After the show ends I stand and chat with all my friends, feeling very, very lucky to have such great people in my life.
But still. There is a hollowness inside of me.
And ten minutes later I can’t be here anymore. “I’m going to go home now, Ming. I have a ton of work to do.”
“Let me take you over to your car,” Ming says.
“No,” I say. “I can take the train. I know my way.” I parked at the hangar so I didn’t accidentally bump into Mac. “Thank you so much for this, you guys.” I hug everyone and then make my escape down the stairwell to the train.
I don’t recognize anyone riding with me back to the airport, but Stonewall is a giant company, so that’s no surprise. I feel like an interloper though. Like everyone knows I don’t belong here anymore.
Strange. I spent almost all of my adult life in charge of people here. I’ve ridden this train with rock stars and professional baseball players. I’ve chatted with business moguls and four-star generals. I’ve guided hundreds, maybe even thousands of people to their spotlight.
I have to celebrate that right now. Because if I don’t force myself to find the good, the sad will take over.
I made a mistake walking away from Mac.
My phone buzzes in my purse and I absently fish around for it as I watch a couple get on the train. They are chatting excitedly, the man’s hand locked in hers. He leans into her ear to say something private, which elicits a blush and a smile from her.
I look down at my screen and my heart skips a beat.
Mac: I made a Pinterest board. Perhaps you’d like to check it out?
What the hell? I click the link in the text and pause. It takes me so long to come to terms with what I’m seeing, when I look up, that couple is already gone. In fact, I might’ve missed my stop.
The board is called Mac’s Delusional Love Affair.
I actually laugh out loud. Then I catch myself and look around to make sure no one heard me.
There are hundreds of pins. Pictures of the house I sent to Heath last summer. A wide farmhouse surrounded by a deep porch. The grass is green, so it’s got to be one of the pictures I pinned last year. I zoom in and see there are two coffee mugs out on the counter with names on them. Mac, one says. Ellie, reads the other.
There are dozens of pictures of the rooms inside, but not the pictures I had on my board, which was deleted months ago. New ones. I click the first picture, which is actually a side-by-side of two rooms. A nursery in pink with Ellie and Mac’s Baby Girl stenciled on the wall. A nursery in blue with Mac and Ellie’s Baby Boy stenciled on the wall. Each one is perfectly decorated with stuffed animals, the crib, changing tables, even matching rocking chairs in pink and blue.
The caption below reads: We might not have one of each, but it’s never a bad thing to be prepared.
What is this?
I click on the next picture and it takes me to a kitchen. A fabulous kitchen. Then I look through all of them. Rooms and rooms filled with things. And in each one there is something special displayed that says Mac and Ellie. Framed pictures. Pillows. And the office has two desks facing each other. There’s a close-up picture of the desk plates. Again, Mac and Ellie.
I text him back.
Ellie: What are you doing?
Mac: Sharing my delusional dreams with you.
I can’t help it, I laugh again.
Ellie: Why?
Mac: Because it’s all I have left, Ellie. Just the dream of all the things that never happened between us, but I desperately wish they had.
I feel a little tear run down my cheek.
Mac: Did you scroll down to the end?
I go back to the board and scroll down. The very last picture is Mac standing in front of a sold sign in the yard of my dream house.
Holding a puppy.
An Old English Sheepdog puppy.
Mac: Did you?
I am fully crying now.
Ellie: What did you do?
My phone buzzes and I tab the accept button. “Hello?”
“I want the dream, Ellie. I want it more than anything. And I know you wanted time to get your head straight. Make your own way in the world. And I couldn’t be more proud of you. But I can’t do it anymore. I can’t wait anymore, Ellie. I need you to get off that train at the airport. Because I will never stop texting you my delusional dream life until you’re a part of it.”
“Mac—”
“Just meet me in the hangar.”
Chapter Thirty-Six - Mac
Eloise Hatcher steps into the hangar wearing a long, red wool coat with a black belt that cinches at her waist. Her knee-high black boots hide her delicious legs, and the only thing on my mind is whether or not they have a zip-up back for easy removal.
Get it together, Mac. This is your only chance to win her over. You will not fuck her senseless until she buys into the dream.