Page 8 of Take What Hurts

Hannah 6:33PM

You didn’t deny her hotness.

Elliott 6:34PM

It doesn’t matter.

Hannah 6:35PM

So you DO think she’s hot

Elliott 6:36PM

I have eyes But it doesn’t matter. No more handing out my personal number to lawyers on the opposing side.

I’m going to go now. I’ll see you Tuesday

Hannah’s next message was nothing but emojis. Blazing hearts, heart-eyed smiley faces. The usual.

“Dinner’s ready!” Nancy’s voice rang out from the dining room. Luka and Lyla ran by, followed by Grey, Harry, and Jessica. Elliott stared at the message thread with Mackenzie for another moment before her stomach lurched, and she hit the lock button and followed her family into the dining room.

SIX

MACKENZIE

The restaurant Mackenzie’s mother had picked was, irritably, one they’d been to before and one that Mackenzie had thought was overpriced for what it was. Naturally, it was one of the pricier fine-dining restaurants in Seattle, and it was, therefore, an essential component of her mother’s persona. Mackenzie all but dragged herself out of her apartment door and into the Uber that would ferry her into the next phase of her evening.

She felt, well, a bit stupid, really. She’d sent Elliott a text message about the offer immediately after she’d sent her an email. If it had been Mackenzie on the receiving end, she would have been confused at best and pissed at worst receiving more than one piece of communication from the opposing lawyer about an offer. Like, when would she have had time to get instructions from her client to even discuss it with the other side? So, naturally, she wished she could take it back as soon as her phone had made the whooshing noise and the message had gone out into the ether.

Add to that the prospect of an evening spent with her mother, and Mackenzie was feeling truly despondent.

As the Uber crawled downtown toward the harbor, Mackenzie wondered why she continued to torture herself by agreeing to catch up with her mother when she was in town. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d left a catch-up with her and felt good about herself or her life or, well, anything, really. She wasn’t sure what she was getting out of the relationship except that she was her mother and she was still here.

Reilly had left her with ease at what was, categorically, the worst time in her life, but her mother had at least answered the phone when Mackenzie had called. She’d listened as Mackenzie had choked out the words through racking sobs and had told Mackenzie it was a shame and invited her to dinner. She had felt an unusual warmth from her mother in the moment, but ever since, she’d wondered if she’d imagined it, because they’d never spoken about it again.

She supposed the heaviness of guilt that lived inside her stomach had something to do with it. Her father had never wanted kids. He’d asked Mackenzie’s mom to “deal with it.” Her mom had refused, despite the fact that she described him to Mackenzie as her deepest, greatest love. He’d left her days after Mackenzie had come into the world. And Mackenzie, for the life of her, couldn’t remember a time when her mother had let her forget it. That she was the reason her father had left them both. Left them with nothing. Left her mother to scrap and scrape for rent and whatever else they had needed. And, to her mother’s credit, Mackenzie had never wanted for anything. Not anything tangible, anyway. And that was the crux of the thing. Her mother had spent her life hurt, and Mackenzie was the root of it.

It didn’t make interacting with her mother any easier. And she wished she could stop. But that incessant tug and pull inside her was hard and strong and demanded compliance.

The Uber finally pulled up to the curb outside the restaurant, and she sighed, thanked the driver, and crawled out of the low sedan onto the pavement. With another deep breath, she straightened her spine, pulled her head up high, and walked with as much confidence as she could muster into the crowded restaurant.

Her mother was seated at a table by the window, and Mackenzie’s first thought was whom she’d berated to get that table on a busy Friday night. She repressed an eye roll.

“Hi, Mom.” Mackenzie pulled out the seat across from her and tried to smile as she sat.

Her mother didn’t look up from her phone. “You’re late,” she muttered.

Mackenzie’s stomach rolled, the old feeling of an urgent need to please rising like a tide. “Sorry about that. Traffic was bad coming this way.”

Her mother finally looked up from her phone. “And what have I told you about planning ahead? It’s a Friday night, after all.” She finished with what Mackenzie supposed passed as an attempt at a smile, laden as it was with thinly veiled contempt. “Honestly, it’s a wonder you make it through the day.”

Mackenzie’s face ran hot, and she wished she didn’t have such a tendency to blush when she was embarrassed. “You’re right, Mom. I’m sorry.” Grasping for any way to get her mother off this train of conversation and onto something that didn’t make Mackenzie feel sick with need to appease her, Mackenzie clutched her menu between white-knuckled and slightly sweaty hands. “Do you know what you’re having?”

“Of course.” Her mother sniffed, returning her gaze to her phone. “I’ve ordered for us already. Rib eye, well done, with a side of steamed greens. There’s a bottle of Grange coming as well.”

Now Mackenzie ran hot all over. She didn’t eat red meat—not really. She wasn’t a vegetarian, but she didn’t particularly like the taste of meat and only ate it occasionally. She certainly wouldn’t choose to order what had to be a $200 rib eye at a restaurant. She also wasn’t a red wine drinker. It usually ended in a migraine, even after expensive red wine and after only one glass. Her mother knew all of that. “Mom, why⁠—”

Her mother’s sharp gaze lifted from her phone to Mackenzie. Her lip curled until she was almost snarling with what she knew would be a victory.