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by Sierra Cartwright


  “No.” In fact, in most ways he was totally wonderful. Except for wanting the one thing she wasn’t willing to give.

  “And his equipment is adequately sized?”

  “Oh my God, Bella! I am so not answering that question.”

  “Ha! You did. You wouldn’t be lamenting that it was over, you’d be making little dick jokes with me.”

  “Would not.”

  “Charlie?”

  She groaned. “Don’t. Don’t go there.”

  “Half-A-Dick. That’s what you called him after you broke up.”

  “I did not. I’m sure you did. Or Cathy.”

  “We just adopted the saying after you slipped.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “So. Kennedy is not a troll.” She held up a finger. “And his package is at least adequately sized, bigger than Half-A-Dick at least.” She held up a second finger. “And he asked you to marry him?” She held up a third finger, then a fourth. “And you said no.”

  Since she refused to answer any questions that involved the size of Kennedy’s penis, she remained silent.

  “Did you leave your brain for a bit? Send your common sense out to lunch while the rest of you stayed behind?”

  She winced.

  “Oh. Sorry. I’m supposed to be sympathetic. Let me try again.”

  At least Bella had jolted Mackenzie out of her pit of despair.

  “Look.” She cocked her head to the side and drew her penciled-on eyebrows together. “This is my concerned look. Tell Aunty Bella why you dumped Kennedy Aldrich.”

  “It wasn’t like I dumped him.”

  “My concerned look is becoming my confused look.” She took a drink of beer, maybe hoping to clear the fog. “What am I missing?”

  “You were there last time,” she reminded Bella. “After the divorce. That’s so much harder than a break up. You’ve got lawyers and judges, people poking into your private life, your finances, trying to make you look bad. Once was enough.”

  “I get that. That would suck. But not all marriages end bad.”

  “Doesn’t matter to me. When I took that cruise, I decided I was going to be happily single.”

  “Did he know that?”

  “Yeah. I told him. Again and again. You heard him, us, when we came to watch the game with you and James last month.”

  “Maybe he thought you were joking?”

  “No.”

  “So, what’s the problem? He wanted to get married. You said no.”

  “He gave me an ultimatum.”

  “Oh. Problem. Maybe he’s not as bright as I thought. No one does well with one of those. He probably does that in business and calls it negotiating.”

  She laughed at that.

  “He screwed up,” Bella said.

  The waitress brought over a plate of nachos.

  Bella scooped up one and added a huge jalapeno slice as she asked, “He’s not open to negotiation?”

  “No.”

  “So it’s all or nothing.” She wiped off her hands. “Did he ask for a prenup so you can’t get your greedy fingers on half his cash?”

  She blinked. “Never mentioned it.”

  “That bastard. Willing to put a hundred million dollars on the line for you. I’d have told him no, too, and to come back when he thought he was ready for a commitment.”

  “You’re being ludicrous.”

  “Probably. Look, Mackenzie, I love you. We’ve been through a lot together, and there’s more to come. I just want you to see it from a different point of view. I want to make sure you’re not missing anything because you’re viewing it through a myopic lens.”

  The waitress interrupted them, asking if they were ready for a refill, and they both refused, quickly, letting her know they were ready to get back to their conversation.

  “I get that you want to be single. You’ve been hurt. Some people like being alone. But do you? Really? Have you been really honest with yourself? Or is it nice waking up next to someone? Having them do little things for you? Being part of a team?”

  “There would be a lot of crap the future Mrs. Aldrich will have to put up with,” she said, “including the press.”

  “And you don’t think they’d get tired of following him around? Stories about eligible bachelors sell magazine and advertising. No one cares about married businessmen. Rock stars, movie stars, maybe. But once the wedding is over, they’ll be onto the next most eligible bachelor.”

  “Then there’s the matter of my lack of pedigree.”

  “If he cared, he wouldn’t have proposed.”

  She exhaled. “His family will.”

  “And? Did you approve of your father getting married for the ninth time?”

  “Third.”

  “Did he ask you?”

  “No.”

  “That’s my point. Adults don’t ask their mommy or daddy’s permission.”

  The people in the bar erupted into jeers over a bad call by a referee.

  When the television station cut to a commercial break, Bella finished up. “Stay single if that’s what you really want. I’ll support that. It’ll be good to have a girlfriend to hang with. But ask yourself if you’re sure. You celebrated when it was over with Half-A-Dick, and if you’re still moping three weeks later, it makes me wonder.”

  “Wait.” She blinked, jolted out of her own trance. “A girlfriend to go out with?”

  “I invited you out to share my good news. I kicked James to the curb for good. I tossed his golf clubs out of a window.” She brushed her hands together. “That, my friend, is what you do when you’re glad a relationship is over.” She picked up her beer. “So why aren’t you celebrating?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Mackenzie went to The Hub on Saturday night. She told herself that she was enjoying single life.

  A Dom she’d scened with on a previous occasion approached her.

  “You looking for a partner?”

  She’d had a good time with him before. But his touch was tamer than what she was looking for. She thanked him and refused the offer.

