Chapter 20
FEE
I’m so nervous. My palms are damp and it’s everything I can do not to bounce my knee, which would be bad, since we’re painting pottery and jiggling will screw everything up.
Mac looks so good, and smells so nice, and is so nice.
We’re friends. We’ve hung out plenty of times.
I’ve been posing as his girlfriend for weeks.
We’ve even kissed—OMG that kiss will live rent-free in the bedroom of my brain for all eternity.
I hope we kiss again tonight. Maybe we’ll even make it past first base.
I shut down those thoughts, because it’s one step at a time. Mac likes me. Mac asked me on a date, and he took me somewhere he knew I would like.
“Wow, yours looks really good,” he notes.
We’re sitting across from each other. Our feet are touching under the table. I could perish just from the innocent contact.
“So does yours.” My voice pitches up.
He glances to the table to the right, where a mom and her six-year-old son are painting plates. The six-year-old’s art is on par with what Mac has produced. I’m not even sure what it’s supposed to be. Maybe abstract?
“Uh, thanks for trying to make me feel better, but that is a lie,” he says cheekily.
“We can go do something else if you want,” I offer.
“No. He—ck no. You are totally in your element, and the whole point is to do something fun together and just talk,” he replies.
“But are you in your element?” I dip a brush in dark brown paint and add a little shadow to the bottom of each pussy willow.
“I’m always in my element when I’m with you.” His dimple pops. “That sounded like a bad line, but seriously, Fee, we could be peeling potatoes, and I’d be having a good time because I’m with you.” He drops his voice. “Plus seeing you create in real time is like…so hot.”
My heart gets all fluttery. “How long have you liked me?”
He dips his brush in the blue paint. “I’ve always liked you.”
My paint brush freezes mid-air. “Always?”
“Since we started hanging out,” he confirms. “You just never flirted with me, so I assumed you weren’t interested.”
“I didn’t flirt with you because you didn’t flirt with me. At least not until we started fake dating,” Fee says.
“It felt safer then. Expected?” He explains. “I’d been trying to work up the nerve but the timing was always off, and then the kiss happened, and you didn’t say anything, but you didn’t try to avoid me either.”
“I thought maybe it was hockey gala hormones and my cleavage and the drinks and dancing,” I admit.
“It was definitely all those things,” he agrees. “But I also couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you and then I kissed you, and I really, really couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you. And now here we finally are.”
“It’s about time,” I feign exasperation.
“Right?” His dimple pops, and then his expression grows serious. “I can take a long time to get comfortable with people and flirting is my default. By the time I’m ready to make a move, I’ve usually landed in the friend zone.”
“Better than diving in headfirst all the time?” I move to the white paint and begin the process of turning my pussy willows into kitties by giving them eyes and whiskers.
“In some ways, yeah, but in others it means I miss a lot of opportunities.”
“But not this time.”
“No.” Mac reaches across the table and links our pinkies. “Not this time, and I’m really glad about that, Ophelia.”
“Me, too.”
He brings my paint-splattered hand to his lips and kisses my knuckle.
He would be easy to fall for. He’s thoughtful, fun, and like a best friend already. And I know from that one kiss we have chemistry.
We finish our projects and leave them to dry. We’ll come back to fire and glaze them another time.
“Are you hungry?” Mac asks when we step out into the cold winter night. We’re at the point in the season where we’re tired of the cold but still have weeks to go before we see grass.
“I assume you are since hockey players are always bottomless pits,” I tease.
“I was thinking we could get dessert at the coffee shop across the street.” He tips his chin toward the café.
“I’d love that.”
We cross the street and order coffees and cake.
“Talk to me about your people-pleaser ways,” I say once we’re settled at a two-top in the corner.
“Why do you think I’m a people pleaser?”
“You don’t ever want to hurt anyone’s feelings. You don’t like making people feel bad even if it makes you not happy.”
He leans back and blows out a breath. “Wow. Um, I never really looked at it like that, but I guess you’re right.” He digs into his cake but doesn’t bring his fork to his mouth.
I walk back the question. “You don’t have to explain, Mac, especially not if it makes you uncomfortable.
I’m just digging around and getting to know you.
Sometimes I can be a little intrusive about it.
I’ve spent a lot of time in therapy over the past few years, and it makes me pretty introspective. ”
“Because you lost your parents?” he asks gently.
“And my sister is my guardian, and Roman is my brother-in-law, but he’s more like a father figure.
” I exhale the ache in my chest. “I had this great family and what felt like an amazing, perfect life, with perfect parents, and one morning I woke up and everything had changed. My whole future disappeared and everything became an unknown. I was angry and sad and grieving.” I run my finger around the rim of my cup.
“After Lexi became our guardian, I saw my family through a different lens. Especially my mom. She wasn’t perfect; and she tried to make up for all the mistakes she made with Lexi by trying to live up to an ideal with me and Callie. She kind of overcompensated, I guess?”
“Overcompensated how?” Mac asks, attention fixed on me.
“She was super involved in our lives. And I’m not saying that’s bad.
I loved every minute with my mom, but she documented it all and posted it all on social media.
Every vacation, every class, all our extracurriculars, and then I realized she never did any of that with Lexi.
There weren’t any scrapbooks or photo albums. And maybe it was because she was in an unhappy marriage, but I can’t unknow how that hurt Lexi.
” For a moment I worry I’ve gotten too heavy, let too much of my darkness show.
“I’m so sorry, Ophelia.” He takes my hand in his. “It’s hard when we realize our parents are just human.”
“We’re all fallible, right? I will always love her, and I try my best to remember all the good times, but I can’t erase the truth, and sometimes that’s hard.
