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But what was it all worth when even her fantasies turned ugly?
A sigh escaped her lips, misting the small oval window beside her. She felt like a fairytale princess, locked inside a tall tower. The villain was not a dragon or a wicked stepmother, but the cage of her own making. A brick wall hiding her desires and fear, keeping her from stepping out into the sunlight again.
Makenzie closed her eyes, leaning back as the plane chased the horizon. With each mile, she was far from the life she knew and closer to the unknown. To Irish. He’s her brother’s best friend. He was a teenager when she was little and treated her better than her own brother, who teased her mercilessly. When she’d crashed her bike in front of Sean, Irish and a group of their friends, they all laughed at her.
Except for Irish.
He rushed over and bent down next to her. “Mak, baby. Are you okay?” His voice was a warm caress over her, and she blinked back tears, willing herself to be brave in front of him. “Let me help you up.”
“Don’t call me Mak.” She’d bit out, accepting his outreached hand. “It’s a boy’s name. No one calls me that but you.”
He'd merely smiled, helping her to stand.
Yeah, she’d crushed on him big time when she was little. Her brother’s cute best friend. Totally off limits. Their age gap was too large when they were younger. As adults, a decade wasn’t much.
Childhood was magical. They’d been privileged to have their mother as a homemaker. Every holiday the house was decorated, hot seasonal meals made with care to the details. There wasn’t any dust or clutter in their home. It was like growing up on the set of a 1960s television show. Da came homefrom work and Ma took his suit jacket from him, handing him an ice-cold drink of some sort. The same way her mother’s mother before her had done before immigrating to America.
Da worked as a financial manager for a large corporation and made an impressive salary. The running joke in the family was that out of five boys, only his daughter was proficient with numbers. Math was her favorite subject in school, and she excelled at it.
She remembered the hushed hallways of Holy Comforter, the private Catholic school where nuns had preached about duty and decorum. She'd been the youngest of the Sullivan crew. Sean, Kelly, Liam, Peter, and Mickey took their jobs as protective older brothers entirely too seriously.
Her parents' expectations had always loomed large, pushing her toward a future that felt more like a neatly tailored suit than a second skin. Accountant Makenzie, sensible and reliable, a far cry from the girl who longed to walk dogs at the local animal shelter and sing karaoke until her voice turned hoarse. They had wanted stability for her, a husband like Eugene, who was safe.
Beneath the pressed blouses and pencil skirts, Makenzie craved something else—something that whispered of polka dot skirts and bright pink shirts, of Barbie dolls and Playdough. A give and take of relinquished power and tender dominance. She thought again of Daddy J, her online Daddy, the man who had stirred awake desires she didn't know how to name. He’d been a secret chapter, one she never dared to read aloud. Instead of a happily ever after romance, she’d been in the middle of a horror film.
The pressure of propriety weighed heavily on her chest as the plane banked gently through the sky. BDSM wasn’t exactly readily accepted in her devout Catholic circles. Although, her father was definitely the head of their household, and her mother–feisty, opinionated, and intelligent–submitted to hisfinal word. Da wasn’t controlling or cruel but liked order in his home. There was never a doubt her parents loved each other. Even among the confines of order, they played and flirted. Da constantly smacked Ma’s butt as she pulled food from the oven. Kissing and hugging was a big part of their childhoods. Both watched their parents be affectionate to each other and give their affection freely to their children.
Makenzie leaned against the cool window and let the soft thrum of the engines lull her into a restless sleep. She jerked awake a while later, the gentle but insistent touch of the stewardess on her shoulder grounding her back to reality. Her eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep and the remnants of tears. The cabin was a soft hum of activity as passengers prepared for landing.
“Miss, we're about to land in Denver,” the stewardess whispered.
“Thank you,” Makenzie murmured, her voice rough from crying. She straightened up in her seat, pushing the tangled strands of hair away from her face. Her wedding gown, now creased and uncomfortable, clung to her like the life she was desperate to shed.
She grabbed her wallet, the only thing she had with her, and stepped into the aisle. As the other passengers bustled around her, Makenzie felt the weight of her decision settle over her like a cloak woven from threads of bravery and fear. Her heart raced with anxiety as she stepped off the plane. Relief, uncertainty, and guilt mixed, forming a sour taste in her mouth.
The airport swallowed her in its vastness, people streaming around her anxious to get to their next destination. Makenzie paused, taking a deep breath. Welcome to the Mile-High City, the mural on the side of the airport terminal wall read.
Her phone, now turned back on, came to life in her hand. A rock dropped from her heart into her stomach as she saw thenumber of missed calls, text messages, and voicemails awaiting her. She knew they weren’t going to be good.
Sean: Irish is at the airport waiting in the cell phone lot. Text him when you get there, and he will pull around in his F-150.
“You can do this,” she said under her breath. She quickly copied the number Sean provided.
Makenzie: Hi. I’m here.
Irish: Pulling out of the holding lot now. What are you wearing?
Makenzie looked down at her wedding gown and grimaced. She considered, for a moment, about stopping into a store and purchasing a Denver sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. But she’d need help getting out of the dress…
Makenzie: A wedding gown.
Irish: Are you joking?
Makenzie: Guess Sean didn’t tell you…
Irish: No, guess not. See you soon.
She continued to walk, one foot after another, avoiding the stares and whispers from the surrounding people. Finally reaching the automatic doors that led outside, she stepped out ofthe terminal. Cold snowflakes fell from the sky, landing on her face. Anticipation coiled in her stomach as she looked around.