  Midway through the evening, she hadn’t played with anyone. Standing in the kitchen, drinking a soft drink, she admitted the truth to herself. She’d put on her sexiest outfit and skipped the panties because she’d been hoping to see Kennedy.

  They could have had a conversation, and she wouldn’t have had to take the first step.

  That realization was followed quickly by another.

  During their last night together, he’d called her an emotional coward. He’d been saying it because she wouldn’t commit to a relationship.

  Mackenzie recognized that coming here tonight had been a passive-aggressive tactic. She prided herself on a direct approach—she’d turned down a Dom earlier, but she couldn’t be direct with Kennedy.

  She propped her hips against the counter for support and managed to shut out all the other people around her.

  Until this moment, she also hadn’t considered what she might do if Kennedy showed up with another woman or if she saw him beating or fingering another sub.

  Suddenly she couldn’t breathe.

  She’d been convinced that he thought about her as often as she was thinking about him. But what if he wasn’t? What if he’d moved beyond her rejection and had started dating again, looking for his future bride?

  How would she feel then?

  The conversation last week with Bella had made her think. While Mackenzie hadn’t changed her mind about getting married, she hadn’t needed to push him away. As long as she’d been willing to tell the world they were together, they could have continued to talk, to discuss the things that mattered to her. Perhaps they would have eventually reached an accord.

  She said hello to Alma on her way to the door. While she called a cab, the front desk person collected her coat.

  All the way home, she felt chilled.

  Even a warm bath with a glass of Malbec didn’t help.

  A few hours later, not having been to bed, she
stood in front of the kitchen window and watched the sunrise. As the tendrils of a new day filtered across the sky, chasing away the night, she admitted the final truth to herself. The month-long absence had taught her that she loved Kennedy.

  Which left her with another question. What was she going to do about it? How big of a risk was she willing to take?

  * * * *

  Monday morning, she was dragged from sleep by insistent pounding on the front door. Since it was still dark outside, she told herself she was dreaming, or that someone was knocking on a neighbor’s door. She dragged a pillow and blanket over her head.

  Then the phone rang.

  She bolted upright.

  Next she heard ferocious barking below her bedroom window. She grabbed her phone as she flipped on a light and looked outside. Mrs. Hoosier was standing on her hind legs, her front paws on top of the chain-link face, and she was alternating barks with warning growls.

  She answered the phone. “Mr. Greene?”

  “Someone is pounding on your door, so Mrs. Hoosier is protecting you. I am going to call the police.”

  “No. Wait.” She closed her eyes and dragged a hand into her hair.

  The pounding continued, and she heard, “Zee! Open the damn door.”

  Kennedy?

  She exhaled, trying to sort things out. “I know who it is, Mr. Greene.”

  “I’m still calling the police.”

  “It’s my version of Mrs. Braselton.”

  “Oh?” he replied. “Oh!”

  As she started down the stairs, she heard Mr. Greene call for the dog.

  “He might want to come over during the day,” Mr. Greene suggested.

  “Thank you for your concern,” she said. “And tell Mrs. Hoosier I’ll have an extra treat for her next time I see her.”

  She ended the call before dropping the phone onto the entryway table. “Coming!” Not that it would help, but she tugged her fingers through her tangled hair, scrubbed her hand over her face, ran her tongue over her lips then pulled her pajamas into place.

  Not knowing what to say or how to behave, she unlocked the door and pulled it open.

  He stood there, hair windswept, pushed back and at least two days’ worth of stubble on his square chin. He was wearing a pea coat that went perfectly, she thought, with his lime green Cloud Walkers.

  He’d never looked more exhausted or more handsome.

  And she thought all that before she saw him holding a cup of coffee in his hand.

  Her pulse seemed to have jumped to hyperspace. But she was afraid to make assumptions, so she forced herself to keep a polite smile on her face and guard her heart so that he wouldn’t see it shatter if he didn’t say what she suddenly hoped to hear.

  “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t invite me in,” he said. “But since I was on a plane all night, trying to get back to you, I’m hoping you will let me get out of the cold for thirty seconds.”

  She took the coffee.

  He stood there, eyebrows knitted together, looking a bit uncertain.

  “Please,” she said, stepping aside.

  “Ah… You don’t have company?”

  “No,” she said softly because she’d had a similar knot of fear and hesitation at the club two nights before. “I don’t have any energy drinks.”

  “I don’t need one.”

  “The neighbor almost called the police.”

  “That would have hit the gossip sites,” he said. “I should have thought it through. I just came straight here from the airport.”

  She had a million questions. “Where were you?”

  “Mexico. I went for a friend’s bachelor party. Long story. But since I was that far and Thomas is up to taking on a few more hours at the office, we decided I should stay away and visit some of our overseas holdings. It took a couple of days longer than I’d planned.”

  This was awkward. She still didn’t know what he wanted, and it seemed that they were making small talk, with her in her pajamas and both of them in the entryway.

  “My thirty seconds are up and you haven’t kicked me out.”

