Stumbling into Love
Page 21
He grins. “Okay, a hundred thousand times.”
“Whatever.” I blow a strand of hair out of my face.
He runs his thumbs across my cheeks.
“Worst-case scenario, my mom hates you. So I never talk to her again.”
“Your mom wouldn’t be very happy with that plan, sugar pants,” a woman says from behind me.
I close my eyes and groan internally, realizing the woman is his mom.
I force myself to open my eyes, then turn with Wesley to face his mom and her husband. I don’t know what I was expecting his mom to look like, but the blonde standing across from me who looks a lot like Michelle Pfeiffer wasn’t it.
Letting me go, Wesley greets them with a joint hug before stepping back and placing his arm around my waist.
“Mom, I’d like you to meet Mackenzie. Mackenzie, my mom, Monica.”
She smiles at him before looking at me.
“It’s so nice to meet you.” I stick out my hand.
Her eyes drop to my outstretched hand, and she rolls them before pulling me in for a tight hug, saying close to my ear, “We don’t shake hands.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” I whisper as her arms tighten around me.
“You too,” she whispers back, letting me go and taking her husband’s hand. “Mac?” She pauses, tipping her head to the side, studying me briefly. “Can I call you Mac?”
“Of course. Everyone does—except Wesley,” I say.
His arm wraps around my shoulder, and his lips touch the top of my head.
“Mac, this is my husband, Peter.”
“Nice to meet you, Peter.” I smile and try to give him a handshake, but once more I’m pulled in for an unexpected hug.
“Nice to meet you, Mac.”
“You too,” I agree as he lets me go.
“How many bags did you bring, Mom?” Wesley asks as he tucks me right back under his arm.
“Just two,” she says.
Peter clears his throat.
She glares at him. “Fine, three. But one of them doesn’t even count—all it has in it is my makeup and meds.”
“What about my bag? You took up all its space by shoving your shoes in there.”
“You can’t complain about that now. You should have complained when we were home and I was doing it. Now it’s too late.”
“I’m not complaining, doll, just pointing out that you have a lot more stuff than you say you do.”
“Well, I had to bring gifts for my son and his girlfriend.”
My eyes widen. I haven’t gotten her anything for Christmas. Thank goodness I still have a shopping trip planned with Libby and Fawn for tomorrow. It’s something we’ve done every year since we were old enough to go out on our own.
“Let’s go see if your bags have come out. While we wait, you can tell us about your flight,” Wesley suggests, leading us all toward baggage claim.
He keeps a tight hold on my hand—he’s probably more afraid now than ever that I’m going to take off on him. To be honest, for once I’m not thinking about it. All I can think about is the fact that Wesley has made it a point to remind me over and over that I mean something to him and that he has chosen me and will keep on choosing me.
“Are you doing okay?” he asks against my ear.
I tip my head back to look at him and smile. “Totally okay.” I squeeze his fingers, then lean back against him.
I listen as his mom tells us about their trip, and I do it smiling, too.
Chapter 8
THE GIFT THAT KEEPS ON GIVING
MAC
I knock on Miss Ina’s door. I wait for her to answer for a minute, then knock again and press my ear to the door to see if I can hear her coming. I haven’t seen her in a few days, and I’m honestly a little worried. “Miss Ina?” I knock again.
“Child, if you don’t stop knocking on my door and give me a few minutes to walk across the room to answer it, I’m going to beat you with my walker when I open it up,” she grouches.
I let out a relieved breath and smile.
“Hurry up!” I shout.
I hear her huff on the other side, which makes my smile even bigger.
“Why did I have to come along for this?” Libby asks.
She’s next to me, standing with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Because I thought it would be nice if you were here when we invite her over to Christmas dinner. She’s alone.”
“She really did put a spell on you, didn’t she?”
“I told you. I like her.” I shrug, then knock again just to annoy Ina.
“What’s so important that you need to wake me from my afternoon nap?” Miss Ina answers as she finally opens the door.
I grin, then give her a hug that she tries to pull away from. I don’t let her get far.
“You’re coming with us on Christmas.”
“No, I’m not.” She shakes her head and attempts to shut the door, but I block it with my foot before she can.
“Yes, you are. I even ordered us a car service for the morning of so we don’t have to take the train out to Long Island.”
“Child, I’m staying home on Christmas. Now go on.” She tries to shoo us away.
Before, that might have worked, but now I know that she’s a big softie. I’m not going anywhere.
