Chapter 7 #3
“Every time I questioned something, he had an answer, spoken in a way that made me feel like I was being unreasonably jealous. Something I was sensitive about, given Dale’s insane jealousy. Eddie’s comments sort of made me feel like I was the Dale in our relationship, and I hated it.”
“He was gaslighting you,” Tank said angrily.
McKenna touched her nose, indicating he’d gotten it in one. “Thing is, I kept buying his answers. I wanted them to be true because I thought he was the one,” she said. “I figured we’d live together for a couple years, get engaged, then married, then have kids. The whole shebang.”
“That’s what you want?”
She nodded. “More than anything.”
Three months ago, Tank would have scoffed at anyone in their twenties wanting to tie themselves to one person for the rest of their lives. The twenties were for sowing wild oats, living life to the fullest. Marriage and kids were what you did when you got too old to have fun.
Now, though, the idea of McKenna wearing his wedding ring, her stomach round with their baby was…
Tank froze, his brain locked on that image.
And it locked hard.
He didn’t even try to dismiss it or call himself an idiot or anything, because now that he’d seen it…
He wanted it.
Her.
Them.
“Finally, a colleague at work, an older woman I respected, pulled me aside and said it was time to open my eyes. Apparently, everyone at the company knew he was having an affair with Lisa. The woman said I was too good of a person to let a man cheat on me. It was hard to hear, but I was grateful to her for saying it. I confronted Eddie. He accused me of being jealous. Said he couldn’t be with someone who was always so suspicious, and we broke things off. ”
“So he continued to deny it. What an asshole,” Tank grumbled. “Good riddance.”
McKenna nodded in agreement. “He couldn’t deny it for long, because within six months, he was engaged to Lisa.
I’d started looking for a new job a couple months after we split, but I wasn’t having much luck finding one that paid as well.
I had to cover my rent and living expenses.
In the end, I stopped looking in Columbus.
I decided I needed to completely clean the slate—and not just at work but a total overhaul.
I applied for the job with the Stingrays, got it, and moved to Baltimore. ”
“So it’s a happy ending.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I love it here. Which is why I won’t do anything that’ll risk what I’ve found—a great job, new friends, cool townhouse with sweet neighbors.”
McKenna hadn’t just thrown a roadblock in his path. She’d erected an entire fortress.
Awesome.
She tucked her legs under herself once more, and he could see she was cold. He used that observation to his advantage, sliding closer to her.
“You look like your mom,” he observed, nodding toward the photos on the shelves, changing the subject to something less painful—for her and himself.
McKenna glanced over. “She calls me her mini-me. I’ve seen pictures of her when she was my age and it’s kind of uncanny. How about you? You take after your mom or your dad?”
“Looks-wise? I’m actually a pretty good blend. Got my dad’s hair color and complexion, my mom’s eyes and nose—thank God.”
McKenna laughed. “And personality-wise?”
Tank shrugged. In a lot of ways, he took after his dad—they were both competitive and ambitious, and they both possessed more than their fair share of arrogance—but it didn’t bring Tank much joy to admit that.
He and his dad had been estranged ever since his mom—who had been the glue—passed away.
“Another blend,” he said, hedging. “Got my dad’s drive to succeed, my mom’s sense of humor. How about you?”
“I am nothing like my mother. She always joked that if not for our identical looks, she would have taken me back to the hospital years ago, certain they’d sent her home with the wrong baby.”
Tank shifted slightly on the couch, closing the distance between them even more.
He felt a bit ridiculous sitting in a jersey and boxers.
Or at least, he did until McKenna’s gaze lowered, taking in his muscular legs.
Resting his arm along the back of the couch, he brushed his fingers along the side of her neck, enjoying the way she shivered.
He half expected her to call him out for his intimate touch, so he was pleasantly surprised when she didn’t. Instead, she did one better, shifting toward him another inch or two, so that her knee rested against his thigh.
“Are you cold?” she asked, gesturing toward the fleece blanket hanging on the couch. “The windows in the townhouse are as old as the place is, so it tends to be drafty in here, no matter what time of year.”
Tank didn’t answer but reached around her, grabbing the blanket and flipping it open, then covering both of their laps. “We can share heat this way.”
McKenna’s teeth tugged on her lower lip, but again, she didn’t reject his offer.