  “I think you should come in. And I think I should…” She pointed to the stairs. “Put on some jeans.” And brush her teeth.

  “Did you really sleep in a thousand dollar football jersey?”

  “A thousand dollars?” She gulped.

  He nodded.

  “The previous owner would be delighted. And so am I. You wore it because it was mine?”

  “Yeah.” The admission unnerved her. But she’d made a resolution to be braver, even though it meant taking risks. After all, nothing he said this morning could make her hurt worse than what she’d already endured.

  “Where do you want me to wait?”

  That depended on what he planned to discuss. If he intended to tell her he’d started dating someone else, he could stay in the entryway and leave his coat on. “The kitchen table is fine.” She dashed upstairs, and she took her coffee with her.

  Five minutes later, she felt marginally more human and considerably less vulnerable. She’d traded the jersey for a bra, a sweatshirt and pants. And she’d downed half the coffee. Now she could take on the world.

  He’d hung his coat on the banister, she noticed. Odd. Messy. But it also meant that he planned to stay a while, and that realization helped.

  When she entered the kitchen, he was sitting at the table, hands steepled.

  “Look,” she said, sliding in across from him. “I don’t want to chitchat. I doubt you found an open coffee shop and drove straight here from the airport for idle talk, either.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “So, tell me why you’re here. And when you’re ready, I’ve had a few thoughts while you were gone that I wanted to share with you.”

  He tapped his index fingers together. “I don’t often miscalculate situations. And when I do, I’m not the best at admitting my mistakes. I’m flawed.”

  Since she wasn’t sure how to respond, she wrapped her hands around the now-cool cup of coffee.

  “Issuing the woman you love an ultimatum is a magnificently stupid idea.”

  The band constricting her heart loosened a bit.

  “It’s an act of desperation, of bravado, of impatience. I’ve regretted it every day since. How badly have I fucked up?”

  Now that it was her turn for the truth, she really couldn’t breathe. She realized how much this had cost him, and she knew she had to be willing to pay the same price. After forcing herself to expel a constricting breath she said, “You haven’t. You’ve been honest, clear, a bit speedy for me, but you didn’t screw this up, I did.”

  “Mackenzie—”

  “Please. Let me. I need to say this.”

  He waited.

  “You told me I was a coward.”

  “I was stupid.”

  “You were right,” she countered. “I’ve missed having you in my life.” And the intimacy. “Even snuggling.”

  “That act that you never did and always hated?”

  “That’s the one. I am afraid, of commitment. And I do like most of the things about being single.”

  He pushed back his chair and stood. “What are you saying?”

  “I was miserable without you. Being with you is better than being single. I was struggling to keep a promise to myself, even though things changed. I met a man who is honorable and isn’t a troll.”

  “A troll?”

  “Something Bella said about you.”

  “Bella said I was a troll?”

  She shook her head. “That came out all wrong. Bella said you were not a troll.”

  “You told her we had a relationship?”

  “I did.” She moved aside her coffee. “I don’t like ultimatums.”

  “No one does. It leaves no room for negotiation or compromise.”

  “Let me finish?”

  He moved to the window, putting space between them.

  “You were right to call me on my fear. I might not have re
alized what I was doing otherwise. I hated it, but you were right. I’ve faced it. And here’s the truth. I love you. I’m not ready for marriage, but I’m not saying I never will be.”

  “That’s less than I’d dreamed of and more than I hoped for.”

  “I’m not sure what that means?” She felt a sudden chill again. Had they just talked things out only to arrive back at the same place?

  “I’ll be honest, I’d like to have you select a ring from my grandmother’s safe. But as long as you are willing to admit we have a relationship, I’m happy. I would also like you to consider, again when you’re ready, having an alteration done to the tattoo.”

  “To close the lock?” Her pulse became rapid.

  “When you’re ready,” he repeated.

  It was a lot to take in. But how else would he proceed. “First, I want you to agree to a moratorium on the M-word.”

  He frowned.

  “Give and take,” she told him.

  His frown became a scowl. “For how long?”

  “Six months.” She wanted three, so she started at six.

  “Three.”

  “Deal.”

  He narrowed his sexy, shadowed green eyes at her. “That was what you wanted.”

  “Yes, Sir, it was.”

  “Clever sub. Let the Dom think something was his idea.”

  “Whatever can you mean?”

  “Let work know that you’re not coming in?”

  She retrieved her phone and called work. Since it was still before office hours, she got the recording.

  Her gaze on him, she left her message. “Hey, Carole, it’s me. I won’t be there today. My sexy boyfriend, Kennedy Aldrich, flew all night to see me, and he wants to spend the day snuggling. Only call if it’s urgent. I may or may not check email.” She ended the call. “That, Master Aldrich, was the equivalent of calling a gossip magazine. Are you sure you’re ready for the repercussions?”

  “In the infamous words of my favorite sub, bring it.”

  She stood even as he was moving toward her.

  He caught her in his arms and held her tight. “I love you, Mackenzie,” he said.

  Something was digging into her thigh. She tried to move it away. And it had a familiar, square shape. “What is that?”

 

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