Chapter 44
CHAPTER 44
MACKENZIE
H ow can Creed be so calm? He hasn’t so much as said a word or broken a sweat on our drive to see Gabriella and her family today.
“What if she hates me, again?”
He sighs, “She never hated you in the first place.”
“What if having us in her life just makes things complicated, you know?”
“Then we uncomplicate it.”
I slap his arm. “You are not helping right now.”
Creed lets out a soft chuckle, glancing over at me with that damn smirk of his. “I’m just saying. We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”
I stare out the window, watching the passing trees blur into a stream of green, my thoughts still racing. “I don’t know, Creed. I’ve made so many mistakes. What if I mess this up, too?”
He takes my hand in his, his fingers brushing mine before intertwining with them. The warmth of his touch is grounding, a silent reassurance that no matter how much my mind spirals, he’s here. “We’re in this together. No more second-guessing, okay?”
I glance at him, the intensity in his eyes making my breath catch in my throat. How does he always know the right thing to say? How does he remain so... steady?
“But I don’t know what I’m doing.” The vulnerability slips out before I can stop it.
“Neither do I,” he says with a half-smile, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. “But I know we’ll figure it out. I’m not going anywhere, little demon. Not this time.”
I’m quiet for a moment, the reality of what we’re about to do weighing heavily on me. Meeting Gabriella again after everything that’s happened. After everything I’ve done. “I just hope she can forgive me. I hope I can be the kind of mother she needs me to be.”
“You’re stronger than you think,” Creed murmurs, his voice low and soothing, like he’s trying to reassure both of us at once. “And you don’t have to be perfect. Just show up. That’s enough.”
We turn the corner onto the street where Gabriella lives, and my heart beats louder, and faster. The house is just ahead, the porch light warm and inviting. But the closer we get, the more my nerves start to fray.
As we pull into the driveway, Creed turns the car off but doesn’t immediately get out. Instead, he looks at me, his gaze softening. “You’ve got this, Mackenzie.”
I take a deep breath, nodding even though my chest feels tight. “Yeah. I hope so.”
I reach for the door handle, but before I can open it, Creed’s hand stops me. He leans over, his lips brushing against my temple in a quiet, almost reverent kiss.
“You’re not alone,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Remember that.”
I close my eyes for a moment, feeling his words sink into me. Maybe I don’t have to have all the answers right now. Maybe just being there is enough.
When I open my eyes again, Creed is already out of the car, moving around to my side to open the door for me. His hand is there, waiting for mine, and I take it without hesitation.
We walk up to the front door together, and I’m suddenly hyper-aware of every step, of how my heart is thudding in my chest, of how much I want this to go well. How badly I need this to be the moment where things start to heal. I’m not that selfish teenager I used to be, I want something else. Something more. Something not even St. Jude’s can give me.
Creed knocks, his hand firm on the door. The seconds stretch on, unbearable, before the door swings open to reveal Gabriella standing there, looking a little more grown-up, but still absolutely perfect. I know it’s only been three months, but I swear she’s a head taller.
“Hi,” she says, her voice small, hesitant. “You’re here.”
My heart stutters at her words, and I can feel the weight of everything we’ve been through hanging in the air between us. “I’m here,” I say, my voice catching. “Thanks for inviting us.”
Gabriella’s eyes search mine, and for a moment, it feels like everything goes quiet—the world around us fades, leaving just the two of us standing there.
Then she takes a step forward, her gaze softening, and the tension in my chest loosens just a fraction.
“I’m so happy to see you, Mackenzie,” she says quietly, almost like she’s testing the words on her tongue.
And just like that, something in my chest cracks open. “I am so happy to see you too, Gabriella,” I say, my voice thick with emotion.
Before I can say anything else, she wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a hug that feels like coming home.
Creed’s hand brushes mine as he steps back, giving us space. And in this moment, I realize he’s right: maybe it’s not about being perfect. Maybe it’s about showing up, about proving that I’m here, that I’m ready to try. And maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something new.
Mia joins us, “Please come in,” she says, her voice warm.
Michael steps into view. His face is slightly flushed, but there's something about the way he stands—stronger, more grounded—that tells me he's healing. He gives me a soft, genuine smile.
I step inside, my nerves still simmering just below the surface but grateful that Mia and Michael are so kind and inviting.
“Thanks,” I say, my voice a little rough. Creed’s hand brushes against mine as we walk into the house. Gabriella steps aside, giving us space, but I notice the way she’s still looking at me—curious, cautious, like she’s waiting for something.
“Dinner will be ready in a few,” Mia says, her tone kind but matter-of-fact, like she’s trying to create normalcy. “Would you like something to drink?”
I nod my head. "Some lemonade, thanks."
We settle into the living room, the atmosphere a little more relaxed than I expected. Michael moves to the couch, gesturing for me and Creed to sit. He offers Creed a beer.
Gabriella takes a seat across from us, her fingers nervously twisting in her lap. The silence stretches for a moment, but it’s not uncomfortable. It feels like we’re all just waiting for the right thing to say.
“So,” Mia starts, walking in with lemonade for the three of us. “Gabriella’s been telling us about her art show. Would you like to tell Mackenzie and Creed about it?” Her voice is warm, encouraging, and I can see the bond she has with my daughter. It’s a little bittersweet, but I swallow it down, reminding myself that Gabriella is one of the lucky ones, she has a loving family who supports her.
