Chapter 12
TWELVE
Iwake up earlier than I have in a long time, shower, dress, and watch the clock for when I need to leave. My knee bounces restlessly. I tell myself it’s because I hate when people are late and I don’t want Mackie to worry about work or be upset.
That’s all.
Checking my watch again, I chew on my bottom lip before thrusting to my feet and grabbing my keys.
I can pick up food for us on the way, and that’s the only reason I leave so early.
I’m not sure what his favorite breakfast is, but I phone in an order and swing by before lingering outside his apartment.
I’m still twenty minutes early, so I lean back in my seat, sipping my coffee as I wait, but five minutes later, I see him appear at the entrance to the building.
His hair is perfectly styled, catching the light, and his oversized racing jacket dwarfs him in an attractive way as he looks around before shoving some sunglasses on and pulling his phone out.
I watch him for a moment as he glances at it and then scans his surroundings, disappointment etched in his expression.
Adorable.
Smiling to myself, I climb from my car. “Mackie,” I call, drawing his attention, and his lips curve in a wide smile when he sees me.
He hurries over, almost running. I walk around and open his door, and Mackie climbs in, shoving a bag in the back as I shut his door and head over to mine.
Once I’m back in the car, I reach over and fasten his seat belt, feeling the warmth of his body and smelling his cologne.
“You smell good today,” I say before I freeze, my eyes widening as I glance at him.
“I mean, I bet you do every day. The cologne you’re wearing . . . I meant—”
His laughter makes me smile shyly. “Thanks. What’s this?” He nods at the bag on the dash.
“Oh, I got you some breakfast. I wasn’t sure what you wanted, but I figured there would be something in there you could eat while I drive,” I reply.
He shoves his glasses up for a moment and stares at me, and then he swings his gaze to the bag. “You bought me . . . breakfast?”
The way he says it has me shifting awkwardly. “Um, yes? Is that okay?”
He turns his head to look at me again, and a wide smile spreads across his face, the sunlight making him so beautiful and bright, it steals all my senses.
“More than okay. Thank you, Conan.” He grabs the bag and starts to look through the contents, but I’m still staring, and he must notice because he blinks up at me. “Everything okay?”
“Oh, yes, sorry.” Coughing awkwardly, I turn on the engine and focus on the road, my grip tight on the wheel as we drive toward his work.
“You said you had a shoot today. Tell me about it,” he inquires, all while shoving fruit in his mouth until his cheeks puff out. I don’t dare tell him how adorable it makes him look, and I bite back my smile.
“Oh, it’s not very interesting,” I say, and when I glance over, he’s watching me with an arched brow. “What is it?”
“It’s your job, isn’t it? You clearly love it, so tell me about it,” he insists, and I’m helpless not to give him something he wants.
“It’s for a designer. I had an idea to show their brand and style through the ages, so we are starting from the fifties—” I launch into detail, probably sharing too much.
When I’m done, I snap my mouth closed, realizing I’ve been talking for a solid ten minutes straight, but he’s just munching on pastries and happily listening.
“That sounds super interesting. Which decade are you looking forward to the most?” he asks, and I’m shocked by how intently he was listening.
“The eighties,” I admit shyly. “I could show them to you when it’s done,” I offer, shooting him an unsure look.
“I’d like that.” He smiles brightly. “Your images are incredible. You’re really talented, but it’s more than that. I get a sense of who you’re shooting. You captured Skylar and the rest of us so well. You were made to be a photographer.”
“You think so?” I ask.
He nods, humming around a mouthful. “I think there are certain people who are just born to be certain things. Most people would say they make it part of their identity, but they probably haven’t ever felt that passion or drive.
One of my friends is an author, and he always describes it like that as well.
I feel the same way, and I think you do too.
We work and practice our talent, but maybe some souls are born with a purpose. I think so anyway.”
“That’s a beautiful way of looking at it,” I admit. “You’re right. When people ask me about myself, I introduce myself as a photographer. It’s become who I am. It filters into every facet of my life. Most people don’t get that. They think it’s just a job, but it’s more than that—”
“It’s a life.” He nods. “It’s who you are, almost a religion.” We share an understanding smile as I turn onto the road for his work, wishing the drive were longer.
He continues to eat, and it makes me happy to see him trying everything I bought. I make a note of his favorites for next time.
We just pull into the lot by Starfire as he shoves the last frosted pastry into his mouth, chewing it as he packs everything else in the bag.
I chuckle.
“What?” he asks as he swallows.
