Page 15 of Jumping In

The doorbell rings and my dad hollers from his office, “Emmalynn, can you get that, please? I’m not quite ready for Alexander yet.”

“Sure can!” I yell back. I toss my book on the ottoman and then brush the crumbs off my chest from the muffin—ever since I got boobs, I tend to collect crumbs there anytime I eat. Opening the large white door, I’m met with Mac in clean jeans and a button-up shirt. His dark brown hair looks clean but a little untamed without his baseball cap holding it down. If it weren’t for his work boots, I’d think he had a completely different profession than a mechanic.

I smile softly at him and welcome him into my home. “Come on in. Dad isn’t quite ready to meet yet, but I was just in the library if you want to join me there?”

His eyes scan me up and down, and he nods, adjusting his black backpack on his shoulder. I turn, feeling his eyes on my back, and lead him to the library. I sit back down in the chair I was in. Picking my phone up to scroll Instagram, I can’t help but steal glances at Mac. He’s perusing the shelves of books as if he’s in a bookstore and I wonder if he’s being hit with memories of our time spent in this very room.

The home library isn’t huge, but because Dad and I both love reading so much, it was a necessity. It’s right off the front door and has a few comfy chairs and a chaise lounge by the front window. I used to love sitting in that lounge chair and reading while the monsoons would roll in during the summer. A lot of times Mac was with me, and he’d laugh every time the thunder made me jump.

I look over at the window seat, remembering a severe storm that cut the power. Mac and I hunkered down with a flashlight, and he read to me while reassuring me everything was going to be just fine. His soothing voice lulled me into a calm, and the next thing I knew, my mom was waking us up to let us know the storm was over and it was safe for Mac to head home.

A few minutes pass and Dad comes into the library to lead us to his home office. Grabbing my laptop and notebook off the table, I look behind me and see Mac lingering in the library for an extra second. I lose sight of him as I turn the corner down the hallway, but he knows his way around the house as well as I do, so I’m not worried he’ll get lost.

Dad sits behind his deep mahogany desk; I sit in the love seat off to the side of the office. I’m close enough to hear but not be in the conversation. My role here is to be a fly on the wall and take notes; at least for now.

Mac walks in and takes a seat in one of the large chairs in front of Dad’s desk. He plops his backpack on the floor between his feet and I notice the zipper is open. He was always one of those messy kids in school and it brings a smile to my face to see some things haven’t changed.

“Actually, give me just a moment, I’m sorry. Would either of you like something to drink? I’d like to freshen up my water before we get started,” my dad says as he stands back up and shuffles out of the office.

“I’m okay, thanks, Dad.”

I hear Mac mumble, “No, thank you.”

Lookingaround my dad’s office, my eyes keep straying back to Mac sitting in the chair. He’s looking down at his feet where one is bouncing up and down from nerves. He’s done that since we were little, always fidgeting and moving around.

“Do I even get a hello? Or are you just going to pretend I’m not even here?” I finally break the awkward silence. That was a little more hostile than I intended, but it hurts that he hasn’t even acknowledged me yet.

“Hey, MJ,” he replies quickly.

“Actually, it’s Emmalynn now,” I say a little sterner than I meant. And honestly, I don’t even know why I said it. I started going by Emmalynn in college, and it’s what my parents have always called me.

Mac smirks at my tone. “Why Emmalynn?”

“Emmalynn is more professional,” I reply curtly.

“Ah, so I can call you MJ when we aren’t being professional?” He raises an eyebrow and my cheeks heat. His eyes flare with something I can’t quite read. Damn him for getting me all flustered.

Before I can come up with a cheeky response, he continues, “Nah, baby, I don’t think so. You’ve been MJ to me since you were seven and I’m not just gonna start calling you Emmalynn because you want to be,” he makes air quotes with his fingers, “professional.”

My jaw drops just as my dad returns. “Okay, I think I’m good now. Let’s get started.”

I sit there with my laptop in my lap, fingers on the keys, but I don’t type a single thing. I’m too busy replaying what Mac justsaid to me. And what was with that “baby” he used? He’s never called me baby before. Was it just a slip of the tongue?

The next thing I know, my dad and Mac are standing up and shaking hands. Mac sees himself out of the office and out the front door. I grab my stuff and scurry out of my dad’s office before he questions me. I guarantee he noticed I didn’t take a single note.

I go back to the library to grab my book but notice it isn’t where I left it. I could’ve sworn I sat it down on the ottoman where I was sitting and now it’s not there. Honestly, I was so distracted by Mac from the moment he walked into my house that I could’ve sat it down anywhere and not realized.

Still in a bit of a daze, I text Shannon that I seriously need some girl time. I have to tell someone about that exchange with Mac and help get my head on straight if I’m going to actually help with this case.

The rest of Monday moves on quickly. I spend some time with Mom in her garden after she gets home from work. Taking a bunch of pictures of her flowers, I now have content for my Instagram but would still like some more by the creek. I started a new book since I still haven’t found the one I was reading earlier this morning yet.

I’m lying on my bed listening to Taylor Swift’sfolklorealbum and it’s putting me in a good summer mood. A textpops up on my phone from Shannon, confirming she can meet me for lunch on Thursday before her shift at Hal’s.

I text her back and look over at my desk. It’s covered in law school brochures and sticky notes. I really need to work on applications for law school, or at least pretend I sent them. All it would take is my parents looking at my desk to know I lied about submitting them.

Dad firmly believes that I have the potential to get into Harvard or Yale law, but I’m not so sure. Truth be told, I struggled through the law-based classes my senior year. I wish I could say that was one of the first signs I shouldn’t be going to law school, but it wasn’t. College can be hard; I breezed through high school, but college wasn’t easy. I stuck it out, but I wasn’t getting straight A’s. More like B’s and C’s.

Thankfully, Mom and Dad didn’t see my actual grades and when they asked about school, they accepted my answer that my GPA was a three-point-something. They didn’t know the “something” was closer to a zero than a nine, but that’s okay.

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