36. Shelby
Istand up, wanting to laugh. “That’s not him.”
“Shelby, who the hell else dresses like that? And in the summer?”
I watch, agog, as the man in the red flannel and jeans does a beautiful arcing dive off the side of the boat way out there, landing in the water with next to no splash.
Diving seems like something Mac would be good at.
I nearly trip on one woman and accidentally step on a bag of someone’s chips as I walk down the beach, picking my way around the crowd. “Sorry,” I say, grimacing. But my eyes aren’t on my path of destruction.
They’re on him.
My heart’s in my throat as the man gets closer.
The man who couldn’t possibly be Mac.
When Annie came to pick up Nate this morning, my heart fell. I wanted to see him, no matter how angry I was. I wanted to throw my arms around him, and then maybe shove him as hard as I could. But he was back in Redbeard.
But big, wet, red-and-black checked arms cut through the sparkling blue ocean now, in an expert front crawl, until finally he’s in the swimming area, and there’s no room for doubt.
Mac navigates around the giant raft and the people leaping off it.
Swimmers are starting to notice. They point at the clothed man swimming, glancing from him to me.
Halfway into the buoyed area, when he reaches a spot where he can touch, Mac stands up, slicking the hair out of his face, his eyes scanning the beach.
I’m in the water, calf-deep, trembling with something I’m not sure is love or tears or anger.
Probably a mix of all three.
When his eyes land on mine I swear I feel the hope in his expression.
Mac wades through the water extremely awkwardly, splashing bathers he passes, several of whom yell.
“Sorry,” he says, not even looking at them.
He stops only when he’s a few feet away from me, his chest heaving. “Shelby,” he breathes. “Hey.”
For a moment, I only stare. Finally, I say, “Hello, Mac.” Then I reach my hands up, my fingertips grazing the soaked flannel spread across his chest.
His big dripping-beard face fills with a look of relief that nearly breaks me.
I want to jump on him, to kiss him all over his face. I want to cup my hands against his cheeks and tell him to pick me up and carry me home. Because he would. I know he would.
But I don’t do those things. Instead, I rest my hands against his chest. Then, because there are children around, I yell “Screw you!” and shove him as hard as I can, fulfilling my own wish from earlier to knock the stupid man over.
Mac’s off balance in the water to begin with, and I manage to make him stumble backward. He probably would have caught himself if there hadn’t been a beach ball floating behind him. But the big yellow orb gets twisted up in his legs. It pops up in the air like a cork as he falls backward on his ass with a giant splash.
The crowd around us whoops. A toddler next to me thinks this man is the most hilarious thing he’s ever seen and lets out a delighted shriek.
Mac sputters in the water, shaking water from his hair. “Shelby.”
“You deserved that!” I yell. Then I stride past him and dive into the water, swimming as hard and fast as I can for the raft.
I pick my way around the people and sit on the far side.
Mac’s there a moment later.
“Shelby.” He treads water in front of me. “You’re right. I deserved that.”
I lift my knees up, wrapping my arms around my legs. “You were such an asshole, Mac!”
“I know.”
“Why are you here?”
“Because I love you.”
“Aw!” a trio of women in their early twenties beside me says. They’re in matching bikinis in red, yellow, and blue.
Mac glances at them and grits his teeth, swimming closer to me, like he somehow wants this very public moment to only involve us. His eyes are pleading with me.
“What did he do?” Yellow asks.
“He broke up with me because he was scared.”
“Seriously?”
Blue folds her arms. “Scared of what?”
“I was scared she would leave me,” Mac says, not even looking at them. His eyes remain locked on mine. “So I left her first.”
“That is so stupid,” Yellow says.
I prop my hands on my hips. “Right?” Even as I think the words Chris said to me once when I saw him completely ignore a pair of women trying to wave him over to the bar when I was there. He only has eyes for you, Shelby. I swear, it’s like a medical condition.
I feel the tiniest crack in my resolve.
“I should have trusted you,” Mac says. “You never gave me any reason to doubt you. I just…I’ve never had anyone who really loved me stick around. I was sure I’d f—mess it up.”
My heart melts, just a little, as I think about what he’s been through.
“You need to get help for that,” Red says.
I nod. “She’s right. You need to find someone to talk to who isn’t me. A professional.”
“Okay,” Mac says with zero hesitation. Except to look mildly uncomfortable that these other women are still involved in this conversation.
“And you need to make her feel safe,” says Yellow.
“Make it up to her,” says Blue. “With, like, diamonds.”
“Actually no,” I say, sensing this is going to get carried away. “That’s fine. Thank you. I appreciate your help.”
Red shrugs. “Your loss.”
They get back to chatting and looking gorgeous.
Mac, meanwhile, swims over to my side. “Shelby, I’m so sorry. I hurt you, and I hurt Nate too, by losing you. I promise I will never do that to you again.”