Tank had just decided to push his luck and go for broke, leaning toward her for a kiss, when another bright flash of lightning lit up the room before there was a crash outside and a fizzling sound that caused the lamps to flicker and go out.
They waited a good fifteen seconds, but the lights remained off.
“Damn,” McKenna said, jumping from the couch. “Power’s out.”
Tank rose as well, grabbing his phone from the coffee table at the same time she reached for hers, both of them clicking on the flashlight app.
McKenna opened the single drawer in one of the end tables, rummaging around until she found a lighter. He watched as she made her way around the living room, lighting at least half a dozen candles he hadn’t even noticed until that moment.
“Fan of candles?” he asked.
“Love them,” she admitted, lighting the last. “Especially scented ones. I try to match smells with the holidays or seasons.”
“What does March smell like?”
“March is a tough one. It’s straddling the line between end of winter and beginning of spring. Since it also marks the end of the hockey season, which I’m discovering is a stressful time, I went for lavender because it’s a soothing smell and is supposed to promote relaxation.”
“Might have to hit the store tomorrow for some lavender candles because you’re right, this month is a killer.”
Once she finished lighting her candles, they returned to the couch, and he tucked them back under the blanket. This time, he didn’t bother with personal space, wrapping his arm around her and holding her close.
McKenna stiffened briefly, then—thank God for lavender—she relaxed against him, even going so far as to rest her head on his shoulder.
The rain was still pouring outside, the storm raging. Tank wouldn’t mind a flood if it meant he could stay here with her, just like this.
“Why didn’t you go home for the holidays?” McKenna asked. “You’re from Buffalo, right?”
He nodded.
“That’s not a terrible drive, is it?” she asked.
“Little more than six hours. I didn’t bother because Christmas isn’t the same without my mom,” he said, shocking himself by admitting that aloud. He hadn’t talked about his mom since…
Tank sighed. Since her funeral.
It hurt too much.
However, now, as he sat in McKenna’s cozy living room, he was reminded of his mother, who was also a fan of candles and fleece blankets, and who decorated their entire home with framed family photographs.
He realized none of those things were that unusual, but it had been a long time since he’d hung out in a living room that wasn’t his own, which was sparsely decorated and, yes, a pigsty.
Or in a friend’s, which was always filled with other people, all playing games or watching sports on TV.
McKenna turned, her face close to his, her gaze filled with empathy. “She made the holidays nice?”
He smiled sadly. “The best. She loved to bake, so the house always smelled like bread or sugar cookies or turkey. She decorated every inch of the place, the couch covered in at least a dozen holiday pillows, mistletoe hanging in every doorway, and lights strung pretty much everywhere. She started playing Christmas music in November and kept it rolling right through the New Year.”
“Oh my God,” McKenna exclaimed. “That sounds incredible.”
“She also broke the bank on gifts because she had a memory like a steel trap. I could mention liking or wanting or needing something in February, and I swear the next Christmas, it was wrapped and under the tree. It took us ages to open all the gifts on Christmas morning.”
Tank chuckled, recalling the mountain of presents that always awaited him and his dad when they came downstairs Christmas morning.
Then, he recalled with a bit of guilt how small Mom’s pile had always been in comparison.
Not that she ever complained. She always swore she preferred seeing them open gifts over receiving anything for herself.
“God,” he breathed. “I haven’t thought about all this since…” Tank waited for the pain that accompanied any memory of his mother to strike. Strangely, it didn’t. Instead, it felt nice to talk about her. “She was the best mom in the world.”
McKenna reached out and grasped his hand, squeezing it. She didn’t say anything. Her smile and kind eyes were enough.
“How about your holidays?” he asked. “Crazy like ours or low-key?”
“Low-key,” McKenna replied. “But still fun. It was just me and my mom, so we didn’t fool with cooking a big dinner.
We went out every year to a Chinese restaurant.
My mom loves the movie A Christmas Story, so she adopted that tradition when I was in elementary school.
We always went to the same restaurant, and the family that ran it, the Changs, got to know us.
By the time I was in high school, it felt like we were going to a relative’s house for the holiday meal.
We even started taking them gifts, and Mrs. Chang always sent us home with a tin of her almond cookies.
Mom and I used to fight over them, they were so good. ”
“Sounds like fun.”