by Annie Stone
And it feels good.
It’s weird, because I don’t know any girl who would do this kind of shit, not even Ava, and she’s definitely the coolest girl I know. Girls always try to be all perfect in front of guys, but Mac doesn’t care. She knows she can’t sing, but she does it anyway.
We stop at a drive-thru and order huge ice cream cones, which we proceed to wolf down in the parking lot. On the way back, we sing along to “Everlong” by the Foo Fighters, “Kryptonite” by 3 Doors Down, and “Last Resort” by Papa Roach. But when she starts on “I Will Always Love You” by Whitney Houston, Carey and I both start booing.
When we get back to the house, we’re definitely in better spirits than when we left. And, strange as it is, it’s thanks to Mac. As we climb out of the car, Dad comes outside.
“Where were you?” he calls. “Why didn’t any of you pick up your phones? I was worried about you all!”
He hugs me, pats me on the shoulder, and then walks over to Mac—but she signs at him to go to Carey first. Dad does and pulls Carey into his arms. Slowly, we make our way back inside. Mom’s no longer there, and Mac and I simultaneously breathe a sigh of relief. I raise an eyebrow, and she does, too.
“Where were you?” Dad asks again as he comes in with Carey and shuts the door behind them.
“The rage mountain,” Mac says easily.
He gives her a questioning look.
“It helps process emotions to scream out your rage.”
Dad nods slowly, though he still looks confused. “Did it help?” he asks.
Carey, Mac, and I all nod.
Dad runs his free hand through his hair. “Okay, well, I want to apologize to you. I shouldn’t have let your mom say those terrible things. I was so shocked, I…I know you two kept telling me how your mom had changed, but it was the first time I actually saw it. She’s not the woman I knew anymore. I’m so sorry I didn’t protect you. That’s my job, and I failed miserably.” He looks down at Carey, who nods. “I love you two very much. You’re the most important people in my life. I want you to be healthy and happy, and want for nothing. If I’d known what your mom has become, I would never have let you go to Miami in the first place.”
I nod, trying to reassure him. When Mom freaked out in front of me for the first time, I was shocked, too. Hell, even earlier today I was paralyzed. So I understand how shocked he must have been. I wish it would have been different, but I understand. “It’s okay, Dad,” I say. “We wanted to go live with her at the time.”
He looks at Mac. “Thank you for standing up for my boys.”
She waves it off like it was no big thing. But it is. Especially after how we’ve treated her. Thank God Mom hits like a girl. If Mac had a black eye or something, it would make me feel even worse.
“I need a shower,” she says awkwardly and turns to run up the stairs like she’s uncomfortable to be the center of attention. Dad stops her and kisses her forehead before she can escape. And I can see so much love in his eyes I feel like an even bigger asshole. He lets her go upstairs then, and he turns back to face us. His sons.
For a while, we all stand there not knowing what to do. Dad’s always let us know how important we are to him, but he’s never articulated it like this before. Neither Carey nor I know how to act after this emotional outbreak.
“Are you doing anything tonight, or are you staying in?” Dad finally asks.
I look at Carey. “I think we’re staying in tonight.”
He smiles happily. “Pizza and baseball?”
Carey smiles. “Sounds good.”
Dad runs his hand through Carey’s blond hair. “I’m glad to hear it.” Without waiting, he picks up the phone and orders two large pizzas. One pepperoni and one half pepper, half mushrooms. Since none of us eat mushrooms, I guess that’s for Mac. I go to the kitchen for four glasses and the Coke, and we sit down on the couch to watch the pre-game report before the Dodgers game. Even though the Padres are our home team, we prefer the Yankees or the Red Sox—or the Dodgers. But none of us are into baseball the way we’re into football. Football is sacred. Still, it’s something to do with Dad tonight, and that’s what we need right now.
