Chapter 12 Mac
12
MAC
PRESENT DAY
Istared into Penny’s eyes, searching for something—anything—but the sparkle that had once lived there was gone.
Her features were flat, distant, like she was reliving that moment all over again, feeling every ounce of betrayal, every shred of heartbreak.
That morning, when I’d come back… she was already gone.
She’d left in a hurry, so fast that the ghost of her still lingered. Her shampoo was still sitting in my bathroom, her clothes tucked neatly in my top drawer. As if she’d vanished, as if this world we’d built in the shadows had never really existed at all.
I hadn’t had the courage to get rid of any of it, either.
I’d walked in, arms full of food, a stupidly big smile on my face, expecting to see my girl bare-legged, wrapped in my clothes while she waited for me to come back. Instead, I was met with an empty apartment.
Then, I saw it.
The yellow envelope, ripped open on my dining room table.
The second my eyes scanned the words, realization crashed into me, all-consuming and suffocating. Even now, months later, I felt that same searing panic—the kind that clawed through my chest and made it hard to breathe.
Before Penny, I didn’t care about much. I was easygoing, letting life roll off my back, never letting anything stick to me. But after that morning? I barely recognized myself. I’d been drowning in guilt and regret since.
I’d spent the time avoiding everything, thinking she would come around and all would fall back into what it was. I was stupid to think a woman like her would ever settle.
Coming here tonight was my last shot. My final attempt before I let us slip through my fingers for good.
I should’ve chased after her the second I saw those papers. Should’ve barged in, told her everything, made it crystal clear. But I didn’t.
I played the coward.
I convinced myself she would come back to me. Then… time passed, and it felt too late.
Days. Weeks. It never got better, in fact, the more I watched her from a distance, the worse it felt.
Sitting at Penny’s table for hours now, I watched as she did everything in her power to ignore me. I asked her about work. I apologized too many times to count.
I wasn’t leaving until we worked something out.
Still, we sat.
At some point, Penny got up and grabbed a snack, didn’t ask if I wanted anything, which I didn’t expect her to. The clock crept past midnight, and she flipped through the pages of her book, snacking as if I weren’t sitting right there, waiting—pleading—for some kind of opening.
I stared at her, watching every little movement, every blink, every flick of her fingers against the pages.
Then, to my surprise, she spoke first.
Closing her book, she wiped her hands on her pants and leveled me with a look.
“Why did you get married?”
The question hit like a sucker punch. My breath stalled, my mind reeled. But I caught myself, masking my reaction.
She was curious.
That was a good sign.
I swallowed hard, my voice steady but low. “When my dad got sick, I left. Moved to Vegas for a while.” I hesitated, running a hand down my jaw. “I needed a break from… everything. Mostly the pressure I knew I’d be under. I don’t know if it was the right choice, but—”
“What pressure?” Penny asked.
I exhaled, dragging my fingers through my hair. “With his diagnosis, I assumed the bar would be mine when he died. I’d already been running most of it, but it was still his. Still his responsibility. But with him gone, it would all be mine.”
I ran from the weight of knowing that. I knew that if shit went south, it would be me left to deal with the debris. I was immature, and instead of growing up, I decided to bolt.
Penny nodded, her expression unreadable.
“So, how did Mimi happen?”
I leaned back, rubbing a hand over my face. “I worked at a bar on the Strip. It was loud, busy, nothing like Faircloud. It was easy—not a single thought about home. Mimi worked there, too. She also ran from something in her hometown. We spent most of our shifts together, talking about our experiences. We got close, became friends.”
Penny’s eyes were locked onto mine.
I took a breath and forced myself to continue.
“One night, we got too drunk, and in true dumbass fashion, we thought it’d be funny to run off and get married by Elvis. We’d seen so many couples come in and do it that we figured, why not?” I shook my head, letting out a humorless laugh. “Sober me could’ve answered that question. But insanely drunk, younger me? Not a damn chance. It was a joke. A stupid, reckless joke.”
The truth was, I hadn’t even realized it was real at the time. I thought it was just some Vegas bit, something fake for the tourists. I had no clue a fake Elvis actually had the legal power to marry someone.
Dumb.
I was so damn dumb.
Penny didn’t flinch. Didn’t react. Just studied me.
“Why did she show up that day?”
“She wanted to actually get married. Went to file the paperwork, and turns out, she already was.” I dragged a hand down my face, feeling the exhaustion deep in my bones. “I swear, I didn’t even know it was legally binding until she showed up.”
Silence stretched between us.
Penny sat still, her hands pressed together in her lap, her lips barely parted.
I ran a hand through my hair, the weight of it all settling on my chest.
When I came home, I lived for years without knowing what had really happened in Vegas. Dad got better—sort of—and stubbornly hung on, living much longer than the doctors predicted. That damn old bastard never gave up.
He didn’t know I’d gotten married. He never knew the mess I’d created for myself, the mess that ended up costing me so much. Even in the end, he still left the bar to my sister.
“I can’t give you the bar, dumbass,” Lizzie had said earlier, and it finally made sense. She knew. It wasn’t just because I ran.
How she knew was a mystery I couldn’t solve, but I understood now.
Penny was silent, her gaze unfocused, drifting just past me. I couldn’t look away from her. I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her chest rose and fell with every breath, as if she were holding herself together by sheer force of will.