“Miss Ina, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but the day you made me tea and let me cry on your shoulder and then sleep on your couch is the day you and I became friends. I don’t let my friends sit alone at home on Christmas, so Christmas morning you will be coming with me and Libby to our parents’ house—even if I have to break into your apartment and drag you with me.”
I smile, and she glares at me. Then she glares at Libby.
“I should call the law on you two for harassing me.”
“Do it.” I raise a brow, and she huffs again.
Libby tenses at my side, not knowing that the woman is all bark and no bite.
“Fine,” Miss Ina says, finally giving in. “I’ll come—but only because I want to.” She shakes her head as she starts to shut the door again, but I move my foot back in to block it again.
“Promise me.” I hold out my pinkie toward her.
“I should have left you to cry in the hall,” she says.
I don’t move anything more than one eyebrow, which I raise.
“Fine. I promise.” She slaps my hand, then slams the door.
“She’s still scary,” Libby says, taking my arm and pulling me along with her.
“I heard that! I’m glad you think so, seeing how your sister’s forgotten!” Miss Ina shouts through the door.
I laugh along with Libby as we head up the stairs to our apartment.
After entering, I kick off my shoes and sigh. “It feels like I haven’t been here in forever,” I say as we plop down on the couch next to each other. I haven’t been home for weeks. I’ve been spending all my time with Wesley, but with his mom and stepdad sleeping in his bed while he’s on the couch, I won’t be staying with him again until after Christmas.
“You haven’t, and it’s a lot quieter without you around,” Libby says.
I look at her and instantly feel guilty for not having been home much.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Honestly, it’s been nice.” She smirks. “Do you think that you and Wesley are going to move in together sometime soon?” she asks, sounding way too hopeful. I pick up one of the pillows and hit her with it, making her laugh. “Seriously, though. What are you guys planning on doing?”
“I don’t know. It will probably be a while before we take that step. Our relationship has been moving too quickly from the beginning, and I think that we need some time to get to know each other before we make any big commitments.”
“That’s probably smart, but then again, you have been with him every day and every night. It doesn’t make sense to live here, paying rent, while spending all your time there with him.”
“True.” I hug the pillow to my chest. “But if I was to move out, do you think you could afford this place on your own?”
“Whatever.” I blow a strand of hair out of my face.
He runs his thumbs across my cheeks.
“Worst-case scenario, my mom hates you. So I never talk to her again.”
“Your mom wouldn’t be very happy with that plan, sugar pants,” a woman says from behind me.
I close my eyes and groan internally, realizing the woman is his mom.
I force myself to open my eyes, then turn with Wesley to face his mom and her husband. I don’t know what I was expecting his mom to look like, but the blonde standing across from me who looks a lot like Michelle Pfeiffer wasn’t it.
Letting me go, Wesley greets them with a joint hug before stepping back and placing his arm around my waist.
“Mom, I’d like you to meet Mackenzie. Mackenzie, my mom, Monica.”
She smiles at him before looking at me.
“It’s so nice to meet you.” I stick out my hand.
Her eyes drop to my outstretched hand, and she rolls them before pulling me in for a tight hug, saying close to my ear, “We don’t shake hands.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” I whisper as her arms tighten around me.
“You too,” she whispers back, letting me go and taking her husband’s hand. “Mac?” She pauses, tipping her head to the side, studying me briefly. “Can I call you Mac?”
“Of course. Everyone does—except Wesley,” I say.
His arm wraps around my shoulder, and his lips touch the top of my head.
“Mac, this is my husband, Peter.”
“Nice to meet you, Peter.” I smile and try to give him a handshake, but once more I’m pulled in for an unexpected hug.
“Nice to meet you, Mac.”
“You too,” I agree as he lets me go.
“How many bags did you bring, Mom?” Wesley asks as he tucks me right back under his arm.
“Just two,” she says.
Peter clears his throat.
She glares at him. “Fine, three. But one of them doesn’t even count—all it has in it is my makeup and meds.”
“What about my bag? You took up all its space by shoving your shoes in there.”
“You can’t complain about that now. You should have complained when we were home and I was doing it. Now it’s too late.”
“I’m not complaining, doll, just pointing out that you have a lot more stuff than you say you do.”
“Well, I had to bring gifts for my son and his girlfriend.”
My eyes widen. I haven’t gotten her anything for Christmas. Thank goodness I still have a shopping trip planned with Libby and Fawn for tomorrow. It’s something we’ve done every year since we were old enough to go out on our own.