When the pizza arrives, we hear steps coming down the stairs. Mac’s wearing yoga pants and a baggy sweater, and I can see she’s unsure whether today’s events have changed anything or not. My eyes scan her body. I still think she’s hot, but I can feel something’s changed inside me. While I’m still suspicious that she has some kind of motivation for going out with an older guy, today she showed us she’s a human being made of flesh and blood. And that she stands up for those who can’t stand up for themselves. She has a big heart. Maybe the Mother Teresa comparison wasn’t too far off after all.
“I ordered pizza for you,” Dad says. “Mushroom.”
She smiles shyly and sits in the open spot next to Carey on the couch. I know it’s our fault she’s so timid around us, and I don’t like it. I feel bad about it.
Carey hands her a glass of Coke. “Or do you want something else?” he asks.
She shakes her head. “No. Coke is great.”
He nods and returns his gaze to the game. We eat pizza, swear when the Dodgers strand men on base, and cheer when they get a home run—which doesn’t happen as often as you’d think.
Mac doesn’t say much, and I don’t blame her, but the atmosphere is nowhere near as tense as it has been the past few days. It’s nice. Comfy even. In fact, it kind of feels like home.
9
Mackenzie
I was going to talk to Carter about his sons’ behavior. I really was. But after today, I don’t really feel the need. I can’t imagine them going back to their old ways after this. So much has happened in such a short time.
But I still need to talk to Carter. I need to know what he intends to do about his ex, how he’s going to protect his sons from that nutcase. Of course, I’m not going to call her that. It doesn’t look good for the new woman to talk about the ex like that.
But there’s no doubt she’s a total nutter. She’s completely out of it.
“Carter,” I start as he comes out of the bathroom, but the rest of my words fall away. He’s only wearing boxers, and his sculpted body is so distracting. Yum!
“Yes, sweetheart?” He smiles at me. God, that smile of his makes my knees go weak.
I close my eyes. “Where’s Lauren now?”
When I open my eyes again, he’s standing in front of me, looking down at me. “Why did you just close your eyes?”
“I…errmmm. Cause…er…you know, this”—I gesture at his body—“is pretty distracting!”
He grins. “What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean!”
He reaches for my hands and puts them on his chest. “You may touch this, you know.”
I have to smile. “I know, but we need to talk first.”
He kisses my cheek, then my neck. “How about I distract you some more first, and we talk later.”
“We never talk after. Now’s our only chance.”
“Unfortunately, you’re right. You wear me out so much I need my sleep afterwards. So I can keep up with a young thing like you.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re impossible.”
He brushes my hair out of my face. “Totally. Okay, let’s talk.” He sits down on the bed, his back against the headboard, and holds his arm out for me. “Come here.”
I snuggle up next to him, and he plants a kiss on my head.
“I sent her to a hotel,” he says. “She’s supposed to fly back to Miami tomorrow. I’m going to double her alimony to keep her out of our lives.”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
I look up at him. “I’m not sure it’s a good thing for her not to have any contact with the boys.”
“You heard what she said to them,” Carter says incredulously.
“Of course. I know. But the boys love her. She’s their mom. They’ll probably want to stay in touch with her. Ma
ybe it would be better to get her into rehab instead of just buying her silence.”
He runs a hand through his blond hair. “I’d love to get her into rehab, but there’s no point if she doesn’t want to go. If I force her, she’ll be drunk again the first day she gets out.”
I nod, drawing small circles on his belly. “I know. But I don’t like the idea of the boys never speaking to their mom again.”
Carter sighs. “It’s not ideal, but—”
“You can say that again.”
He smiles thinly and tugs at a strand of my hair. “You’re being pretty cheeky, miss.”
I sit up. “I know you want the best for your kids—”
“That’s always been my top priority.”
“So trust me when I tell you it won’t be good for either of them not to have contact with their mom. They’ll feel unloved, unworthy of love. Even if they’re almost adults, they still need their mother’s affection.”
