Page 129 of Protecting What's Mine
Mack’s breath was coming in gasps. Whimpers worked their way out of her throat as they rode each other out. Sweat dotted her chest and trickled down her back. And when it was over, while he was still sheathed inside her, while their pulses thundered victoriously together, he rained soft kisses over her face. Whispered words of praise and gratitude in her ears while their bodies were still connected.
42
Mack’s phone rang for the fifth time under the stack of files on her desk. Insistently. She was in the clinic. That was her excuse for not answering. Sure, the practice had closed an hour ago, but she really wasn’t interested in ending her day on a sour note.
She waited an entire minute before pushing play on the voicemail message.
“Mackenzie, it’s your mother. It’s very important. Call me.” The voice was singsong and had a trademark Texas twang despite the fact that her mother had been born and raised in Delaware and now lived in Illinois.
“Menlovea southern belle, Mackenzie,” she’d always said. Andrea O’Neil-Leyva-Mann was an expert on what men loved.
Stubbornly, Mack returned her focus to the insurance appeal she was working on. Her patient needed a Tier 4 medication that the insurance company had denied twice.Thatwas important. She finished off the letter and attached the necessary documentation. Then she copied all the files into the patient’s record and scheduled a note to follow up with the insurance company on Monday.
With all that taken care of, she was officially off duty for the day. And out of excuses to not call her mother back.
Was she being a healthy adult by avoiding unnecessary stress? Or was this an immature defense mechanism left over from a tumultuous childhood?
She picked up the phone and scrolled to her mother’s contact. Andrea. Not Mom. Andrea hadn’t earned the title.
“Mackenzie!” her mother trilled when she answered, and Mack automatically shifted into carefully listening mode for any signs of alcohol, her mother’s favorite hobby.
“Hi, Mom.”
“I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks,” Andrea complained.
It had been four hours.
“I’ve been busy. What do you need?”
“Well, as you know, my birthday is coming up next weekend, and it’s beenso longsince you’ve been home. I would justloveit if you could come back for a little celebration.”
Mack rubbed the dull ache at the back of her neck. Despite her susceptibility to guilt, she hadn’t been “home” in two years.
“Is Wendy going to be there?” Mack asked. It was her automatic out where family gatherings were concerned.
“Don’t be silly, Mackenzie. I wouldn’t ask you if I thought your sister would be around. She moved away ages ago. It’ll be just you and me.” Her mother gave a shaky, sad sigh. “To be honest, I’m feeling just a little bit lonely these days.”
“Aren’t you seeing anyone?” Mack’s rules where her mother was concerned were simple. One, the rent money continued when Andrea was sober. Two, Mack had no responsibility to ever meet another “Uncle” Anyone or rebuild a relationship with her sister. She hadn’t met her mother’s last two husbands, holding a firm line when the wedding invitations arrived.
But she’d still sent gifts. And that irked her.
“It’s just me all by my lonesome these days.” Andrea sighed. “I’m afraid I’m starting to show my age and scaring off all the eligible bachelors.”
“Are you drinking, Mom?” Some mothers and daughters talked about work or dinner recipes or books or kids. Mack monitored her mother’s sobriety.
“Ofcoursenot. Sober as a judge, darlin’.”
She was too far removed anymore to tell lie from truth over the phone. And in Andrea’s mind, sometimes there wasn’t a difference.
“In fact, we’ve got more to celebrate than my little ol’ birthday. I got my one-year chip last week,” Andrea said, back to chipper.
“Congratulations, Mom,” Mack said, calling up the calendar on her desktop.
No new stepfather. No Wendy. And no drunken tantrums.
She could probably get away for a few days. Three max. And then she could put off the next visit for another two years. A reset on the guilt button.
“You can stay here in the guest room. And maybe you could take me out for a nice dinner?” Andrea’s voice rose hopefully.
