Mac rested on an elbow. Kate pulled the sheet tightly around her, covering her naked body. He knew it was a clear sign of “stay away or I’ll claw your eyes out.” She wasn’t prone to violence, but she was pissed. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d ever seen her so mad.
Kate flung her legs over the bed, got up, and yanked her robe around her.
“Katie, I’m…”
“Don’t even try to sugarcoat this, Mac.” Kate walked into the bathroom and slammed the door.
Mac fell back onto the bed. Not a half an hour before she’d been beneath him, kissing him, and now she was in the bathroom—door closed, probably locked, and he was in bed alone. What the hell was he thinking? Of course she’d respond that way.
Mac got up and walked to the bathroom door, He tapped lightly.
“Katie,” his voice was soft, “I’m sorry, Baby. I really am. I’m an ass.“ Mac waited, then heard the shower. She was getting ready for work.
“Fuck,” he walked back to the bed, pulled on his shorts, and headed to the kitchen to make some coffee. He needed a cup or seven. It was barely five a.m., two a.m. in the west. The older he got, the harder the time difference was. As Mac made the coffee, he listened intently for another sound from the bathroom, some sign that she was about to come out so he could finish their talk. And he did plan to finish it. Just then, he heard the sound of the hairdryer kick on. He knew it took her less than fifteen minutes from that point. He needed to work on his delivery—that was for sure. How the hell did he expect she’d react after leaving her for months while he cared for Carolyn? Now he was taking her to Paris. If the situation had been reversed, he’d flip out, too.
The coffee was ready and Mac poured two cups. He walked both into the bedroom just in time to see her emerging from the bathroom. Her eyes met his and he knew she hadn’t lost an ounce of her anger. He held a cup out to her as a peace offering. She turned away from him, shrugged out of her robe, and yanked a blouse from a hanger so hard the hanger flew off the pole.
Mac took a deep breath. It was now or never. “Kate, I get it. I’d be pissed, too.”
Kate spun around. “Pissed doesn’t even begin to describe how I’m feeling.”
She’d tried to calm herself down in the shower, but the heat of the water only added to her anger, fueling it, stoking it. The longer the warm stream of water beat down on her, the more livid she got.
“I can’t win.” Kate’s arms flew up. “I have no recourse against ‘cancer wife.’ If I say, ‘Don’t go to Paris. Don’t take her to the best clinic in the world, and oh, stay a week to make sure she gets settled in,’ I look like an ass. If I say, ‘Go to Paris,’ I look like the biggest pushover that ever walked the streets of Manhattan. I can’t win. And you,” she pointed at him, “You put me in that position, Mac. How dare you do that to me. How freaking dare you.”
Mac took a deep breath.
Cancer wife.
She was right. She was in an impossible situation. Mac wasn’t sure if what he was about to say would make things worse, or help, but he forged ahead.
“Baby, listen, I come with a ton of baggage, a history no woman cares to talk about, and an ex-wife who, for most of the years we were married, didn’t even want to be in the same room with me.”
Kate pulled on a shirt and eyed him suspiciously. Mac continued.
“No woman should have to deal with my baggage, least of all the love of my life.” He paused, “Kate, you are the last woman I will ever love. I want us to start with a clean slate, if that’s even possible. I realized when I was with Carolyn that I carry a lot of guilt about what I did to her, to my boys, and, subsequently, to you. I realized that fixing this, to some degree, lifts this burden I’ve been carrying.”
Kate stepped into a skirt. She did not respond.
“Kate, before you and I marry, I need to clean up my past.”
She zipped up her skirt and stared at him. “And by ‘clean up,’ you mean go to Paris on the honeymoon you two never had?”
Of course she remembered that. Mac had told her. He’d told her everything. They had no secrets.
“It was where we were supposed to go on our honeymoon, yes, but this is different. This is for her health, and it’s an important final step for her and for our sons.”
Mac walked over to her and put a hand on each of her forearms. Kate tried to wiggle free, but he held tight.