He looks so pained and so hopeful all at once. My stupid heart fully softens as he dips his forehead onto my calf. “Please, Shelby.”
A beat passes. Then I say, “You booked hotels all over town for me.” Even though I stayed in Lana’s spare room that night, both Diane and Elizabeth called to ask if I was okay, telling me Mac booked rooms at their places. I suspected they weren’t the only ones he called.
“I didn’t want you to have to pay for a room when it was my fault you left.”
I was so touched he did that, but still so furious. The last of that anger, just a tiny ember, is trying hard to keep smoldering. “Which means you knew what you were doing was wrong the minute I left.”
“I knew it was wrong while I was doing it, Shelby.”
This crack makes a whole piece of my anger tumble into the water. That burning ember hisses.
A tear falls onto my thigh.
“You told Nate I’d never leave him.”
“Even if you say no to me now”—his Adam’s apple bobs—“I would understand. But I hope you could be a part of his life in some way. He loves you too.”
I nod, my eyes filling with tears now. They spill over, so much that I don’t see what’s happening until Mac has me by the waist. He pulls me down into the water, and with his legs pumping underneath us, he holds me against him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop being sorry.”
I press my hands over his lips. Then I push away from him, rest my hands on his shoulders, and press down. He just manages to get a breath before we’re both submerged.
He’s blurry under here, his hair swirling around him like a merman. I grip his shirt and pull him to me. I kiss him, just a press of lips underwater. Just enough, in a space where no one else can see, to show him that even if I’m still mad, I’ll love him anywhere.
I want to be over it. I really do. But when we swim back to shore and get out together, half the beach cheering. I walk with my head down toward my chair.
There’s still a knot in my heart, one I’m not sure how to untie.
I grab my towel and dry my face.
Deanie looks questioningly between the two of us. “Can I stop hating him now?”
I look up at Mac. “I don’t know.” I let out a little sob I didn’t know was there.
Mac looks like he wants to hurt the world for hurting me.
“Come on,” she says. “Let’s go.”
We help her pack up, which mostly involves loading Mac up with all the stuff, and head for her car. She drops us off at my place to change and says she’ll meet us at the office in an hour. I don’t know what she’s talking about, and I don’t question it. I just lead Mac upstairs.
“You can wear those,” I say, pointing to the outfit his son was wearing last night until his clothes dried.
I leave him to go have a shower, then pull on a sundress. I decide it looks too sexy, so I switch for jeans and a tank top.
I don’t love that either. I start to cry, and the cries quickly turn into sobs.
A soft knock on the door sounds. “Can I come in?”
I turn sideways. “Yes,” I mumble, trying to wipe away the tears. They won’t stop.
The bed dips as Mac sits beside me. “Shelby. I don’t expect you to say anything or to make a decision. I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry, and I love you. Also…I don’t want you to quit your job. You blow my mind with how good you are at it. Watching you in your element brings me almost as much joy as watching you…well, doing everything.”
“You’re talking about sex,” I blubber, still not looking at him.
“Not only sex. But yes, sex. But I love watching you play video games with Nate too. I love you finding a camel on something. I love you crying through every Disney movie and falling asleep during action movies. I love you making everyone in Redbeard fall in love with you just by spending the tiniest bit of time with them. I love…you, Shelby.”
I wanted to ask him why me, when he could have his pick. But he’s just told me why. And better, he already showed me why. I’m making him tell me over and over again…
“I…maybe I need a therapist again too, Mac.”
His warm hand spreads across my back tentatively before he pulls it away.
“I think that’s a good idea.”
“I love myself, Mac. I really do. But sometimes I feel like I have to do so much to make other people love me too.”
“Shelby,” he says. “I promise you. All you have to do with me is keep being you.”
I turn to him finally, blinking away my tears. I see him as a little boy, looking adorably at his family. I see him as the teenager, trying to save the whole world. I see him as this man, so cautious and reserved but so willing to give everything for anyone. Right down to the shirt off his back. “Oh, Mac,” I say. Then I look down. “Oh…Mac.”
Laughter bubbles up in me, like a geyser.
The heartache and worry on his face are overtaken by a look of confusion.
“You never told me you were a Canucks fan.”
Mrs. Liu’s son is not a large man. He’s an average-sized guy who wears average, medium-sized clothes. On Mac, the Jersey and shorts give a new definition to the word snug.
Mac flushes. “Yes,” he says. “Me and the team, we’re tight. So to speak.”
I fall back on the bed, laughing. I laugh so hard I’m crying again, and when Mac leans over me in that jersey, I laugh again.
“Damn it,” he says. He peels it off, and the next time he appears next to me, he’s bare chested.
I finally calm down.
“Better?” he asks.
He’s not asking about the clothes.
“Better,” I whisper.
“I love you, Bryony Shelby Jones.”
I nod, the tears coming again. “I love you too, Alasdair.”