Chapter 19 #2
Even Paul, her ex-fiancé, gets up to speak, and I'm so furious at his presence that I want to storm out of the room.
He has no right to be here, no right to claim grief.
Mac's hand never leaves mine throughout the entire service, his fingers intertwined with mine in a grip that's probably cutting off my circulation, but I don't care.
I can feel the tension radiating from his body, the way he goes completely still whenever someone mentions Lily's dreams of marriage and children and the future she'll never have.
He doesn't speak during the service, doesn't get up to share his own memories, but his silence feels heavy with all the words he can't say.
During the reception afterward, I watch him navigate his old world with the careful precision of someone walking through a minefield.
He gravitates toward his teammates, clearly more comfortable with them than with his own family members, who seem to treat his presence like an obligation rather than a comfort.
The Howlers, unsurprisingly, are loud and confident, dominating every conversation with inside jokes and hockey stories that exclude everyone else.
Their wives and girlfriends hover nearby in a tight cluster, sipping white wine and whispering behind their glasses with the practiced ease of people who've learned to entertain themselves at these kinds of events.
I notice when Stephanie attempts to join their circle, but she's politely frozen out after just a few minutes and eventually wanders away to find more receptive company.
I've remained glued to Mac's side through most of the afternoon, barely being acknowledged by anyone except for polite nods and the occasional, "So sorry for your loss," directed more toward Mac than toward me.
I'm starting to feel invisible, like a piece of furniture that's been dragged along for no particular reason.
I want to scream that Lily was my friend too, and I'm not just here as Mac's temporary side piece. But there's no use.
"So you own a bookshop?" Asks one of the men Mac seems most comfortable with when he gets distracted by a conversation with one of Lily's college friends. The teammate is handsome in a clean-cut, all-American way, with friendly eyes and a genuine smile that immediately puts me at ease.
When I nod, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his attention, he grins and extends his hand. "That's really cool. Mac mentioned you're working to revitalize some small tourist town?"
"Millbrook Falls isn't exactly dying," I say, bristling slightly at the implication. "It's just... evolving. Adapting to changes in tourism patterns."
"Hey, no offense meant," he says quickly, holding his hands up in mock surrender when he sees my defensive expression.
"You know how Mac is with descriptions. Everything's either amazing or terrible, no middle ground.
" He laughs at his own observation. "I'm Jake Morrison, by the way.
Mac talks about you constantly. It's almost nauseating how often your name comes up. "
"Does he really?" I ask, glancing over at Mac, who's now glaring daggers at his teammate with obvious mortification.
"Oh yeah," Jake continues, clearly enjoying Mac's discomfort. "Delaney this, Delaney that, you'd think he was–"
"Jake." Mac's voice carries a warning that could freeze hell, but it only makes Jake's grin wider.
"Right, shutting up now," Jake says with obvious insincerity. "But seriously, it's good to see him happy again. Really good."
I study Mac's face, noting the flush creeping up his neck. "You actually talk about me to your teammates?"
"It's not..." Mac scrubs a hand over his stubbled jaw, looking like he wants to disappear into the floor. "They ask how I'm doing. You're part of how I'm doing now."
"Wait, I have to ask," Jake interrupts with the kind of mischievous gleam that suggests he lives to embarrass his friends. "Are you really making Mac read romance novels? Because the entire team thinks that's the funniest thing they've ever heard."
I'm momentarily speechless, shocked that Mac would even admit something like that to his hypermasculine teammates.
"They're not just romance novels," Mac says defensively, his cheeks reddening further. "Most of them are actually well-written with complex character development and–"
His teammates burst into raucous laughter, the sound carrying across the room and drawing curious glances from other mourners.
"Holy shit, Sullivan," one of them manages between chuckles, punching Mac's shoulder with brotherly affection. When our eyes meet, he shoots me a playful wink. "She really got to you, didn't she?"
"Mac defending romance novels?" Jake adds, wiping tears from his eyes. "Lily would have died laughing at this development."