“Kate, this is just a gesture, really. I mean, I’m taking her to Paris, yes, but it’s about her getting better so she can be around for our sons for many years. The truth is that they don’t need me the way they will always need her. So my going to Paris is for them as much as it is for her. Yes, Carolyn is dying, eventually. After the treatment she will be in remission, but no one knows for how long. This clinic could really help extend her life.”
“That makes no sense, Mac. You’re not taking your family to Paris to help us,” Kate’s voice shook.
Mac stroked her hair. He loved how it smelled when Kate was fresh from the shower. “Actually, I am. I mean, it’s for her, the boys, and for us. This whole thing—caring for her, being there for the boys—has been like coming full circle. For years I tortured myself over my bad choices, over my baggage. I mean, you said it yourself once that you often wonder when we’re at publishing events who there I’ve slept with.”
Kate turned her head away. Mac stroked her cheek with his hand and gently turned her face towards him.
“I can’t undo the past, Katie, but I can right a few wrongs before you and I say, ‘I do.’ I feel like, I don’t know, that somehow it changes things between us—that it somehow starts us on a different level or something.”
Kate shrugged and pulled out of his grasp. “Whatever, Mac. Go to Paris, whatever. Come full freaking circle. I don’t get it, but I can’t fight it. You will do what you want to do. That’s how it is with you. It’s Mac’s way or the highway.” Kate pulled on a suit jacket and walked out of the bedroom.
“Kate, you can’t leave. We need to finish this conversation.”
She turned to him and given the look in her eyes, he was surprised he didn’t immediately burst into flames.
“No, we don’t. You’ve made up your mind, clearly, so book your ticket and have fun in Paris. I have work to do.”
“Kate, don’t go. Please,” his voice was deep and pleading.
“Mac, for months I waited and I was patient. I even started seeing a therapist because of this mess.” She could see a shade of surprise slip over his face; she hadn’t told him about therapy. Kate ignored it and forged ahead, “Now you come home, we have sex, and you tell me you and the fam are going to Paris. You tell me it’s about your guilt and your past, I’m supposed to swallow that and just let you go, and now you want me to wait so you can tell me again how you need to wipe away the past so we can get married and have some fucking clean slate. Well, I got news for you. There’s no way a trip to Paris can wipe away all the crap you did over the years. You still fucked half of this city, and no trip to Paris will make that go away.” Kate was at the front door, which she pulled open with gusto and then slammed behind her, leaving Mac to stand in their living room, speechless.
. . . .
The minute the doors closed on the elevator, Kate knew she’d gone too far. Fight fair, that’s what an author had once told her. She forgot the book title, but it was about the perfect relationship. Number one, never have an affair. Okay, so she clearly should have paid more attention to that book. Mac seemed oddly insistent that he wanted to do this right with her, whatever that meant. It certainly hadn’t started off that way. The elevator hit the bottom floor. Kate stepped out and stood by the elevator bank, wondering what to do next. Another door slid open and Mac emerged, slightly breathless. He spotted her. Another set of doors opened and a handful of residents exited. Mac and Kate just looked at each other.
When the hallway was empty, Mac walked towards her.
“I’m so sorry,” his voice was almost a whisper.
&n
bsp; “I didn’t mean to leave like that,” Kate said and Mac reached for her hand.
“I want to understand,” she said, “But I am struggling to make sense of your reasoning here. And I’m sorry about the sleeping with half of Manhattan thing.”
He leaned into her.
“I’ve had that coming for a while, and it’s not entirely wrong.” He winked, bent down, and kissed her on the cheek.
“I don’t expect you to accept this easily, or at all for that matter,” he said, his voice soft and deep. “Kate, you are the last woman I will ever love.”
“Sometimes it’s hard being in this relationship with you. I mean, there’s just so much—”
“Baggage,” he finished her sentence for her and gave her a half smile. “I have enough to fill several airplanes, and you’re an amazing woman to even tolerate it. I want to honor you, Kate, in a way that I never honored Carolyn.”
Another set of doors slid open and more people walked out. Mac pulled her to the back of the hall where they’d have more privacy and continued.
