Chapter 33
Eliza
Idon’t know how to describe what I’m feeling right now.
I always thought I’d be able to perfectly describe what losing my virginity felt like, but I can’t.
It’s a feeling beyond words. I’m pretty sure the only reason I’m feeling that way right now is because of Mac and how he treated me and the entire experience.
He took the time to build my trust and a relationship over weeks, never pushing anything and allowing me to go at my own pace.
Even tonight he made sure I knew that I could end all of it with a single word, but when I said I wanted this with him, I meant it.
I don’t think I’d have wanted this experience with anyone other than him, and that scares the crap out of me.
The tears forming in the corner of my eyes overflow, and he wipes the first one away with his thumb the second it falls.
“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, his voice so soft it feels like I’m being wrapped in a warm blanket.
“Perfect. I don’t think I could have imagined anything better.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down for a kiss.
It’s soft and intimate, probably too much for two people who are not in a real relationship.
When we pull apart, he rests his forehead against mine, and I wonder if he feels it too.
This connection that seems to go deeper than either of us have said out loud.
I don’t know if I want to even get my hopes up that he does.
We haven’t discussed what we want our futures to look like, but with a ten-year age difference, I’m not sure it’s the same.
I close my eyes as he slowly pulls out and lies beside me.
He intertwines our fingers as we lie beside each other, staring up at the ceiling, neither saying a word.
After a few moments, I slip away into the washroom to do my business before I stare at myself in the mirror.
I thought I might be able to see something different, maybe in my eyes or in the way I hold myself, but I don’t.
I look the same way I did when we arrived in London.
I pull the drain on the bath and start the shower, Mac slipping into the bathroom behind me.
We shower together in silence, and when we finish, he wraps me in a warm, fluffy towel and helps me dry off before doing the same to himself and following me into bed.
The difference is tonight, he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me in close, his chin resting on the junction of my neck and shoulder.
I relax into him, a sense of comfort overtaking me as I let out a deep breath, falling asleep shortly after.
I wake up alone, which I’m not surprised by after Mac told me how early he was leaving to meet his father in the office.
He left me a note on my bedside table about the pot of coffee he made before he left.
I smile as I stretch and pad my way to the kitchen and pour myself a cup before digging out my laptop to start my day.
I’ve lost track of time when my phone dings with a message from Mac.
Mac
Good morning, how are you feeling today?
Eliza
Amazing. Thank you for the coffee.
Mac
Of course. I’ll be back late tonight. Not sure when, but I’ll text you later.
Disappointment immediately fills me. I know it’s not entirely his choice that he’ll be late, his father is the one who’s keeping him at the office, but that doesn’t change the fact that I wish he’d be home with me.
Eliza
Okay. Just let me know.
He thumbs-ups my message, and I return to my work.
When I finally close my laptop, I decide to make one of my favourite recipes because I know it will still be good for Mac when he comes home later. When I finish, I leave a note for Mac on the counter and take my bowl with my Kindle to the couch.
I don’t realize I’ve fallen asleep until I’m being lifted off the couch in Mac’s arms. I nuzzle into his chest, letting out a little hum of contentment.
“I made food,” I murmur, and he kisses my forehead.
“Thank you,” he whispers against my skin as he lowers me to the bed.
“I’ll eat with you,” I say, trying to force myself to stay awake.
Small puffs of air brush my forehead as he laughs softly. “No need, love. Get some sleep.”
“Are you sure?”
He tucks the blankets under my chin before placing a soft kiss on my lips. “I’m sure. Go back to sleep.”
I hover between being asleep and awake, pulling the blankets closer to me as I bury myself deeper into the bed. It’s not until Mac joins me, his arm wrapped around me and pulling me close as his lips dust over my temple whispering words I can’t quite make out, that I’m falling asleep again.
I dream of him. But not in the present, in the future.
The hair at his temples is now grey, and the wrinkles around his eyes are more pronounced.
He’s sitting on a bench in a park as I watch him, but he doesn’t see me.
He’s staring out into the distance, and it isn’t until his smile starts to grow that I realize what he’s looking at.
A little girl with long brown hair comes running towards him. “Daddy, did you see? Mommy sent me real high on the swing.”
He picks the little girl up and places her on his leg as he smiles at her, kissing her cheek and causing her to giggle. “I did see, and did you have fun?”
“So much fun, Daddy. Can you send me super high now?”
He smiles up at a woman. I can’t make out any of her features; the sun is too bright and makes her look like a shadow. Mac’s eyes shine as he stares up at her.
“Is Mommy done making you go high?”
When the woman speaks, I note she has a Canadian accent, but that’s all I can tell about it. I can’t pinpoint if it’s familiar, but I do note the reaction it gives me. My stomach tightens and turns as Mac looks at her with love shining in his eyes, their little girl perched on his lap.
“I think I can pass along those duties,” she says.
Mac pinches the little girl’s sides as he kisses her cheek and stands.
They make their way to the swings, and I watch them. So relaxed spending a day in the park together.
“Do you have any of your own?” the woman asks, appearing at my side. I can’t look over for some reason, unable to take my eyes off Mac and the little girl.
“No.”
I can hear the smile in her voice as she says, “Children really are a blessing. Do you want any of your own?”
I open my mouth to answer, but I'm unsure of what to say because I’m not sure I’ve actually made that decision yet. When words seem to find the tip of my tongue as though I’ve made a decision before my brain can process it, I’m pulled from sleep by the blaring of my alarm.