The words slip out before he realizes what he's said, and the entire group goes silent.
"She would have," Mac says quietly, his voice carrying a mixture of sadness and fondness. "She would have been absolutely insufferably smug about the whole thing, too."
The moment passes, but I catch Stephanie watching our group from across the room with an expression I can't quite read. She looks like she's seeing a stranger wearing her ex-boyfriend's face, like this version of Mac is completely foreign to her.
"What's so funny over here?" Asks a petite blonde woman in an expertly tailored black dress, approaching our circle with four other women in tow. The wives and girlfriends have apparently decided to investigate the source of all the laughter.
"Mac is completely whipped," someone explains, which sets off another round of laughter from the men.
Mac just rolls his eyes with practiced resignation. "Simone, can you please put a leash on your husband before I have to hurt him?"
The blonde woman—Simone—shakes her head with fond exasperation, sending a warning glare toward the man who made the comment.
Despite being at least a head shorter than every single one of these massive athletes, they all take a respectful step back to give her room to move, clearly recognizing her as the alpha of their social pack.
"You must be Delaney," Simone says warmly, reaching across the circle to shake my hand with genuine enthusiasm. "I was really hoping to get a chance to meet you today. Mac's told Connor so much about you."
I glance at Mac for help, but all he offers is an encouraging smile as he shifts out of the way, creating a clear path between me and the women who are obviously waiting to absorb me into their group.
"You'll be fine," he leans down to whisper in my ear as I reluctantly move toward them, and it takes concentrated effort to keep my fist at my side instead of swinging it into his smug face.
What if these women are solidly Team Stephanie? What if they want to interrogate me about our bet, or worse, about whether I'm good enough for one of their social circle?
Suddenly, I'm realizing this is exactly how Mac must have felt every single day since arriving in Millbrook Falls—completely out of his element, surrounded by people who know things he doesn't, operating by social rules he hasn't learned yet.
He knows I'm on his territory now, that I have to play by the unwritten rules of his world.
Clever bastard.
Simone immediately takes charge, going around the circle and introducing each of the other four women with the efficiency of someone who's used to managing group dynamics.
She rattles off names and relationships—Isabella, who's married to Tommy and owns an Italian restaurant; Rachel, who teaches high school and has twin toddlers; Zara, who's recently engaged and works as a pediatric nurse; Bella, who's expecting her first baby and does something in marketing that I immediately forget.
I forget every single name as soon as I hear it, too focused on keeping my smile from looking forced and trying not to say anything that will reveal how completely out of my depth I am.
The reality that these women are married to extremely popular, extremely wealthy professional athletes hits me like a physical blow, and I feel like I'm drowning in the weight of their designer clothes and casual references to vacation homes and charity galas.
"Well, don't look so terrified," Simone says gently, rubbing a comforting hand across my back when she notices my deer-in-headlights expression. "None of us bite, I promise."
"Sorry," I mutter, staring into my empty wine glass like it holds the secrets of the universe. "There have been a lot of introductions today. I'm not usually good with crowds."
"Mac mentioned you were close with Lily," Simone continues, her voice taking on the careful tone people use when referencing Lily.
I nod, my lips curving into a sad smile that feels more natural than anything I've managed so far. "Since we were kids. We spent summers together when Mac's family would visit Millbrook Falls. It's strange how time can feel like it's moved so fast and crawled by at the same time."
They take turns expressing their condolences with the practiced grace. "She really was a special person," one of them says—I think it's Isabella. "Much more outgoing than Mac ever was."
"Definitely," agrees the redhead next to her—Zara, maybe?
"When we first heard about this bet you two made, we were honestly confused.
Mac has always been intensely private, but after the accident, he turned into a complete recluse.
Derek was genuinely worried about his mental state for a while there.
Then suddenly we started seeing all these headlines about romance novels and small-town bets, and we thought he must have completely lost his mind. "
Simone nods in agreement, turning her full attention back to me with the kind of intense focus that makes me want to squirm. "How on earth did you convince him to participate in something so public?"