“I thought I was honoring her by leaving her be—by sending her money so she could retain a certain lifestyle while I stayed in the city living my life. But that wasn’t honoring her at all. It was my own selfish way of making myself feel better.” Mac paused, and when Kate didn’t say anything he paused another beat and continued.
“Taking her to Paris is probably one of the craziest ideas I’ve ever had, if not the craziest, but I feel like I need to do this for the mother of my children—to show them that sometimes you need to do crazy things because you care, because you’re human, and because you only get one chance.”
Kate let go of a heavy sigh. “I still don’t really get it, but then I’ve never been married or dealt with the things you’ve had to deal with. I mean, I get why she has to go, but I don’t get why you have to go with her.”
She paused before continuing, “Truth be told, I’m jealous of her. She has a part of you I’ll never have. You have a history that I’ll never fully know about, and children…”
Mac sat next to her and took her hand. “We can have children. If that’s what you want, then it’s what I want.” He turned her hand over and kissed her palm.
Just then it struck Kate in an odd way. How that they had never really had this discussion? They had talked about kids, and Mac said he was fine with whatever she wanted. But they never discussed the number of children they would have or any details beyond, “I want what you want.”
Something inside her twisted. Had they really never talked about children in some more concrete way? How did she miss that? Wasn’t that something couples did? However, arguably, Mac had just entered his fifties; most men don’t want a screaming baby around at that age, so she reasoned that that’s why she’d never brought it up.
But she did want a child. She always had, even if the years were making it more unfriendly for her to do so.
Kate dismissed the children discussion. This wasn’t the time to throw another layer of complexity into this. She continued, “Mac, I love you. I don’t fully understand why you need to do this, but I feel like everything we have is starting to slip away.”
Mac tightened his grip on her arms. “Don’t say that. It’s not true. Look, let’s go upstairs and finish this discussion.” Before letting her respond, he hit the elevator button and the doors opened almost immediately. Mac held a hand on the frame and looked at Kate.
“Katie, please.”
She took a beat before she stepped inside, and when she did the look of relief on Mac’s face was unmistakable.
When the doors closed, he hit their floor button, turned, and grabbed her. Holding her, he said, “Don’t ever say that, please. Because this is a blip. This isn’t going to break us.”
“Sometimes I feel like it’s breaking me.” Her voice was muffled.
The doors slid open before Mac could answer.
“Come on,” he guided her inside.
When they were inside, Kate dropped her purse on the couch and sat down. Mac sat next to her, taking her hands.
“Katie, listen, this is just too much for you. I get it. I’m going to let Carolyn go alone. The boys can help her. It’ll be fine.”
Kate looked at Mac and blinked. Had he just given up Paris? The look on Mac’s face was stern and tired. He looked really tired. Why hadn’t she noticed that before? This whole thing was taking its toll on him, too. She reached up and touched his face. Yes, Mac was stumbling through this, too. There wasn’t a rulebook for something like this. Kate also realized that if he didn’t go, Mac would blame himself when Carolyn died, thinking that he could have or should have done more. And what if he blamed her, too?
Finally Kate said, “Mac, look, if you really think you need to go to Paris, then go. Go to Paris.”
“Kate, no, it’s fine. I’ll just let the boys go and—”
Kate gripped his hand. “Mac, no. It’ll be okay. Go to Paris.”
The words were out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying. Go to Paris. Not, ‘Let’s go to Paris.’ She was sending him on a trip with his sons and his ex-wife. Kate could feel her heart speed up and start pounding in her throat. What the hell had she done?
“Kate, are you sure?”
She nodded slowly, if not hesitantly. Now it was done; she’d given her consent. All that was left to do was keep nodding like some Stepford wife.
“I-I,” she thought about retracting what she’d said. She really needed more information. Didn’t she? I mean, he was going to Paris for God knows how long on a fun little family vacation.
“Kate?” Mac was still holding her hand.
Kate forgot how to breathe.
Why had she just given in? She thought she was coming back to smooth things over. Turns out she’d come back upstairs to be a doormat.
