Chapter 20
Darren
"You've got that look," Dad says as he takes a drink of his beer, looking at me over the top of it.
"What the fuck are you talking about? What kind of look?"
He grins, and I wait for him to keep talking. If there's one thing I know about my dad, it's that when he speaks you listen, because he doesn't talk that much. "The look of a man who is finally happy with the life he has. The look of a man in love. You could say I recognize it."
There's no use in denying it. I love Macie, am falling in love with her. "I've liked her since the day I met her, but having her here with me the last few weeks? It's solidified that she belongs in my life."
"I'm happy to see you happy. Lord knows you deserve it."
I don't want to get into what kind of marriage I had that made me believe that love no longer existed, so I turn it away from that. "Maybe I was just waiting to meet her? Ya never know."
"Maybe you were." Dad claps me on the shoulder, and there's something in his eyes that tells me he means it more than he's letting on. "Maybe some things just take their own time showing up."
"Steaks are almost done," I tell him, flipping the last one on the grill. "Go tell Mom and Macie we're about ready out here."
He heads inside, and I stay out back another minute, letting what we talked about settle over me while I look through the kitchen window at Macie and Mom working side by side at the counter, both of them laughing about something I can't hear from out here.
It hits me square in the chest, watching them like that, how easy it's all become, like Macie's been part of this family a lot longer than a few weeks.
I plate up the steaks and carry them inside, setting the tray down on the table where everyone's already gathering, Ella putting Nicole into her booster seat, Dad grabbing extra napkins from the paper towel holder on the counter. It’s all so fucking domestic, and something I wasn’t sure I’d ever have.
"This looks amazing." Macie eyes the spread once we're all seated, green beans and potatoes and steak fanned out across the table. I hope this becomes a tradition between all of us, and not just a one-time thing.
"Family recipe," Mom says, passing the potatoes down. "Garlic's the secret. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
We settle into eating, conversation flowing easy around the table. Nicole's picking at her green beans, more interested in playing with her food than actually eating it, the way she always does when she's more excited about the company than the food.
"Nic, eat a few bites for me, okay?" I tell her, nodding toward her plate.
She stabs a piece of steak with her fork, chewing it slow, her eyes on mine, like she's doing me a personal favor, then looks over at Macie, swinging her feet under the table. "Mom, can I have juice instead of milk?"
The table goes dead quiet.
I freeze with my fork halfway to my mouth, and across the table Macie's gone completely still, eyes wide, like she's not sure she heard what she just heard.
Ella's looking between the three of us like she's watching a tennis match, and Mom's got her hand pressed against her chest, eyes glassy already.
"What'd you say, baby?" I ask, needing to hear it again before I let myself react.
"Can I have juice?" Nicole repeats, oblivious to the fact that she just dropped a bomb in the middle of dinner, still swinging her feet, waiting on an answer with ever-growing impatience.
"You called Macie mom," Ella says gently, leaning toward her niece.
Nicole shrugs, unbothered. "She is though."
Macie's face has gone through about four different expressions in the span of ten seconds, landing somewhere between shocked and overwhelmed, her eyes darting to me like she's looking for permission to react however she actually wants to react.
"Nicole, baby, that's really sweet." Macie's voice comes out a little shaky, and she reaches over to smooth Nicole's hair back from her face, buying herself a second before she has to say anything else. "You know I'm not your mom, right? I'm just Macie."
"But you take care of me. Mommies take care of you." Nicole says it so simply, so matter-of-fact, like she's already worked this whole thing out in her head. "You make my breakfast, and you do my hair, and you dance with me. That's what moms do."
I watch Macie's composure crack, tears welling up fast enough that she has to press her napkin to her eyes before they spill over completely.
"She's not wrong," I say quietly, reaching over to take Macie's other hand under the table. "You've been doing all of that, Mace. Every single day since you started staying here."
"I don't want to overstep." Macie's voice breaks a little on the words, looking between me and Nicole like she's terrified of taking something that isn't hers to take. "I don't want to replace anything, or make it seem like I'm trying to be something I'm not entitled to."
"You're not replacing anybody." I squeeze her hand, needing her to understand this before she talks herself into believing something that isn't true.
"Nicole doesn't remember her mother enough to compare anyone to her.
What she knows is you. What she's decided is you.
That's not you taking anything, Mace, that's her giving you something. It’s giving you everything. "
"Is it okay?" Nicole asks, looking between us with the kind of worried expression only a toddler can manage, like she's suddenly wondering if she said something wrong even though she clearly doesn't understand why everyone got so quiet.