“Affection?” Carter repeats. “Is that what you call it? She destroyed them!”
“She did,” I agree. “But she was drunk. When she sobers up, she’ll be sorry. Don’t you think?”
His entire body goes tense. “Frankly, I don’t give a shit. I’m not going to risk exposing my boys to that nightmare of a woman ever again.”
“But, Carter—”
“No buts! I don’t want that witch around them again.”
“Carter, I really think you’re making a mistake.”
“That’s your opinion. But it doesn’t change how I feel.”
“Aren’t you at least going to ask them what they want?” I ask, exasperated.
He gives me a piercing look. “No. I’m their father. I get to decide.”
“But Hunter’s almost eighteen—”
“So what?” Carter snaps. “Let me tell you one thing, Mac: if you ever have children of your own, you’ll see that sometimes you need to make decisions for them. They don’t always know what’s best for them.”
I never thought I’d hear Carter talk such nonsense. His kids weren’t infants! “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m dead serious.”
Wow. I always thought Carter was a great dad, but right now he’s wrong. Really wrong. I can feel my mouth hanging open, so I snap it shut.
When I don’t say anything, Carter turns toward his bedside lamp. “If you have nothing more to say about it, let’s sleep. Good night, Mackenzie.” And with that, he flips off the lamp.
I sit there in the dark. Was that our first real fight? I never thought it would be like this. I mean, I definitely thought it would be about his sons, but I never thought I’d end up defending them!
Getting out of bed, I go to the bathroom, remove my makeup, and brush my teeth. I take my time, letting my shock wear off, then I undress and crawl back into bed naked. I slide up to Carter, put my arms around his middle and squeeze my front side against his back.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “It’s your choice. Not mine.”
He pats my hand. “No, I’m sorry. You defended them like a lioness today, so I should let you speak your mind without getting pissy about it.”
I plant a kiss on his shoulder. “Are we good?”
He turns around and pulls me into his arms. “Don’t worry.” He kisses my forehead. “I love you, sweetie.”
I breathe a kiss onto his lips. “I love you, too.”
The next morning, I make breakfast. I don’t think the boys have had enough time to process all the drama yet, but I hope the progress we made in our relationship—even if it was kind of a knee-jerk situation—hasn’t evaporated. I really, really hope so.
“Good morning, sweetie. Just coffee for me, please.” Carter kisses me on the forehead, and I hand him his mug.
“Thank you. I guess the boys are still enjoying their break.” He glances at the clock. “I have to get going. See you tonight.”
I nod and go back to making breakfast for the boys. Pathetic? Your name’s Mackenzie Hall.
Naked feet slap on the stairs, so at least one of them is up. I’m praying hard that I haven’t become public enemy number one again over night.
“Morning,” I hear Hunter’s coarse voice.
“Morning.” I smile, turning toward him. He’s wearing shorts and a T-shirt, like every morning. “Breakfast?”
He nods. “I could really use some coffee.”
When I start to fetch him a mug, he says, “I’ll do it.” I freeze, because it sounds like a reproach. But then he quietly adds, “I mean you don’t have to wait on me.”
“Okay,” I stand around indecisively. Finally, I say, “I made bacon and eggs. There’s fruit salad in the fridge. If you want anything else—”
“That sounds great.”
I’m not sure which part of my menu has inspired his comment, so I just sit down and clasp my fingers together.
“Don’t forget to breathe,” he murmurs.
I smile and take a deep breath in. He’s way too perceptive. I turn my own eyes on him and watch him drink coffee for a while. “You okay today?” I ask.
He nods slowly. “Getting there.”
“What about Carey?”
Hunter looks at the ceiling. “It’s harder on him.”
For a long time, I don’t say anything, because I don’t want to overstep. But it’s hard to keep my trap shut about my work. Finally, I say, “Maybe he should talk to someone.”
“Like a therapist?” Hunter asks.
“Yeah.”
“Hmm.”