“I wish…” Kate’s voice trembled. Done was done. It was time to make the best of it. “I wish Carolyn wasn’t sick. I wish David and Dan didn’t have to know what this felt like—to lose a parent—and I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry that you have such a sketchy history with them.”
Mac nodded, “It’s my own fault.”
Kate took a deep breath and said, “We won’t always agree, Mac. There will be things like this that don’t seem to make sense at all. But we love each other, we support each other, and that’s all that matters. If you feel like you need to do this to fix something, and if you really believe in the long run this will help us, then I don’t need to fully understand why you’re doing it. I just need to support you.”
“I love you.” Mac’s breath was warm on her lips as he kissed her. “I want you to go too, Kate.”
Kate pulled away just enough to get some space and shook her head.
“I can’t go, Mac, even if I wanted to, which, candidly, I really don’t. We have a busy fall and this is a crucial time. Annabelle just isn’t ready to deal with this on her own yet.”
“It’s only for a week,” Mac said, as if not going for ten days or two weeks made the trip somehow more palatable.
Kate shrugged, “Get your ticket. Take her. Take your sons. Let them spoil her rotten in Paris. Let them make memories with her that will last the rest of their lives.”
Mac kissed her again, this time deeper and longer.
When he pulled back, she said, “It’s still early, but I’m dressed, so let’s go grab an early breakfast at Sarabeth’s.”
It was Mac’s favorite place for breakfast.
“And while you’re eating a plate full of waffles, I will bring you up to speed on what’s happening with our fall titles.”
“Kate, I’d love to, but first I want to ask you something. So, you’re in therapy?” he prodded.
She nodded. “Sort of,” she grinned. “She’s odd. Well, odd is being kind, actually. She’s off the charts crazy, but Andrew swears by her. But yes, I am, and it’s fine. I just needed to deal with stuff.” She shrugged, “Anyway, let’s talk about it over breakfast.”
&n
bsp; She kissed him quickly on the lips to change the subject. She wasn’t at all prepared to tell Mac about Ruth Ann and the therapist’s incessant need to learn about how her authors abuse her, her life as a constant spin cycle, and how Nick may still reside in a piece of her heart.
CHAPTER 55
Mac’s going to Paris. Kate sent the text.
Andrew responded, Paris is fabulous. I hope you’re going. You could use the break! You two will have a wonderful time. Did I ever tell you I’m not allowed in Paris after that little Eiffel Tower incident?
Andrew was referring to the time when he threatened to jump off of the Eiffel Tower when the starlet he was dating dumped him (back when he wasn’t admitting he was gay).
He’s taking his sons and his ex-wife, she added, ignoring his comment and realizing he’d misread the text.
His response was, That’s awkward.
Then her phone rang. Kate got up and closed the door of her office. She’d had a nice breakfast with Mac. they talked more about the trip, and Mac had asked her about her therapy. She did her best to skirt the question.
“Andrew, hi,” Kate said, her voice flat.
“He’s taking them to Paris?”
Kate told Andrew about her morning and the clinic and Mac’s idea that taking his ex-wife to Paris would somehow right all the wrongs of the past.
Andrew was silent for a moment. “I agree that this is a bit odd, but he’s a good bloke, Kate. He wouldn’t do this to hurt you, you know, and I’ve heard of that clinic. They are doing amazing things there.”
“I know.” Her voice was quiet. Why had she told Andrew? She realized it was to get him to weigh in on this. Was she crazy to let Mac go? Did she trust him?
Despite his past, she did trust him completely. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was this sudden need to be the good husband he’d never been when he was married to Carolyn, and the fact that he was doing it on her watch was even more bothersome.
“I think,” Andrew began pensively, “that we can’t presume to understand what he went through in his marriage. But I do know that when I finally came out, I felt like I needed to make it right with my ex. It wasn’t out of love for her at all. It was because I felt like I knew while we were married that I was gay, and I married her to prove I wasn’t. I’d wasted part of her life and wanted to atone for it.”
Climax: The Publicist, Book Three Page 21