Gabriella’s face lights up a little at the question. “I’ve been working on a few pieces for my portfolio and the winner gets to have their work displayed in the Art Institute in Chicago.” She says it all so confidently, but I catch the slight tremor in her hands. It’s small, but I notice it.
“That sounds amazing,” I say, my voice soft but filled with pride. My heart stirs a little, a combination of awe and regret. I wish I was the one supporting her through all of this, the one watching her grow into the amazing young woman she’s sure to become.
Creed shifts beside me, his hand resting on the back of my chair. I’m grateful for his quiet presence, even though I know he’s probably just as uncertain as I am. “What kind of art do you do, Gabriella?” I ask.
Gabriella hesitates for a second, her gaze dropping to her hands before she looks up at him. “Mostly landscapes, but I’ve only been doing it for two years and have so much to learn.” She smiles, almost embarrassed. “But I’d love to do portraits, too.”
I can’t help the small, proud smile that curves my lips. “I bet you’ll be great at whatever you do.”
Gabriella looks up at me, her expression softening. “You think so?”
I nod, my gaze holding hers. “I know so.”
Mia stands. “Let me check on dinner while you two catch up.”
“Do you draw?’ Mia asks.
I smile. “I actually do. I did a bit of graphic art for a while, but I got busy with other things.” I haven’t told anyone that. Not even my best friends. It was just something I did to pass the time. At one point I thought I was actually pretty good at it, but in my world, things don’t always go to plan.
Mia calls that dinner is ready and we all follow Michael to the dining room. We sit around the table, I realize how much I’ve missed this—the simple act of sitting down with family, sharing a meal. The only time I ever did was at Flynn’s when we were teenagers.
As we dig into the food, conversation flows freely. We talk about Gabriella’s upcoming projects for school, about art and their work. I opted for “import and export business” when asked what I do. Michael and Mia share stories about Gabriella’s antics growing up, and I find myself laughing for the first time in what feels like forever.
Even though there’s so much left unsaid, so much to work through, for this moment, it feels like we’re finding our way back to each other.
Creed, quiet as always, listens more than he speaks, but there’s a warmth in his gaze whenever he looks at me. It’s a reminder that, despite the chaos we’ve lived through, we’re here now. And somehow, that’s enough.
After dinner, we move back to the living room. Gabriella picks up a book from the coffee table, her fingers brushing the pages absentmindedly. She’s silent for a while, then looks up at me. “I’ve been thinking about... maybe showing you my art sometime. When I’m ready,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
My heart skips in my chest, but I smile softly. “Whenever you’re ready, Gabriella. I’ll be here.”
Creed gives me a quiet, understanding glance, and I feel a little lighter.
I look over at Mia who is giving me a nod of encouragement. “Speaking of being ready. I’ve been talking to your mom and dad and when you feel up to it, Creed and I would like to make these visits a regular thing and maybe you can come to visit me sometimes – if you’d like,” I add the last part, nerves on high alert.
Gabriella’s eyes widen, and for a moment, she just stares at me as though trying to decipher whether I’m being serious. The quiet of the room seems to stretch, and I feel the weight of her uncertainty, her hesitation. I know this is a big step, one that could either bring us closer or pull us further apart, but I can’t help the hope rising in my chest.
“Really, Mom, you wouldn’t mind that?” Gabriella asks Mia.
Mia’s nod is steady, comforting, her smile soft and sincere. “We would love for you to get to know your biological family, Gaby,” she says, her voice warm with unconditional support. They really were the perfect family for my baby.
Gabriella bites her lip, clearly weighing the idea. She looks back and forth between me and Creed, her gaze lingering on him for a second longer than usual, before finally letting out a small, almost imperceptible sigh.
“I... I don’t know what to say,” Gabriella murmurs, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. “This is a lot to take in. But... I think I’d like that. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
The vulnerability in her voice causes a small ache in my chest. This isn’t just about me and Creed anymore—it’s about Gabriella finding her place in all of this, and I don’t want to push her too hard.
“I get it,” Creed says gently, leaning forward, his voice soft but steady. “We’re not rushing anything, Gaby. Take your time. This is your decision, and we’ll respect whatever you decide. But whenever you’re ready, we’re here.”
“Thanks,” she says softly. “I’m not sure how all of this works yet, but... I’ll try. I really will. I just need time.”
“Take all the time you need,” Creed says kindly. “We’re not going anywhere.”
Mia stands and moves toward the kitchen, and I take the opportunity to reach over, placing my hand gently on Gabriella’s. She looks up at me, and there’s something in her eyes—something that tells me she’s not ready to call this a new beginning, but she’s willing to try.
“I’ll be here,” I tell her softly. “And so will Creed. Whatever you need.”
Her lips tremble slightly as she nods, and for a split second, I see something like relief in her eyes. It’s fleeting, but it’s enough.
Mia calls from the kitchen, “I’ll get dessert started.”
Gabriella looks down at her hands again, her fingers still twisting, but I don’t mind. It’s a sign of her thinking, processing, not quite ready to say everything, but still open to what could come.
As the night goes on, we settle into a comfortable rhythm, and I realize that I will take this messy family dynamic over anything I ever had with my own family growing up.