Page 73 of Jumping In

I hear Mac’s footsteps coming back up to the loft and I set my phone back down, trying to shake the anxiety that just rose up knowing why Shannon sent me that message.

“I got the last Dr. Pepper in the fridge. I’ll have to get some more tomorrow,” he says, handing it to me and then joining me on the bed. I give him what I think is a warm smile, but he knows me too well.

“Hey, what’s wrong, birthday girl?”

I shake my head, already feeling the tears well up. “I don’t even know why I’m emotional right now,” I groan, wiping my eyes.

“MJ, it’s going to be fine. Your parents love and support you. They’re going to understand.” Mac slides his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into him.

“You think?”

“Yeah, baby.” I rest my head on his shoulder. “Would it help if you go over your presentation with me again? We have about an hour until we should head over there foryour dinner.”

I bury my nose into his chest, inhaling his scent and shake my head. Sniffling, I pull away and look into his eyes. “I think I have a better idea.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Between last night and this morning are you sure you aren’t sore?” I am, but in the best way. I shrug my shoulders and then place my hands on his, pulling him on top of me with a giggle.

The Chevelle’s engine rumbles as Mac pulls into the driveway of my parents’ house. Our impromptu lovemaking helped settle my nerves until we hit the gravel road leading to the house. Now my stomach is all bubbly, and I can’t stop shaking my leg back and forth across the leather seat. Mac helps me out of the car, like usual and I wipe my clammy hands off on the black maxi dress I wore. I take Mac’s hand as we walk up to the front door, adjusting my book bag on the other shoulder. I’m prepared to show them everything I’ve researched and created to hopefully get them to be okay with my decision.

Talking with Mac gave me a renewed sense of independence and I know that while I would prefer my parents be on my side and supporting me with this decision, I don’t need them. It would hurt if they didn’t support me, but I’ve made my choice regardless of their opinions. Mac rings the doorbell, and my mom greets us with a warm smile.

“Happy birthday, Peanut!” she says, pulling both of us in for a hug. She leads us to the more formal dining room where my dad is already sitting, and he also greets us with a smile.

“Emmalynn, happy birthday.”

He stands and walks toward me, giving me a warm hug. “Mac, thank you for joining us,” Dad says, shaking Mac’s hand before gesturing to the table for us to take our seats. It’s weird hearing my dad call him Mac again after hearing him say Alexander for most of the summer.

I take a seat at the table and Mac sits down next to me. My bag makes a thump on the ground beside me as I drop it down.

“It smells wonderful, Mrs. Lawrence,” Mac says.

He’s right, it smells like mom made one of my favorites that we usually only eat in the winter because it uses the oven and heats the house. It’s homemade bread filled with cooked cabbage and hamburger and then baked in the oven. Absolutely delicious and one of my dad’s favorites too. We’ve always called it cabbage bread, but my grandma calls them by their German name, bierocks.

“Mac, honestly, please call me Laurie.”

He nods but looks at me, shaking his head slightly, and I can’t stop the giggle that bursts from me.

I clear my throat and pull up my book bag.

“Mom, Dad, before we eat, I have something I’d like to share with you if that’s okay?”

My parents smile and nod in unison. Mac slides his hand onto my thigh under the table and squeezes. I open the PowerPoint presentation on my laptop and turn the screen to face my parents. Mom scoots her chair closer to Dad, and they both lean in to see the screen.

“Sorry it’s so small. I should have thought about that,” I breathe.

“It’s fine, Emmalynn. We’re not that old yet. Go ahead.” My dad sounds almost encouraging, and I’m thrown off balance for a second.

I clear my throat again and then give them the presentation all about social media marketing, graphic design, and the online program at Caracrest. I barrel through the presentation and end with highlighting some of the work I’ve done for the restaurant and for Mac’s shop.

I watch my mom’s face through the presentation, afraid to see Dad’s reaction. She smiles and nods her head like she understands what I’m sharing. When I finally get the courage to look over at my dad, I have to place my hand on top of Mac’s, steadying myself.

His smile is warm and unguarded like it was when I was a kid.

“Emmalynn, this is very impressive, and it’s obvious you’re very passionate but . . .” I open my mouth to cut him off because he is not about to tell me no right now, right? He holds up a finger to stop me and then continues to speak. “But if you felt the need to create something like this to sway us to your side, then that tells me we haven’t been doing a good enough job as your parents.”

“What?” I say, barely above a whisper.

“Peanut, what your father is trying to say is this presentation, while lovely, was unnecessary,” my mom adds.

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