36. Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Six
Jordan
“Three whole dayssss,” Makkin sings from his Little Tykes chair beside me as he flies his tiny stuffed dinosaurs through the air with the occasional blown raspberry. “Daddy and Unckie. Uncle Broby and Uncle Finnnnnny.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and glance down at the little guy. “Are you excited?”
“ Today ,” he screeches and makes his dinos ram into each other. “ I’m so happy ! Aren’t you?”
Happy?
The word is a foreign concept that tickles my subconscious and teases too many what ifs in a world full of unknowns. It also most likely includes a whole lot of not spending way too long pretending.
Acting as if I wasn’t waiting for every message I sent Mac to bounce back, to tell me my number’s been blocked.
Or worse .
I kept on as if nothing had happened. That I wasn’t there that night that Dare came out on stage. I knew from all the social media coverage. Cringed at all the comments asking about Mac’s real best friend .
That I hadn’t flown thousands of miles just to see him.
I don’t spend every moment I’m awake thinking about him. Wondering. Questioning if the shit online about him and Dare is real.
Hoping it’s not .
Wondering how the fuck I gave up the chance to be there with him.
Did he really replace me?
If I really was the cause of all the shit that kept him up at night. Peach tells me he’s gotten some help with that, some kind of meds that seem to help. That he’s better now. Though, I don’t know how much I believe it or if Peach is just protecting him.
Hell, maybe the bodyguard is protecting me, too.
Dragging in a deep breath through my nose, I force a nod for the kid who goes back to slamming his dinosaurs together.
But then he throws them on the floor, clamors to a stand on his chair, and fists my shirt.
His eyes are wide and bright and remind me so much of his precious unckie that my chest clenches.
“Don’t you love my Unckie?”
That familiar stabbing in the center of my chest kicks in.
“Of course I do,” I answer, and my breath catches at the way it spills from my mouth so easily.
Do I?
Of … course I do. Care about him. Adore him. Admire him. Miss him.
He’s the closest person to me since I was younger. My best friend. The only person I’ve let in since my parents—
I clear my throat.
How do I explain that to a kid?
That feelings are complicated, and the admission is even more so.
That I do have love for Mac?
But can I be in love with him?
Is there even a difference when it comes to him?
Would he fucking believe me if I did?
Makkin makes a grunting noise, then stretches up to flatten his little palms against my cheeks, squishing my face so that all I see is him.
Just like his mother does to them.
Then, in the most serious tone I’ve ever heard from a kid, he asks “Why I never see you kiss him?”
My stomach drops.
“Mommy says a-dults who love each other kiss. How else will Unckie know you love him if you don’t?”
I blink, my throat too tight to answer.
Because it doesn’t matter to Makkin that his uncle and I are the same gender. Or that I’ve been stuck in some endless questioning loop of somehow not straight with no answer to what that actually means. That I’ve spent my whole life assuming I’d never—
But then there was Mac.
Blowing out a breath I nod and force a small placating smile for the kid. “That’s all I gotta do?”
“Uh-huh! Easy.”
I wish.