Page 68 of Festive Faking
I sucked in a sharp breath as that realization came out of left field, but the shock of it didn’t make it any less true. Bit by bit, Mac had revealed the best parts of himself and, in doing so, had slowly captured pieces of my heart until he’d earned the whole thing.
The idea of coming right out and sharing my feelings was tossed aside immediately. Not once had we discussed what would happen past this week. For all I knew, he considered what we’d shared to be nothing more than a fling, and I didn’t want to risk looking like a lovesick fool.
My head dropped back on a groan, and I covered my face with my hands.
Who knew falling in love could be so complicated?
Pacing the cabin, I watched as the minutes ticked by with no sign of Mac’s return. Trying to get in touch with him was useless as he’d left my texts on read and hadn’t picked up when I called.
Where the hell was he?
At this rate, we would be cutting it close on making it to the airport on time. There were only two direct flights from Oklahoma City to Los Angeles per day—one in the morning, another in the afternoon—so if we missed ours, the earliest we could hope to get out would be tomorrow. With the increased volume of travelers due to the holiday, snagging a standby spot would be difficult and we could be stuck here even longer.
Fed up and starting to freak out that maybe something had happened to him, I was about to borrow Tripp’s truck and go in search of him when the cabin door burst open to reveal the man I was ready to strangle for making me worry all morning.
I tossed my hands on my hips, my anger rising to the surface. “Care to explain why you couldn’t answer your phone since you aren’t dead in a ditch?”
A corner of his lips teased up into that infuriating smirk that had me itching to smack it off his face, but he didn’t answer my question. Instead, he held a hand out to me. “Come on. I want to show you something.”
Was he serious right now?
I gestured toward the suitcases standing side by side at the foot of the bed. Irritation that I’d had to pack his because he’d been gone leaked into my tone when I declared, “We don’t have time for this.”
Mac curled his fingers, silently asking me to take his hand. “Yes, we do. I promise.” His gaze softened, and any annoyance I felt melted away when he begged, “Please?”
With a sigh, I slipped my palm against his, letting him tug me outside.
He settled me into Daddy’s pickup and drove us into town. When we parked outside a vacant storefront on Main Street with aFor Leasesign in the picture window, my confusion only grew.
“What are we doing here?”
“You’ll see.” Mac hopped out of the driver’s seat and rounded the hood to open my door.
Producing a key, he fit it into the lock of the door and pushed inside. I was still standing on the threshold when he moved to the center of the open space, spreading his arms wide and asking, “What do you think?”
My mouth opened and closed a few times as I tried to figure out what in the world had gotten into him. Eventually, I found my voice. “I think we’re going to miss our flight.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Cancelled it.”
Eyes bulging out of my head, I screeched, “You didwhat?!” Taking a moment to breathe, I calmed down enough to ask, “Why would you do that?”
The smile slipped from his face, and he swallowed so hard that the sharp tip of his Adam’s apple bobbed along his throat. “Because, once we leave, you’ll go back to hating me, and the thought of it makes me sick to my stomach.” The press of a palm to his abdomen betrayed the truth of that statement.
My heart twisted. “I never hated you, Mac.”
He scoffed. “Maybe not, but you barely tolerated me. Don’t pretend that’s not true.”
I moved closer, sensing his need for comfort. “That’s because I didn’t know you. The real you.”
“I don’t think I can be myself in LA, Aspen.”
His admission validated my earlier concerns surrounding our return to the city.
“Okay.” I drew the word out slowly. “How about this: when we get back—”
“I’m not going back.” That announcement was said with such conviction that I stumbled back a step.
“Mac, we have to go back.” I tried to reason with him. “We have one more semester left before graduation.”
