Sinfully Mine(39)

I head out into the living room and sink down onto the couch. I lay my head on the armrest of the sofa, and as the minutes tick past, I realize that I want to be in her life. For real. Without any of the Dominant, macho bullshit to protect my heart. I just want her. I always have.

She’s the one girl I never forgot. And trust me, I tried. For years I tried to wipe my brain clean of the memories of her sweet and loving nature, her kindness, her spark. I sought out new companions to replace those memories with dirty ones. Apparently it didn’t work, because I still want her every bit as much as I did before. Maybe even more.

But she thinks I’m a complete prick, so what am I supposed to do?

• • •

While Macey slept, I attempted to make the banana pancakes she once made for me, but it ended with a mixing bowl of batter and a few burnt pancakes dumped down the trash before she woke. I don’t know how to cook, and apparently it’s harder than they make it look on TV. By the time I hear her stirring, I have takeout waiting for us on the counter, and I’m hoping it’s the thought that counts.

Tentative footsteps cross the wooden floor as Macey enters the kitchen. “That smells good.” Her eyes wander over the white pizza box on the counter. It seems she wants to look anywhere but directly at me.

Fuck, I wonder if this will get easier over time.

I shift a step toward her. “I hope you still like ham and pineapple.”

She nods. She’s got sleep lines across one cheek, and her long hair is tied up in a messy bun, but she looks gorgeous. Natural.

“And there’s salad too.” I grab the plastic bag on the counter and remove two side salads and a variety of dressing containers. I wasn’t sure which she liked.

“I hate salad.” She smiles wryly.

The mood lightens immediately, and my posture relaxes. “I do too.” I set the containers of salad aside and grab two plates while she opens the pizza box and places a slice on each of our plates.

We eat sitting together in the living room while her TV plays some daytime game show that neither of us is familiar with. We make small talk about the contestants, but otherwise eat mostly in silence. Things between us are still strained, but this isn’t the time to discuss that. Her thoughts are on Nana, as they should be.

After our meal, I drive her back to the hospital. Hale and Brielle are just leaving her room, and there are tears glistening in Brielle’s eyes.

I take Macey’s hand and hold it tenderly, as if that will shield her from whatever bad news we’re about to hear. “What’s going on?” I ask when we get closer.

They share a happy look. “She’s awake. And talking. They think the damage from the stroke is minimal.”

Macey practically sags with relief against me. “Thank God. Can I see her?”

Hale nods. “Yes. For a few minutes. She still needs her rest.”

Assuming it’s family only, I’m about to let Macey’s hand go when she tugs me along with her toward Nana’s room. It signals to me that I still mean something to her, that maybe she still needs me in her life. Or maybe she’s just afraid to go in alone.

I haven’t seen Nana in a long time, since last Christmas, I think, when she gave me the most hideous orange-colored hand-knit sweater. But as soon as my eyes land on her, my knees weaken. Her normally mocha-colored skin is ashen and pale, and a variety of tubes and wires connect her to a multitude of machines. The soft hum of the devices and the beeping in the background do not create a soothing environment. My grip tightens on Macey’s hand.

“Nana . . . ,” she says softly, and her voice breaks.

“Come here, child,” Nana whispers weakly.

Macey’s death grip on my hand means that I’m tugged along with her to the side of Nana’s hospital bed.

Macey and Nana hold hands, and we stand there in silence as the two woman just study each other, both with tears in their eyes. It’s a heavy moment, and I have no fucking idea what I’m supposed to say. Nothing seems right, so I stay quiet.

“You scared me,” Macey says, her voice shaky as a tear slips from her eye.

Nana frowns. “I’m not going anywhere. These doctors are just worrywarts.”

Macey smiles and leans down to kiss Nana’s forehead. “You better not go anywhere.”

Nana’s eyes land on me next, and I stiffen. I feel as though she can see straight through me, like she can read all of my intentions. A pang of fear flashes through me, and I want to hide the depraved man I’ve become from her all-knowing eyes.

Then a slow smile lifts her mouth. “I always knew you two would end up together.”

Macey opens her mouth to correct her, but I give her hand a firm squeeze.