11. Jake #2
“You’re thinking what I’m thinking,” I accuse, moving to get a glass of my own. I fill it with the rest of the sparkling water from the bottle she’s opened. There’s a whole line of them in the fridge, so I’m not claiming her beverage, just making sure we drink it while it’s fizzy.
“I doubt if I’m thinking anything half as blunt,” she says and I grin.
“You’re thinking that perfume suits Candace, she of the low-cut, clingy, leopard-print dresses, the heavy make-up, the plastic surgery, the sky-high fuck-me-now heels.”
“A little harsh about the shoes, don’t you think?”
I give her a look. “She can’t walk in them.”
Her smile is impish. “I never thought walking was the point of those kinds of shoes. She can pose in them.”
I shake my head, still fuming. “That woman.”
“Your step-mother.”
“There was never anything maternal about Candace, but in a way, that made it easier. Chances were pretty good that the four of us would hate whoever became our stepmom. That it was Candace meant it was a guilt-free choice.”
“Ouch.”
“Live with her for a week, then tell me that I’m wrong.”
“You haven’t lived with her in almost twenty years.”
“And that’s not an accident.” I cannot leave it there, even though I know I should. “My father got what he deserved, in my opinion, though. She can spend money like no one I’ve ever seen before.”
“That house is incredible.”
I nod. “I know. It has turrets. It has gold-plated faucets in the master bath.” I risk a glance at Mackenzie.
She’s fighting a smile. “Even better, they’re swans.
Two walk-in closets for her majesty. God knows how many pairs of shoes and how many trophy purses.
The amount of money she’s spent is staggering. ”
“It upsets you.”
“Yes!” In a way, it’s a relief to say it out loud.
“Why? Are you worried because he didn’t leave her enough to keep her in the style to which she’s become accustomed?”
“No one could leave that woman enough money to do that.”
“You’re pretty hard on her.”
I leave that right where it lands and Mackenzie lets it go. I finish the bottle of water.
“Where did Patrick meet her?” she asks. “She’s not from Empire.”
“She worked as a hostess at some bar here in Havelock. I don’t know which one.
” I take another deep breath, then open another bottle of water before wrapping up my impromptu lecture series.
I’ve already said way too much, but I can’t stop now.
At least I know Mackenzie won’t repeat it.
(How do I know that? I’ve no clue, but I trust her, and the reason for that is too dangerous to contemplate right now.) I top up her glass.
“What does a son learn from such a father? Maybe that ambition is a better compass than desire. Patrick pursued my mother for her connections and her money, and she made him a better wife than Candace, who apparently beguiled him then nearly bankrupted him. My mom pulled for the team, while Candace was, like my father, interested only in her own advantage.”
“There’s a lesson.”
“A cautionary tale in love, romance, and marriage,” I say, noting how she nods. “And there’s more. The son of such a man also learns to keep it zipped, to be moderate in his indulgences, to do his best to make sure he doesn’t leave any legacies behind to haunt him later.”
“Legacies like Luke.”
“Legacies like Luke.”
“Are you ever caught without a condom?” There’s no accusation in her tone, just curiosity.
“Never.” I don’t tell her about my vasectomy. In the first place, it’s none of Mackenzie’s business, and in the second, it seems extreme even to me, in hindsight. I’ve thought about getting it reversed, but there’s no real point.
“No line of little Cavendishes behind you, like breadcrumbs after a feast?” she asks, as if she smells my secret.
“Not behind me. My siblings can speak for themselves.”
She studies me. “You’re very sure.”
“I’m very careful.”
“I’ve noticed.” But she’s unconvinced, as if she’s guessed I’m not admitting everything. “But you will marry eventually and have kids, carry on the name, and continue the legacy, right?” she asks lightly and I’m glad she’s changed the subject. “Just waiting for the right girl?”
“There is no right girl. I’ll never marry or have kids. We talked about that last night.”
