Chapter 15

ELODIE

I could tell Mac was distracted. He wasn't his usual flirtatious self.

Sure, he'd kissed me after we'd sat down in a quiet corner of the Japanese restaurant, but he was too quiet, and his answers to my questions were vague. It was like his head was in an entirely different place.

My insecurities wondered if he was tired of me. Was he finding the courage to break things off? Was this over before it really started? Paranoia began to consume me. The longer he didn't say anything, the more worried I became. Fear of losing him made me realize how much I liked him. How I was actually growing to care for him, even if that was dangerous. Moreover, I still had so much to learn about him. And me, for that matter, too. It felt like I'd just gotten onto this path of self-discovery, and I wasn't ready for it to end so soon.

When I was anxious, I tended to be jumpy. So when the server leaned down to set an appetizer in front of me and my mind was still lost in thought, I nearly knocked over my glass of water. Luckily, the server caught it just in time.

"Whoa there!" He smiled. "You okay?"

I let out an unsteady laugh. "Sorry. Yeah, sure, yeah."

When the server disappeared, I looked at Mac and realized he barely noticed the exchange.

Maybe he regretted inviting me to dinner with his parents? I took in Mac's expression as if I was trying to crack a secret code. But Mac wasn't giving anything away. He looked tired, and when I'd asked him about it, he'd attributed it to not sleeping well the night before. Other than that, he just seemed sort of—far away.

We hadn't seen each other since Idaho. Maybe his parents called him after and told him they hated me. Would Mac care about their opinion? Jesus, I was starting to spiral. I was grateful when the server returned with a fresh plate of edamame that could distract us both.

My hunger somewhat abated, I gathered my courage. "Are you okay?" I asked.

Mac smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, why?"

"You seem like you've got something on your mind. You've barely said a word to me all night."

Underneath the table, I twisted my fingers so hard that I had to force myself to stop. I pushed my hands under my thighs to keep them still. But that only made me dig my nails into the booth upholstery.

"Is it about your parents?" I asked.

Mac sighed. "How could you tell?"

"Well, you all definitely seemed tense around each other. It was clear you didn't want to be at dinner, and I'm getting that same feeling now—that you would rather be anywhere than here."

"Shit, no. I didn't mean to make you feel like that."

"Do you want to talk about how you felt after seeing them?"

"Not really." Mac scraped the meat from an edamame pod with his teeth and tossed the shell into the bowl, looking disgusted. "I told you I've always had tickets for them, but this is the first time they actually attended."

"Yeah, I know."

"And then my dad acts the way he did. Why ask us out for dinner if he was just gonna be an asshole? He's always hated me."

I felt my eyes widen. "Your dad hates you?"

Mac looked embarrassed. "Okay, maybe not hate. But he's always treated me like I was fucked in the head. I never was the golden boy he wanted."

Bitterness dripped from Mac's voice. I took his hand and squeezed it. "Your dad is wrong, you know. You're not fucked in the head."

Mac let out a bitter laugh. "You're sweet. But you have no idea. Not really."

I could sense Mac wanted to say more, so I waited, giving him space even though the silence was uncomfortable. When the server came by to serve us our sushi, I nearly shot out of my seat to tell him to go away.

"My mom called me the other day," Mac said heavily. "A family friend . . . she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. It's stage 4. She only has months to live."

That was probably the last thing I was expecting him to say.

"Jesus. I'm sorry."

"Actually, she's not a family friend. Not anymore."

I blinked, confused. "Why not?"

Mac dipped his sushi in soy sauce, looking far away again. "My dad became head pastor of our church when I was a teenager. As a kid, he was the associate pastor. The head pastor was a guy named Dave Bradford. He and his wife Caroline were good friends of my parents. Caroline is the one who has cancer."

I moved my eyes from side to side, trying to make sense of where the story was going. " Were good friends? What happened?"

"Caroline and I happened."

Whoa. My stomach dipped. Caroline . . . and Mac? What?