“Let’s go see if your bags have come out. While we wait, you can tell us about your flight,” Wesley suggests, leading us all toward baggage claim.
He keeps a tight hold on my hand—he’s probably more afraid now than ever that I’m going to take off on him. To be honest, for once I’m not thinking about it. All I can think about is the fact that Wesley has made it a point to remind me over and over that I mean something to him and that he has chosen me and will keep on choosing me.
“Are you doing okay?” he asks against my ear.
I tip my head back to look at him and smile. “Totally okay.” I squeeze his fingers, then lean back against him.
I listen as his mom tells us about their trip, and I do it smiling, too.
Chapter 8
THE GIFT THAT KEEPS ON GIVING
MAC
I knock on Miss Ina’s door. I wait for her to answer for a minute, then knock again and press my ear to the door to see if I can hear her coming. I haven’t seen her in a few days, and I’m honestly a little worried. “Miss Ina?” I knock again.
“Child, if you don’t stop knocking on my door and give me a few minutes to walk across the room to answer it, I’m going to beat you with my walker when I open it up,” she grouches.
I let out a relieved breath and smile.
“Hurry up!” I shout.
I hear her huff on the other side, which makes my smile even bigger.
“Why did I have to come along for this?” Libby asks.
She’s next to me, standing with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Because I thought it would be nice if you were here when we invite her over to Christmas dinner. She’s alone.”
“She really did put a spell on you, didn’t she?”
“I told you. I like her.” I shrug, then knock again just to annoy Ina.
“What’s so important that you need to wake me from my afternoon nap?” Miss Ina answers as she finally opens the door.
I grin, then give her a hug that she tries to pull away from. I don’t let her get far.
“You’re coming with us on Christmas.”
“No, I’m not.” She shakes her head and attempts to shut the door, but I block it with my foot before she can.
“Yes, you are. I even ordered us a car service for the morning of so we don’t have to take the train out to Long Island.”
“Child, I’m staying home on Christmas. Now go on.” She tries to shoo us away.
Before, that might have worked, but now I know that she’s a big softie. I’m not going anywhere.
“Miss Ina, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but the day you made me tea and let me cry on your shoulder and then sleep on your couch is the day you and I became friends. I don’t let my friends sit alone at home on Christmas, so Christmas morning you will be coming with me and Libby to our parents’ house—even if I have to break into your apartment and drag you with me.”
I smile, and she glares at me. Then she glares at Libby.
“I should call the law on you two for harassing me.”
“Do it.” I raise a brow, and she huffs again.
Libby tenses at my side, not knowing that the woman is all bark and no bite.
“Fine,” Miss Ina says, finally giving in. “I’ll come—but only because I want to.” She shakes her head as she starts to shut the door again, but I move my foot back in to block it again.
“Promise me.” I hold out my pinkie toward her.
“I should have left you to cry in the hall,” she says.
I don’t move anything more than one eyebrow, which I raise.
“Fine. I promise.” She slaps my hand, then slams the door.
“She’s still scary,” Libby says, taking my arm and pulling me along with her.
“I heard that! I’m glad you think so, seeing how your sister’s forgotten!” Miss Ina shouts through the door.
I laugh along with Libby as we head up the stairs to our apartment.
After entering, I kick off my shoes and sigh. “It feels like I haven’t been here in forever,” I say as we plop down on the couch next to each other. I haven’t been home for weeks. I’ve been spending all my time with Wesley, but with his mom and stepdad sleeping in his bed while he’s on the couch, I won’t be staying with him again until after Christmas.
“You haven’t, and it’s a lot quieter without you around,” Libby says.
I look at her and instantly feel guilty for not having been home much.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Honestly, it’s been nice.” She smirks. “Do you think that you and Wesley are going to move in together sometime soon?” she asks, sounding way too hopeful. I pick up one of the pillows and hit her with it, making her laugh. “Seriously, though. What are you guys planning on doing?”
“I don’t know. It will probably be a while before we take that step. Our relationship has been moving too quickly from the beginning, and I think that we need some time to get to know each other before we make any big commitments.”
“That’s probably smart, but then again, you have been with him every day and every night. It doesn’t make sense to live here, paying rent, while spending all your time there with him.”
“True.” I hug the pillow to my chest. “But if I was to move out, do you think you could afford this place on your own?”