“I could recommend someone…”
“I’m not talking to a fucking shrink!” Carey’s voice comes from behind us. “I’m not crazy!”
Hunter and I turn around to find his brother looking very angry. “Nobody said you’re crazy,” I say gently. “It just might be helpful.”
“I’m fine, thanks.” He glares at me, and I wonder whether I’ve just ruined things all over again.
“Okay,” I say soothingly. “But if you ever do want to talk, I know some good people.”
“Humph.” He sits down and pulls an empty mug and the coffee pot toward him. I’m not sure a fifteen-year-old should be drinking coffee, but I don’t say anything.
“Bacon and eggs?” I ask after a while. They both nod, but before I can get up, Hunter does.
He serves himself and his brother, and they eat in silence. After a while, Carey asks me, still chewing, “Why do you know ‘some good people’?” He uses air quotes around the phrase I used.
“I’m a therapist. I have lots of great colleagues.”
He frowns. “I didn’t know that’s what you did for a living.”
I shrug. “I guess we haven’t done much talking.”
He nods and goes back to his breakfast.
“Maybe it’s not such a bad idea,” Hunter says suddenly.
Carey looks up. “What?”
“I mean maybe you should think about it.”
“You think I’m crazy?”
Hunter shakes his head firmly. “Of course not.” He pauses. “But, fuck, I mean, talking about it to Mac helped us, right?”
Carey’s hesitation melts into a slight nod.
“So maybe it’s a good idea.”
I look at the clock and see I have to get going. “Just think about it, okay?”
Carey doesn’t answer, but I can see something’s moving in his head. Which is a good sign.
“I gotta go,” I say. “See you guys tonight.”
“Bye,” they mumble.
Okay, so we’re definitely not going to be best friends, but the ice has certainly been broken. Not only that—I wasn’t scared in their presence, not even for a second. I know now they’re basically just oversized puppies. Very oversized.
I have appointments till early afternoon, then I have time to do a class with Jean. As usual, he makes a big show out of kicking my ass. But the other women think it’s funny, and that’s what matters. So I stay serene in the face of his verbal diarrhea and make a mental note t
o put some vinegar in his water bottle when I get a chance.
Even if I don’t have much time, I try to do classes two to three times a week. Otherwise, my butt would get too big. Not that it isn’t big already, but without exercise, I wouldn’t fit through doors. Maybe I should just give up, I think glumly. I mean, I eat healthy, I exercise, what else can I do? I guess I’m just not meant to be skinny. I wasn’t blessed with the kind of small ass cheeks and breasts that fit into tiny little bikinis. Just gonna have to live with it.
After training, I grab a shower before asking Sheila whether anybody else has signed up for today. When she says no, I decide to leave early and head over to the mall. I saw a nice dress there that I’m hoping they have my size.
I text Brittany just in case she has a minute. Even though the chances are slim. She’s just started dating a musician who drives her crazy night and day. In the best possible way. Roberto. His name definitely sounds sinful.
As I happily step out of a store with my new dress, I see a group of teenagers by the fountain in the middle of the mall. One of them raises his hand. Is that Carey? Maybe I should wear my glasses more often. But then he comes running over to me, and I can stop guessing. It is Carey.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Shopping.” I hold up my dress bag, but he doesn’t really care.
“I thought about it,” he says.
“Oh. Okay.”
He runs his hand through his hair, which is much too long these days. “Maybe it’s not such a bad idea.”
“I think you’re making the right decision. I know some good people.”
He shakes his head. “No, I’m not going to talk to a stranger. I can’t do that.”
I give him a confused look. “Then who…?”
He looks at me stubbornly. “You.”
Perplexed, I stare back at him. “Me?”
“Yes, you. You said it was your job, so…”
“It is. But—”
“So it’s settled then.”
“Wait. No!” I say as he turns to leave. “Carey, it’s not that simple. It’s not a good idea to do therapy with someone you know.”