Oh. My. God. That’s what you came up with?
“Oh, yeah, you too. Really great stuff today. And thanks for supper,” he answers. I can tell by his voice that he’s turned his head toward me. “It was delicious.”
We’re both quiet again, then finally, I say, “You were right.”
“About what?”
“About this being weird. Now that we’re lying here, I realize it does feel a little odd to share a bed with someone you’re not in a relationship with.”
“Do you want me to leave?” he asks, his deep voicedoing all the things to me that it shouldn’t. “It’s okay if you want me to leave. I won’t be offended.”
“No, I don’t,” I tell him, which is the God’s honest truth. “I just thought it was the elephant in the room and so if I brought it up, maybe it would get smaller. Or go away. Not that I don’t like elephants. I do. But … just … you know what I mean.”
He chuckles a little, then says, “I think so, yeah.” He turns to face me, and I can just make out the outline of his body in the dim light. “I haven’t slept with a woman like this since I was married.”
“Really? I thought you had lots of women all the time.”
“No, notallthe time. Just sometimes. But what I mean is, I haven’t gone to bed with a woman with the intention of just sleeping since I was married. Toward the end, that was the only reason either of us got into bed.”
Oh, the disappointment. That was a cold slap of water to my chocha. “Did you like being married?”
“Some things,” Mac answers, his voice sounding a little sad. “I was young and totally naive about the whole thing going in. To be honest, I think I liked the idea of it more than the actual institution itself.”
Institution. Spoken like a man who’s been burned. “Huh. And what was the idea of it for you?”
“Having someone I knew was just mine, and that wanted me to be just hers.” He shifts a little, causing the sheet to tug me in his direction ever so slightly. “That felt good. “After my mom died, I never felt like I belonged to anyone. My grandpa was terrific—he really stepped up—but he wasn’t exactly a hands-on type of caregiver.”
My heart aches as I listen to him talk. “Do you remember much about your mom?”
“Not too much, but I do know she made the best macand cheese in the world—she always cooked the noodles just right, like you, actually—and she was a real hugger. I can remember the way her face would light up when I’d walk into a room and she’d reach out for a hug or to drop a dozen kisses on my head,” he says, his words coming out slowly, as if he wants to make the memory last a little longer. “She used to help me make forts out of the couch cushions and some sheets, and we’d crawl in and she’d read to me with a flashlight. She was a great reader. She’d have different voices for each character and could do all sorts of accents. She could get me laughing like crazy, even when she was sick.”
My nose feels suddenly tingly and tears fill my eyes, imagining Mac, this big, strong, tough man, as a little kid, losing his mom. “She sounds wonderful.”
“She was the best,” he says, and even though I can’t see his face, I know he’s smiling. “What about you? Your mom sounds … interesting.”
“She’s an extremely driven woman with her own special way of showing she cares,” I answer.
“That was diplomatic.”
I chuckle a little, then say, “I learned that from her. The art of saying what you mean without actually having to say it.”
“Useful,” Mac says. “And not something Grandpa Jack ever taught me.”
“I’m guessing he’s more of a shoot-from-the-hip guy.”
Mac laughs a little. “How’d you know?”
“I’m clairvoyant.”
“Another skill for your resumé. And your dad? What’s he like?”
“He’s every bit as competitive and ambitious as my mother. That’s one of the things that makes their relationship work—they both need to be the best at beingmarried,” I say, my heart squeezing at the thought of them probably hating me right now. “They work hard to be better than all the other couples at the country club. They wanted to have the best children—the smartest, most talented, best looking, best manners, most athletic, highest achievers. If you’re not in it to win it, just stay home.”
“So you grew up being the best in your class at everything?”
“Not even close. My sister and brother were. But I never quite fit the mold.”
“That ‘being the best’ stuff, it’s all just nonsense. You know that, right?” he asks, and I swear to God, I can feel him moving closer to me even though he’s not moving at all.
