Page 87 of Just for Tonight

“Yes.”

“But wouldn’t it be better to be on the lake, rather than looking at it?”

“Of course, but I don’t have time right now.”

“When will you have time?”

I sigh. Time is not something I have in abundance. “That is the question.”

Mackenzie laughs. “Maybe you should make time for what you want. Get your boat now, Jake, and get out there. Give yourself a day off once in a while.”

It sounds good but it’s a fantasy. “Maybe once the estate is settled.”

“So, there’s a difference between us,” she says. “I want to follow my dreams so much that I won’t compromise them. And you’re compromising your dream, holding onto it for someday, instead of following it.”

“Different kinds of dreams,” I point out, even though there’s truth in what she’s saying. “Your dreams are career related and ambitions. Mine is about leisure time. It’s pure fantasy.”

“I think they’re both about lifestyle choices. I work as many hours as you, Jake, but it doesn’t feel like it. I live at the vineyard. I walk the fields every day. This place is my consuming passion. Are numbers that important to you, or are they a means to an end? And if they are the means but not the destination, what is the goal?”

“You ask really good questions in the wee hours of Thursday morning,” I say and she laughs again.

“Sorry. Feeling philosophical tonight. Thank you, Jake. You’ve helped me decide what to do about Darcy.”

“That’s what friends are for.”

I can hear her smile. “Yes. And thanks for being my friend.”

“Right back at you.”

We bask in the glow of mutual admiration for a moment before I realize what she said. “Wait a minute. Wait a minute. You just called him Darcy.”

“Because it’s his name.”

“No. No! His name is not really Darcy!”

“It is.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. And once I start, I can’t stop. I’m dying and, in a heartbeat, Mackenzie is laughing along with me.

“I knew it,” she says, pretending to be furious. “I knew you would make a joke of it.”

“I don’t have to. It’s already funny.”

“I know.” She sobers and her voice drops. “I imagined your reaction as soon as I was introduced.”

My laughter stops at that. She was thinking of me when she met her mom’s choice.

That’s a lot. I’m insanely pleased but also troubled.

“I need to be less predictable,” I say gruffly instead of digging into that.

Mackenzie laughs. “Maybe more spontaneous,” she says and I’m startled. “Wasn’t that what you wanted?”

“Of course.” But she’s right. I’m not spontaneous. My routine is set in concrete. My life is more regimented than it would have been with Chelsea.

She would have booked annual vacations, at least.

What the fuck am I doing? I stand there and look around the condo I wanted more than life itself, the view that is really just taunting me with what I’m not doing, and can’t think of one thing to say to the only person who might understand.