“I remember. I wondered if you were telling me what I wanted to hear.”
“No. I told you the truth.”
“It’s just hard to believe you’d choose to be alone forever,” she says, something unreadable in her eyes.
“Why?” Self-sufficiency is a kind of strength.
“I thought no man was an island.”
“Maybe I’ll prove that expression wrong.”
“Maybe.” She finishes her glass of water, then glances at her watch. She grimaces, then gives me a steady glance. I instinctively brace myself, though I’m not sure why. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re too rough on them.”
“Who?” I ask but I know.
“Candace, Madison and Ethan.”
“You’re certainly entitled to your opinion.”
“But it changes nothing?” she asks.
“Why would it change anything?” I’m a little more belligerent than I should be and I know it, but before I can think how to apologize, she puts her glass in the sink and turns away.
That’s it. I’ve finally shut her out. Instead of being glad of my accomplishment, I feel like an ass.
“Early morning tomorrow,” she repeats, her tone so indifferent she could be answering the phone at a call centre. “If you want a ride back to Empire, you’ll need to get dressed.”
“Yes. Thanks.”
Mackenzie heads upstairs. I follow, halfway thinking she’d be glad to leave me behind. Lucky me – she’s too nice to leave me stranded.
See? Conversation after the big deed is never ever a good idea.
I grab my jeans and try to return us to a happier place, if only for the sake of parting well. “It’s a nice condo. Thanks for the recommendation and the discount code.” My efforts to make things better aren’t changing anything. “Will it work again?”
“Yes, it’s evergreen. We just like to offer a discount to our clients when they stay.”
“As opposed to strangers off the internet.”
She makes a face. “Who often lead to high clean-up costs. It’s amazing what some people do to rentals.” She gives me a look. “But then, you won’t be coming back anyway, so what difference does it make?” She sounds disinterested, which stings, but then, I keep telling her I won’t be back.
It’s only the truth.
Mackenzie heads into the bathroom, picking up her clothes on the way.
The silence is deafening. I feel like I should say something but I don’t know what.
The whole point is that this is a hook-up, so saying anything about seeing her again or in future is ridiculous.
It’s amazing that we’ve been together twice.
Amazing is the sum of it.
I get dressed quickly, feeling at odds and uncertain how to fix it.
Interesting that only Mackenzie makes me feel this way. With Chelsea, I always knew the answers – but then, Chelsea and I were actually dating, which maybe makes the difference.
Or maybe it’s that Chelsea was a lot more transparent.
Predictable.
I’m not really sure what Mackenzie wants in the long term. She says her career is first, but is it really? I believed her, but now I wonder.
Maybe she was telling me what she thought I wanted to hear.
One thing is for sure: Mackenzie is faster in the bathroom than any woman I’ve ever known. She emerges in moments, already dressed and on the hunt for her shoes. I am disappointed to have missed another glimpse of her lingerie but am smart enough to keep that confession to myself.
She looks so composed that our interval might not have even happened.
We could be strangers in a subway station.
In fact, she glances at her watch again, as if I’m holding her up, and I pull on my boots and hoodie.
She’s already in the foyer when I grab my wallet and keys, checking something on her phone.
I feel dead to her and I hate it, even though I would have told you that’s exactly what I wanted.
The rain is starting again when we get into her SUV and the streets are even more deserted than they were before. The atmosphere between us is thick, and one more time, I cannot stand it.
“Tell me more about ice wine,” I invite but she scoffs.
“Why?”
“I’m curious.”
“I doubt that.” Her tone is mild, her attention fixed on the road.
We ride in silence, rain pattering on the roof and the windshield. When we pass The Carpe Diem Café, which is now closed, I ask the inescapable and dangerous question. “What’s wrong?”
Mackenzie shrugs. “Nothing. We both got what we wanted tonight.”
“Don’t tell me you have future expectations. Please.”
“Do you?”
“Of course not.”