For a while, I buried every feeling I had about it, but when Lexi and Roman got married and we were suddenly a family, he said we should all go to therapy together.
So we did, and I learned a lot about myself.
I just want to understand what makes you tick, Mac. ”
“I hate letting people down,” he confesses.
“Because you’ve been let down a lot?” I ask softly.
He shrugs, then nods. “By the people closest to me. My parents, and this girl I dated once.”
“That makes sense. But I want to be one of the people in your life that you can be honest with, and you don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings, or me being upset with you when you are, okay?”
He takes my hand. “I don’t know if I’ll be good at that right away.”
“That’s okay, we’re all works in progress, Mac.”
“You’re so fucking cool, Ophelia.”
“I don’t know about cool, but I try to be a good friend, even though sometimes I can get real serious, like now.” I poke at my cake, feeling silly and embarrassed for getting so intense.
“Don’t do that. Don’t hide your pretty eyes.” He tips my chin up. “I like your serious, Fee. I’ve never had someone who wants to get deep with me. The guys are great, and awesome friends, but mostly our focus is hockey.”
“Makes sense. It takes up a lot of space in your life,” I reply.
He nods. “It’s always been an escape for me. Like when I was young and my parents split, I really dove into the sport and made it my thing.”
“I did the same thing with art. Is that how you coped with the stress?” I only knew the in-love version of my mom.
Lexi didn’t have that when she was growing up, and I see now that part of it was my mom trying to make her relationship with my dad be all the things her relationship with Lexi’s dad wasn’t.
“Yeah. They fought all the time when they were together. Like they just couldn’t…get along? And I was always trying to make them happy so they wouldn’t get into it with each other. The people pleaser in me, I guess?” He smiles ruefully.
“Makes sense, though. No one wants to see the people they love fight all the time.” My parents never fought. Although I’m not sure that’s better. Lexi and Roman disagree, but they always have a conversation without raised voices.
“I really hated it,” Mac confides. “But it was better after the divorce. My dad’s been married and divorced again, but my mom remarried and it’s a much healthier relationship.
They complement each other. They argue sometimes, but it doesn’t turn into yelling matches, or slamming doors, or any of the stuff that used to happen when I was little.
I guess it’s made me conflict averse? I don’t like upsetting people, so I try not to. ”
“I totally get that.” And it explains why he always gave girls false hope when they approached him. “That must have been really stressful as a kid.”
“Yeah.” He nods and fiddles with my fingers.
“I didn’t know it wasn’t normal until my parents divorced and the fighting stopped.
And then my mom met my stepdad and it didn’t start again.
Like I finally saw what a relationship with communication looked like.
But it’s nothing like what you’ve gone through. ”
“It’s just different. Trauma is trauma. However that experience shaped you and made you feel isn’t any less valid because it’s perceived as less extreme,” I reply.
“You’ve lost a lot, though.”
“So did you. All that stability, or the idea of stability, just poof, right? I gained things, too. I have an amazing older sister, and Roman is a kick-ass guy. His gift-giving skills are legendary. And he comes with this whole Terror family. It wasn’t until we moved to Toronto that I truly understood what it meant to have the support of a family that rallies around you.
The way the team shows up for us…it’s special.
I’m lucky. I’ll miss my parents every day for the rest of my life, but I like to believe that they sent Roman and everyone who comes with him to help heal my heart. ”
Mac curves my palm against his cheek. “You have the most incredible heart, Ophelia.”
“Thanks.” I don’t brush the compliment off, because I know when Mac gives them, they have meaning. “I feel the same way about you.”
“What do you say we pack up the rest of our cake and go back to my place?” His voice drops. “So I can have you all to myself.”
I nod, my mouth going dry as my stomach fills with butterflies. “I’d like that.”
Fifteen minutes later we pull into Mac’s driveway. Thankfully, the guys are at a party down the street, so no one stops us as Mac leads me upstairs.
My stomach is a mess of knots and nerves as he opens the door to his bedroom and flicks on the light.
I inhale deeply, breathing in the scent of Mac’s cologne and fresh laundry. “The last time I was in here I was really confused,” I admit.
“You were out cold, and I wasn’t going to leave you on the living room couch.” Mac closes the door with a quiet snick, but he doesn’t bridge the distance between us.
“It was really sweet that you gave up your bed for me.” I roll my bottom lip between my teeth and summon my courage to be completely honest. “I was a little disappointed that I woke up alone, though.”
“Believe me, I wanted to spoon you all night.” He crosses the room, only stopping when our toes touch. “I wanted to do a lot more than spoon you, actually, but restraint and all that.”
“I would’ve loved waking up in your arms.” I link my hands behind his neck and tip my chin up, hopeful and expectant. “Surrounded by you.”
“Thought about that a lot.” He cups my cheek in his palm and dips down, pausing when he’s an inch from my mouth. “Can I kiss you, Ophelia?”
My heart stutters at the use of my full name. “Please.”
He brushes his lips over mine. “That kiss has been on repeat.”
“For me too. Incessantly.” I lick his top lip. “Obsessively.”
He wraps his arm around my waist and angles his head. It starts out slow and soft, but quickly turns hot and needy. I back him toward his bed and when he sits on the edge, I climb into his lap and straddle his thighs.
I slide a hand under his shirt, groaning at the feel of his hot skin under my fingers.
“Fee,” he murmurs.
“You can touch me. I want you to touch me, too,” I assure him.
“Fuck.” He takes my hands in his and breaks the kiss, eyes on fire, jaw set. “I need to tell you something.”
“Sure, okay.” My entire body zings with anticipation. “You can tell me anything.”
“I’m a virgin.”