you are.

  Sincerely,

  The Neighbor Who Bailed

  “How did things work out with your refrigerator, dear?” Mrs. Sprat is peering up at me. “I can’t stop worrying that I need to clean behind my refrigerator too. I sure hope that handsome young man of yours can help me move mine soon.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Sprat.” I clutch the baby book to my chest. “I don’t think Mac will be back.”

  She waves a hand. “Oh, that’s no bother. I’m a patient woman. He doesn’t have to do it today, dear.”

  “No.” I fe
el my pulse in my throat. “I mean I don’t think Mac will be back … ever.”

  And I won’t be either, but I can’t say those words out loud to you now. I’ll send you a telegram or something later.

  “Oh, no.” She clucks. “That is too bad, dear. I must say, I’m surprised. The boy sure is smitten with you. He looks at you the exact same way Mr. Sprat used to look at me. With a spring in his step and stars in his eyes, as if I hung the very moon.” She sighs and reaches for her locket, sliding a knobby hand along the chain. “That smile on Larry’s face. I’d give anything to see it one more time.”

  The hairs stiffen on the back of my neck.

  What is she talking about?

  Mrs. Sprat opens the locket and lifts the tiny picture up for me to see. “This is all I have left of him now. This and my memories. I still talk to Larry every day, of course. He doesn’t need to answer. I know what he’d tell me.” Suddenly I flash back to everything Mrs. Sprat’s ever said about her husband. The things Larry thought. Believed. Did. They were all from the past.

  How did I not figure this out before?

  “Mrs. Sprat,” I choke. “I’m so sorry.” The loss is a flood in my throat.

  “Don’t be.” Her eyes skim my face now, slow and wistful. Like she’s not seeing me at all. “The two of us got a pretty good love story,” she says. “We shared a wonderful life together. Mostly joyful. Although a few sorrows did crop up. No one gets to the other side without a few dark times. But I wouldn’t trade a single day of the goodness to avoid a little pain. And I still carry him with me now, don’t I?” She flips the locket closed. “Larry and I decided a long time before he left me that we’d never really say goodbye to each other.”

  “And you won’t.” My voice trembles. “You don’t have to.”

  She tucks the locket back under her collar. “My Larry was a year younger than me, you know. I didn’t find out until we went to get our marriage license.” She shakes her head. “Oh, I was fit to be tied. But he said he was afraid I wouldn’t let him court me if I knew the truth.” A small smile tugs at her lips. “And that I was too pretty to let slip through his fingers.”