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“His initials are ML.”
Well, shit. She did know. “What makes you think that?”
“He’s the only single one of your brother’s friends. It was a simple process of elimination.”
Jenny had common sense, not a third eye. That was reassuring.
Maybe. It would have been satisfying to hear that she’d seen MacKay eyeing me with naked desire. Smoldering, relentless desire, like we were in a Bridgerton ballroom.
Instead, it seemed she’d just done basic math. I debated leaving it right there and neither confirming nor denying, but I didn’t lie to my mother.
“Fine. Yes, we might have kissed at the wedding.” There was no way in hell though I was admitting to my mother that I’d had sex with him, not once, not twice, but three times that afternoon and night. That was some major TMI. “But it doesn’t matter, because he’s had almost three months to get in touch with me and he hasn’t.”
Actually seventy-one days, but who was counting?
The dumb blonde, that’s who. Me. Sighing, I typed in “football themed clothes and nursery art” and tried desperately not to look behind me.
“Faith Anne, when have you ever sat around waiting for a boy to reach out to you? Just go talk to him.”
“No, absolutely not. He can come to me.”
“Then you might be waiting a long time.”
I frowned at her. “Mama! That was rude. If this is a pep talk, it sucks.”
She laughed. “Sorry, they didn’t come out the way I meant it to. I did hear he’s recently out of a bad relationship. He might be damaged goods, you know, a little gun shy with women.”
That made my insides twist. “It was almost a year ago. I don’t consider that recent.” Why did it matter to me? Why did any of it matter?
I turned without intending too and looked back at MacKay.
It mattered because of what he’d said to me that night.
Why are you so beautiful and interesting?
My mother was right. Faith Anne Young stood around and waited for no man.
I handed my mom a giant box wrapped in silver paper with tiny footprints on it. “Take over for me for five minutes, please.”
“Sure thing, sweetheart. Go get him.”
I took a detour by the dessert table and found what I wanted. I scooped it up and headed toward the man who haunted my stupid dreams every night.
MacKay spotted me walking toward him and for a brief second, looked like he wanted to jump out of the nearest window. Of course, he’d already done that once.
But he didn’t turn tail and run. He just locked eyes with me and waited until I was in front of him. “Hi, Faith,” he said. “They let you off gift duty?”
“I’m entitled to a five minute break per labor laws. I just wanted to say hello.” Now I was standing there and had no idea what to say.
Plus, we were in a courtyard full of people.
“It’s really good to see you,” he said. And there it was. The smoldering. It was gone in a flash, as he schooled his features back into nothing more than a polite smile.
For several painful seconds we stood there just looking at each other.
At the wedding, there had been no awkwardness between us. I blinked, desperately searching for something to say. In my head, I had stormed over here and… what? I hadn’t really imagined what would happen.
That was the problem with acting on impulse.
