Chapter 14
Fourteen
Delaney
The bell above the bookshop door chimes as Maya pushes through, carrying two paper bags from Millbrook Café and wearing an expression that suggests she's ready for gossip.
I'm sitting cross-legged on the floor behind the counter, sorting through a shipment of holiday romances that arrived this morning, but I abandon the task the moment I smell whatever deliciousness she's brought.
"Please tell me one of those contains actual food and not just your usual black coffee and judgment," I say, pushing myself up from the hardwood floor and dusting off my jeans.
"Turkey club and sweet potato soup," Maya announces, settling the bags on the counter with a flourish. "Because I figured you'd need comfort food after whatever drama went down at your parents’ house yesterday."
I pause in the middle of reaching for the food, my hand suspended mid-air. "How could you possibly know there was drama?"
Maya raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow and pulls her phone from her purse, waving it at me like evidence in a trial.
"Because Mrs. Henderson's neighbor texted her daughter, who texted my hairdresser, who texted me at seven this morning with a very detailed account of Mac Sullivan getting territorial over you in front of your ex-fiancé. "
"Oh my God." I drop my face into my hands, feeling heat creep up my neck. "The whole town knows?"
"Delaney, the whole town knew before dessert was served. We just wanted to give you time to recover." Maya unwraps her sandwich with practiced efficiency, taking a bite before continuing. "Now spill. I want details. All of them."
I grab my soup container and lean against the counter, stirring the orange liquid while trying to figure out where to start.
The bookshop feels cozy and safe with the afternoon light filtering through the front windows, casting everything in a warm glow that makes the conversation feel less mortifying.
"It wasn't supposed to be a big deal," I begin, then immediately shake my head. "Actually, that's a lie. I knew it was going to be awkward the moment my mom mentioned that Brad was coming."
"And yet you didn't warn your fake boyfriend that your real ex would be there?" Maya's tone is accusatory, but there's amusement dancing in her dark eyes.
"Mac isn't my fake boyfriend anymore," I protest, then catch myself. "I mean, technically he still is, but it's… complicated."
"Complicated? Seems easy to me. Did you or did you not make out with him in your childhood backyard last night?"
I nearly choke on my soup. "How did you—never mind, I don't want to know." I take a steadying breath and meet her expectant gaze. "Fine. Yes, we've kissed. But we haven't talked about what it means."
"Because you're both emotionally stunted," Maya says matter-of-factly, unwrapping a pickle from her sandwich. "Continue with the Thanksgiving drama."
I settle onto the stool behind the register, tucking one leg underneath me.
"We had a rocky start, but everything was fine after that.
Mac was actually being charming, helping my mom in the kitchen, complimenting her stuffing.
Even when Brad started with his antics, Mac was stern but respectful, and kept being polite. "
"Uh oh. I know that tone. That's your 'but then everything went to hell' tone."
"But then everything went to hell," I confirm, unable to suppress a small smile despite the mortification. "Brad started doing that thing he does, you know? Where he acts like he's just being friendly, but really he's marking his territory. And for some reason, he thinks I'm his territory."
Maya leans forward, resting her elbows on the counter. "What kind of territory marking are we talking about here?"
"The subtle kind. Sitting across from Mac at dinner, bringing up memories from when we were together, asking about my 'little bookshop' in that condescending way that makes it sound like a hobby instead of a business.
" I stir my soup more aggressively than necessary.
"And Mac just sat there politely, getting quieter and quieter, until I could practically feel the tension radiating off him. "
"Please tell me it gets better."
"Oh, it gets so much better." I take a sip of soup, savoring both the warmth and Maya's rapt attention.
"They went back and forth a bit during dinner.
Then, after, Brad cornered me in the kitchen while I was helping with dishes.
Started going on about how he's been thinking about us, about how maybe he made a mistake choosing his job in New York over our relationship. "
Maya's sandwich pauses halfway to her mouth. "He did not."
"He absolutely did. And then–" I pause for dramatic effect. "He tried to kiss me."
"No."
"Yes. Right there next to my mom's good china." I can't help but grin at the memory. "Except Mac walked in at exactly that moment, and Maya, I have never seen anything like what happened to his face."
"Describe it. In detail. Leave nothing out."
I set down my soup and lean forward, warming to the story.
"You know how Mac usually looks sort of controlled?
Even when he's angry or upset, there's this careful restraint about him.
Well, that disappeared completely. His whole body went rigid, and his hands actually clenched into fists at his sides. "
"What did he say?"
"That's the thing. He didn't say anything at first. He just walked over, very deliberately, and positioned himself between Brad and me.
Like, literally stepped between us." I demonstrate with my hands, showing the positioning.
"And then he said, in this voice that was so calm it was terrifying, 'Is there a problem here? '"
Maya makes a small sound of appreciation. "Hockey players know how to be intimidating."
"Brad tried to play it off, said he was just catching up with an old friend.
And Mac, still in that deadly calm voice, said, 'Delaney isn't available for catching up.
She's with me'." I can feel my cheeks heating up again at the memory.
"The way he said 'with me'—like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "
"I'm swooning and I wasn't even there."
"It gets worse. Or better, depending on your perspective." I take another spoonful of soup, trying to calm my racing pulse. "Brad, being Brad, couldn't leave it alone. He said something about how Mac shouldn't worry about competition from people who actually know me."
Maya's eyes widen. "Oh, no, he didn't."
"He did. And Mac's response was to put his hand on my lower back—you know, that possessive thing guys do—and say, 'I know everything I need to know about Delaney. Including the fact that she deserves better than someone who walked away from her once already.'"
"Stop. I cannot handle this level of protective alpha male behavior." Maya fans herself dramatically with a napkin. "What happened next?"
"My mom chose that moment to walk into the kitchen asking about dessert, took one look at the testosterone standoff happening by her sink, and announced very loudly that she needed help carrying pies to the dining room.
" I laugh at the memory. "Mac immediately stepped forward to help her, but not before giving Brad one last look that clearly said: This conversation is over. "
"And how did Brad take that?"
"About as well as you'd expect. He left right after dessert, claiming he had to drive back to New York for work.
" I wrap my hands around the warm soup container.
"But Maya, the way Mac acted for the rest of the evening—he kept finding reasons to touch me.
A hand on my shoulder when he passed behind my chair, sitting close enough that our thighs touched, walking me to my car with his arm around my waist."
Maya is quiet for a moment, studying my face with the intensity she usually reserves for investigative journalism. "And how did that make you feel?"
"Confused," I admit, looking down at my soup. "Because on one hand, it was incredibly hot watching him defend me like that. Like, really, really hot. But on the other hand, we haven't actually talked about what we are to each other. For all I know, he was just playing the part we agreed on."
"Delaney." Maya's voice is gentle but firm. "No man gets that possessive over someone he's just pretending to date. What you're describing isn't acting—it's claiming."
"You think?"
"I think Mac Sullivan is head over heels for you and doesn't know how to process it, so he's defaulting to caveman behavior." She takes another bite of her sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. "The question is, what are you going to do about it?"
I'm saved from answering by the shop bell chiming again. We both look toward the door, and I drop my spoon when I realize it's a group of customers.
“We'll continue this later,” I mumble to Maya, who nods her head with a look that says she will absolutely not be letting me forget it.