At my shocked expression, Mac chuckled darkly. "She was twenty-five years older than me, but we had a relationship. She was the one who taught me everything I know. I was her submissive. Caroline was—is—a dominatrix."

Holy crap. I'd known something was missing when it came to the tension in Mac's family. But I could've never predicted this, something more scandalous than I ever imagined. I didn't know how to respond. A pastor's wife had been a dominatrix? And she'd had an affair with the son of the associate pastor? What the fuck?

"Yeah, I know. It's fucking insane when I say it out loud. And I know it's strange that I'm upset that Caroline is sick, but . . ." Mac shrugged. "It's complicated."

Jealousy tore through me, even if it was sad to be jealous of a woman who was dying. But I couldn't help it. My throat was painfully dry. "Do you still have feelings for her?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

"What? Christ, no! No, of course not. I just care about her, that's all. And hearing that she's dying of cancer brought back a lot of bad memories."

I forced myself to eat some of the sushi I'd ordered, even as it tasted like ash in my mouth. Or maybe it was to stop myself from interrogating Mac further. I wanted to hear all the details about this affair, but Mac looked pained.Or maybe I didn't want to know. I couldn't quite figure it out. It was more like I had to know but didn't really want to be subjected to anything that would make me even more jealous and confused than I already was.

And then I felt guilty because I was jealous of his pain. It hurt that he still cared this much about Caroline. That he was thinking of another woman, even if he denied having any feelings for her.

"Then we should change the subject," I said, trying to sound cheery, even if it felt like my world had been turned upside down.

We talked about the sushi, about the terrible traffic that always plagued LA, and about how it was supposed to get hot this weekend. All inoffensive subjects that seemed to help bring Mac back to the present.

"Did I tell you that my uncle wants to see me?" I asked. Why not replace one uncomfortable subject for another?

"Your uncle? Is he visiting soon?"

I shook my head. "No, he and his family live here. But I've never gone to see them."

Now Mac looked shocked. "Why not?"

"Um, it's complicated. He's my mom's brother. Her family never approved of her getting together with my dad or getting pregnant before they got married. But since she died, my uncle has reached out a few times, but I always ignore it."

"Maybe he wants to mend fences," Mac ventured. "I mean, how old was he when your mom got pregnant?"

I hadn't thought about it. "He was a teenager, I guess. It was mostly my grandparents who were shitty about the whole thing."

"You should reply." Mac looked serious now. "Family is important, Elodie. You know what I'd give to have family who wanted to see me? That didn't always judge me?"

"I mean, my mom's family judged her . . ." I felt defensive now.

"Her parents did. You don't know about her siblings."

I was annoyed now. Mac didn't get to lecture me on how I dealt with my own family, just like I couldn't lecture him on his. "How about we talk about something else?" I said, realizing what a mistake it was to bring up the subject of my uncle.

Mac's smile was wry now. "Probably a good idea."

My initial anger faded away. Damn Mac and his smile. It always got me to do whatever he wanted.

After dinner, we returned to my place. The mood continued to be tense for the rest of the night. My imagination ran wild with images of Mac and Caroline. I wondered what she looked like, what he wasn't telling me. I also pondered the fact that he'd told me he was her submissive. Was his being a Dom now some sort of retaliation for him feeling taken advantage of when he was younger? Or did he truly prefer it? There was so much I wanted to ask him, but I also needed to be cognizant of the fact that he'd just received devastating news about this person. I didn't want to push him over the edge by prying too hard.

A few hours later, I was finally dozing when I heard movement in my bedroom. It was dark, but I could make out Mac's figure in the shadows. When he ran into something and cursed, I winced. And then groaned when he turned on a lamp on my dresser.

After he reassured me he was fine, he padded to the bathroom but hadn't turned off the light. I closed my eyes again, sleep wanting to claim me, when I heard Mac come back into my bedroom.

"Hey, Elodie," he said, "what is this?"

My heart practically dropped to the floor after I opened my eyes. Mac held up a notebook—the same one I'd used when collecting information about him. And at the top was Dawn Morrison's name and number.