Swiping my thumb across his mouth, I show him the sugar from the pastry, which was smeared across his lips. “Messy, like a kid,” I tease as I lean back, sucking my thumb into my mouth as he stares at me with big, round eyes before he shakes his head.
“Hey, I thought we decided on baby,” he teases, making my smile grow.
“That we did.” I nod. “Very sorry. Be a good baby for Daddy today.” The words just slip out, meant to be a joke, but they fall into the now silent car.
Both of us freeze, and tension mounts with each silent second.
I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps, his lips parting, when a knock at his window causes both of us to jump.
Whirling around, he peers through the glass as Noah leans into it, his face cold as he glances from me to Mackie. “You’re late. Hurry up,” he snaps before stomping away. We watch him go, and he turns at the garage door, crossing his arms as he glares at us, waiting for Mackie.
That did the trick, though, because the tension is gone as Mackie turns to me, smiling through a wince. “I better get going. Thank you for the lift and the food. There’s some left. I’ll leave it here,” he says.
“Take it,” I tell him. “I don’t really eat breakfast anyway. You might get hungry in a bit.”
Clutching the bag to his chest, Mackie gives me another wide, crooked smile. “Thank you, Conan.” He opens his door and climbs out before leaning back in. “We’ll talk later?” It’s a question, so I lean over to see him.
“Definitely,” I promise.
“Have a good shoot. Remember to eat dinner.” He leaves, hurrying to Noah, who continues to glare at him. Mackie ducks past him and waves at me before disappearing, and I meet Noah’s narrowed eyes before he stalks inside as well, slamming the door shut behind him.
Sighing, I put the car in gear and head to work, but not even Noah’s sour mood can ruin my happiness from starting my day with Mackie.
I’ve been super busy since I was with Mackie yesterday.
The shoot took way longer than we expected and even ran into the night.
Today, I’m editing all day and pushing my limits, but I don’t want Mackie to assume I’m not thinking of him.
We’ve texted a few times, but he senses I’m busy and doesn’t want to bother me.
I find myself missing his chatter though.
I contemplate on how I can show him I’m still thinking of him before it hits me.
Grabbing my phone, I spin in my desk chair to face the window and Google some recipes, then I buy everything I need, choosing to have them delivered to his place when he’ll be back from work, then I lose myself in editing again before my phone vibrates hours later.
Mackie: Did you send these?
A picture comes through of a bunch of grocery bags, and I grin as I stretch out and type a message.
Conan: I figured you could try your new baking stuff when you have a moment since I can’t keep you company right now.
Mackie: Is this your way of demanding baked goods?
Conan: Maybe.
Conan: But I remembered you said you enjoy it.
Mackie: I do. Thank you. I think I might try using my new kitchen stuff tonight after I’ve eaten. How’s work going?
Conan: Long and tiring. There is a lot to edit, and my shoulders are killing me.
A little emoji pops up from him.
Mackie: Make sure to take breaks and stretch your body. You’re old, remember? ;)
Conan: Naughty, just because you’re a baby.
Mackie: Exactly. Okay, I’ll let you get back to work. Talk in a bit.
I wait in case he sends anything else before putting my phone down and focusing on my screen, but then I remember what he said, and despite my usual methods of working, I stand and walk around my office. I stretch and drink some water before I return to work.
It’s dark by the time my phone vibrates again, and I scramble to pick it up, nearly dropping it in the process.
There’s no text, just an image, and my eyes widen as I open it.
He’s in a frilly apron we picked up and holding a plate of chunky chocolate chip cookies that look incredible.
There’s flour on his cheek, and his hair is tied up on top of his head.
He’s smiling widely, and I stare at the picture far longer than I should before saving it.
Conan: They look incredible. I want to taste.
Mackie: Me or the cookies?
I curl my lips in to hold back a nervous chuckle as I open the picture again, running my eyes over his face. Something long dead returns to life in me, brought by him—happiness, desire, and envy. I’ve been feeling it since I met him. It’s confusing and consuming, but I’m obsessed with feeling more.
Conan: Both.
I admit it freely, knowing it’s true. Guilt assaults me for a moment before I push it away. I won’t let anything ruin this.
I take a deep breath and gather my courage, feeling like a nervous teen.
Conan: Next time, let’s bake together.
Mackie: It’s a date.
I stare at those three words for what feels like hours, my heart hammering in my chest. I want it.
I want it to be a date. I never went into this with the idea of dating Mackie, I just wanted to repay my debt, yet everything is getting messy.
I worry that when he finds out, he will push me away and take all the sunlight with him again.