Macy had known her father would die, Jake had told her that, and she'd even thought herself ready for it, but it turned out she hadn't been.
“What the hell, Macy. You look like shit!”
Annabelle and Branna were on her doorstep.
“Funny how that happens when you lose someone you love.” She was surprised she still had the strength to snap. It felt good, if she was being honest.
“We get that your father passed, and we're incredibly sorry for you, sweetheart,” Branna said, pushing Annabelle inside and closing the door. “And what Annabelle is trying to say in her tactful way is that you've had three days inside this house now, and it's time to come back out and join us.”
“Only three days, Branna, surely I get a few more? And where's your daughter?”
“With her daddy,” Annabelle said. “Now, Macy, the thing about grieving in your own company is that there's no one there to make you feel better.”
They reached the lounge, and Annabelle got on the floor next to Billy and tickled him. His laughter made Macy smile for the first time in days. Razzle raced around the room in circles, yapping.
“Man, I have never seen your place such a mess. I love it!”
Macy looked around and saw the dirty dishes and toys everywhere. Annabelle was right, it was a mess.
“I should clean up. It’s weird, but I can’t find my vacuum.”
“Well, if you want my opinion that’s a good thing, as the only positive about a vacuum is you can shut it off.”
“Now you go take a shower, because you smell, and then we’re going to the carnival,” Branna said, nudging her in the back toward the stairs.
“Oh, no, I don't—”
“Carnival! Is that today? Can we please go, Mom?” Billy leapt to his feet.
“No fair, Branna.” Macy sighed.
“Stop whining and move, and put some makeup on. You look like a ghost,” Annabelle added.
She made herself head upstairs, simply because she was too tired to argue. Her room was a mess, so she cleaned it because… just because she really should. Then did the same to Billy's, because she was a bad mother for making him get into an unmade bed. Then she took a shower.
Her father was dead, and as he was the only parent she’d had any kind of relationship with, it felt strange that now she was without him. It had hit her hard yesterday that she couldn't just get in her car and go see him. That he wouldn't be where he'd been last week, and the week before that. He wouldn’t see Billy grow up, and share any of his milestones, and because her mother didn't care, that made it doubly hard.
She cried in the shower, and then told herself in the mirror after that those were the last tears she was shedding. Her father wouldn't have wanted her to weep constantly. He'd want her to get on with her life.
After slipping on underwear, she dried her hair. Pulling on a lemon sundress and short white cardigan, Macy slipped her feet into sandals. She added a dash of makeup, because she couldn’t discount Annabelle hauling her back up here and doing it herself.
“Much better. You look less bride of Dracula, and more chic boutique owner again,” Annabelle said when she walked back into the room.
“You guys cleaned up.” Macy looked round her.
“We did, but with no vacuum we had to sweep your floor, which was weird but kind of fun.”
“I think Brad hid it.”
“Why would Brad hide your vacuum?” Branna asked.
“I told him I vacuum sometimes two or three times a day, and he said that's not normal.”
“You never told us you were still doing that.” Annabelle looked concerned. “How come you told him?”
Macy didn't want to tell them the truth so she lied, a small white one, but still, she wasn't about to admit he'd come over and they'd made hot, sweet-as-hell love.
“When we were hiding, waiting for Ethan at the Buchanan place, it just kind of came out then.”