"It's more than okay, baby." I reach over and squeeze her little hand where it's resting on the table. "You can call her whatever feels right to you. If mom's what feels right, then mom's what she is."
Macie's really crying now, quiet tears sliding down her cheeks, and she leans over to press a kiss to the top of Nicole's head. "I would be so honored to be your mom, Nic. So, so honored."
"Yay!" Nicole claps, delighted, completely unaware of the magnitude of what just happened, already moving on to stabbing another piece of steak like the conversation's over and there's nothing left to discuss.
Mom's crying too now, not even bothering to hide it, and Dad's got his arm around her shoulders, both of them watching the scene unfold with the kind of look that tells me they've been hoping for something like this for longer than they've ever said out loud.
"Well." Ella clears her throat, voice thick. "I did not expect to cry into my green beans tonight, but here we are."
The rest of dinner passes in a blur. Nicole completely unbothered, chattering about her day with Mom while the rest of us keep catching each other's eyes across the table, still a little stunned by how naturally this all came out.
By the time everyone starts clearing plates and gathering their things to head home, it's well past Nicole's bedtime, her eyes drooping over her last few bites of dessert.
Mom scoops her up for one more hug before Dad pushes Mom toward the car.
I hope I can get Nicole settled in for bed once everyone clears out, and Ella lingers by the door another minute.
"That was something," she says quietly, glancing back toward the kitchen where Macie's finishing up the dishes.
"Yeah." I still feel it sitting right in my chest, that word Nicole used without a second thought. "It was."
"I like her for you, Darren. I really do." Ella pulls me into a quick hug. "Text me tomorrow, let me know how the rest of your night goes."
"Get out of here." I push her toward the door, laughing, and she does, waving over her shoulder as she heads to her own car.
Once everyone's gone, Nicole’s in bed, and I've got the house locked up for the night, I head into the kitchen where Macie's still standing at the sink, rinsing the last of the dishes, her shoulders a little tense like she's still unsure about everything that happened at that table.
"Hey." I come up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist, resting my chin on her shoulder. "You okay?"
"Yeah." She leans back into me, setting down the sponge. "Just a lot to take in. I wasn't expecting that tonight."
"Me neither." I press a kiss to the side of her neck. "For what it's worth, I've never seen anything hit me like that did. Watching her say it, watching your face when she said it."
"It felt like everything, Darren." She turns around in my arms, facing me now, eyes still a little glassy. "Like every scared part of me finally settled into the fact what we’re building here is real."
"It is real." I cup her face in both hands. "You're real. This is real. All of it."
She kisses me then, soft at first, but it doesn't stay soft for long, both of us pouring everything from tonight into it, every emotion still sitting close to the surface after everything that just happened at that table.
Instantly my cock is hard, and I want her underneath me.
I back her up against the counter, and she fists both hands into my shirt, pulling me closer, kissing me like she's trying to prove to herself that this is really happening.
"Darren." Her voice comes out breathless when she finally pulls back enough to speak.
"Yeah?"
"Take me to bed."
I don't need to be told twice. I lift her up onto the counter first, just to kiss her properly, her legs wrapping around my waist, hands sliding up into my hair while I trail kisses down her neck, feeling her pulse jump under my lips.
She tastes like the dessert she had after dinner, and she smells sweet as hell. I put her back down for a second.
"I love you," I murmur against her skin, needing her to hear it again after everything tonight.
"I love you too." She pulls my face back up to hers, kissing me deeper this time, one hand sliding down to grip the front of my shirt while the other stays tangled in my hair. "So much, eight pack."
I laugh, before fully lifting her off the counter, and she wraps herself around me, legs locked at my waist, still kissing me like she can't stand the idea of stopping even for the ten seconds it'll take to get down the hallway.
I carry her that way, bumping into the doorframe once because I refuse to break the kiss long enough to look where I'm going, both of us laughing against each other's mouths before diving right back in.
By the time we make it to the bedroom, I'm ready to lay her down and spend the rest of the night showing her exactly how much tonight meant, how much every single day with her in this house has meant, how much that one word from my daughter settled something in my chest I didn't even know was still unsettled.
"Mine," I murmur against her lips, laying her back against the sheets.
"Yours," she agrees, pulling me down with her, and the rest of the house goes quiet around us, nothing left in the world tonight except the two of us and everything we've built here together.