Her eyes flickered to mine, and my heart slammed in my chest.
“Did you love her?”
That four-word question was a punch to my gut, nearly knocking me off my chair.
Love?
Fuck no.
My face fell to a soft, vulnerable expression. “No. Nothing even close to that ever happened between us. I didn’t even know what it felt like to love someone before. Now I—”
She held up a hand and looked away from me, her throat bobbing as she swallowed.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Pen.” My voice cracked, the words getting caught in the tightness of my throat. “If I ever thought it would hurt you… I wouldn’t have done it. I swear, I wouldn’t have—”
I stopped, the weight of my mistakes crashing over me. I placed my hands on my face, the exhaustion of it all sinking deep into my bones. I had fucked this up. I had hurt her—ruined us—and I didn’t know if I could ever forgive myself, even if she found a way to forgive me.
I couldn’t even look at her anymore. I was a coward who had stayed silent for too long.
“I know…” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of everything she was feeling. “I know you feel bad, guilty, but that doesn’t change how hurt I am.”
I nodded, because honestly, it was all I could do.
“You broke my trust, Mac. Do you have any idea what it was like for me to open that door, wearing nothing but your shirt and a thong to see another woman standing there?” She tilted her head, her eyes searching mine, daring me to understand. “Put yourself in my position.”
“I—I can’t imagine.” The words felt hollow, inadequate against how she was feeling, but they were the only honest response I had.
“And then… to find out she was your wife?” Penny’s voice cracked, the last word drenched in venom.
Fuck.
My chest tightened, a sharp, unforgiving pressure that made it hard to breathe. The weight pressed down like a boulder, threatening to crush me from the inside out.
“You never once came to talk to me.” Her voice trembled slightly, but she held firm, unyielding. “You sent me a text a whole damn day later, like nothing happened.” She sucked in a sharp breath, her arms tightening around herself. “It made me feel… disposable. Like everything we shared for those months, everything I thought we were meant nothing.”
“That’s the farthest thing from the truth,” I rasped, my voice hoarse with desperation.
She studied me, her expression unreadable. Those chestnut eyes locked on mine with an intensity that told me she had already made up her mind.
“I know I was a coward,” I admitted, the words tasting bitter in my mouth. “I was stupid to pretend like everything was fine, that I didn’t know what was going on. But I didn’t know what to do. You left, and—”
Penny’s hands slammed down on the table.
The glass near her rattled, liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim.
I stilled, watching as she reached out and tapped the surface again, punctuating each word with a sharp, deliberate strike.
“I left because the thought of having to confront you, having to see your stupid face fucking destroyed me.”
The pain in her voice shredded through me, leaving nothing but raw, exposed nerves in its wake.
Without thinking, I reached for her, my fingers brushing against hers before settling gently over them. The contact sent a jolt through my system, dragging me back to the nights we’d spent tangled in each other, her skin beneath mine, her laughter filling this very apartment.
“Then tell me,” I whispered, leaning closer, needing her to feel the sincerity in every syllable. “Tell me what I have to do to make you believe me. Believe that everything we had meant something to me. Believe how fucking sorry I am.”
My hands trembled as I fully clasped hers, desperate for any connection, any small piece of her that I could still hold onto.
The past month had drained me, like my energy had been leeched by something else.
“I’ll do anything,” I vowed, my voice thick with emotion. “I’ll prove it. Just please, Penny. Give me a second chance.”
For a moment, she didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
Then, ever so slightly, her posture softened.
She leaned in, closing the space between us, her breath warm against my skin.
I could smell her—vanilla and spice, the scent that had been imprinted in my memory. It was ironic how she smelled like vanilla, because she was anything but.
Her eyes glistened, whether from exhaustion or the weight of everything between us, I couldn’t tell.
Every muscle in my body ached to reach out, to cup her face and wipe away the tears that threatened to spill.
Instead, I closed my eyes for a fleeting second, breathing her in, savoring the nearness, the sliver of hope that still lingered in the air.
I wanted this. Her.
I was shit at using words, but I needed to find the right ones now.
“Tell me…” My voice barely broke the space between us. My eyes searched hers, pleading, willing her to let me in.
Something flickered across her face—a shadow of something softer, something real—before she sat back, crossing her arms over her chest.
I recoiled slightly, left grasping at the empty space.
“I’ll give you one chance,” she said, holding up a single finger.
“That’s all I need,” I replied confidently. I’d done enough thinking and ruminating to know that I was capable of proving myself.
With a sharp sniffle, Penny nodded, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her crew neck. Then there was a hint of a smile, like she was thinking of the perfect plot, the perfect punishment.
The smile wasn’t sweet or forgiving; it was devious.
“You better learn to grovel, bitch.”
Beneath the bite, I felt it—a crack in the armor. A small opening, a chance she hadn’t slammed the door shut completely.
She was hurt. Scorned.
But she wasn’t walking away.
A slow, determined smirk tugged at my lips as I leaned in, resting my forearms on the table.
“I’d move fucking mountains,” I swore, my voice dropping low, rough with conviction. “Walk barefoot across hot coals. Brand my skin with your initials, Penny.” My fingers curled into fists. “You have no idea how goddamn determined I am.”
A spark flickered behind her eyes, something unreadable, something that felt an awful lot like intrigue.
The fire inside me ignited, adrenaline pumping hot through my veins.
Game on.