glance over at Mack, who just shrugs. “I mentioned you were the one who told me to check the fuel pump.” He glances at his best friend and adds, “You better keep your hands to yourself.” Even though his voice is stern, he throws him a wink.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Fish hollers right before revving the engine. “You coming?” he asks, looking my way.
I’m already moving before he even finishes asking. The car is old and can use some serious interior work, but I can tell it’s his pride and joy. He’s practically vibrating with excitement as he carefully pulls out of the garage and heads for the street. Fish stops the car and glances my way. “Ready?” he asks.
As soon as I nod, he floors the gas and presses the brake. The result is a loud, long burnout that chirps the tires before darting forward. I’m laughing, the wind blowing my hair, and loving the feel of freedom from the engine vibrations beneath my feet. We fly through the streets, driving over the speed limit, but not at a dangerous pace. He only drives around the neighborhood before pointing us back to the house.
Right before we turn into the driveway, I say, “Thank you for taking me on her first ride.”
He stops the car in the street and glances my way. “Thank you for making my friend happy again, Lena.” It’s hard to swallow over the sudden golf ball lodged in my throat. He raises up his hands and adds, “I know you can’t stay, darlin’. Whatever your reason, I’m sure it’s valid. Just know he’s a better man when you’re with him.”
And then he turns the car onto the driveway and parks it in front of one of the back garage bays. Mack and the guys are there, grinning from ear to ear, as we get out.
“How’d she run?” Mack asks, slowly bouncing Oliver in his arms.
“Like a dream. I need to tune ‘er up a little yet, but she’s almost there,” Fish replies, tapping the hood of the car. Then he turns to me and adds, “Thanks for the ride, Lena. I won’t tell anyone about the kiss.” He throws me a wink before ducking behind Chief, hiding from the wrath of his best friend. Everyone laughs and goes about cleaning up the shop.
The guys take off a little later, leaving just Mack, Oliver, and me. The baby is in the swing again, which might be his favorite place to be, besides in our arms. Mack comes down the stairs in a pair of shorts and clean T-shirt. “Wanna go for a walk?”
“Sure,” I reply, hopping up and going to grab the small bag I use for carrying an emergency stash of Oliver’s needs on our walks. I grab my camera too, my trusty old Nikon, and slip the strap around my neck. By the time I’m out front, Mack has Oliver in the stroller and they’re ready to go.
We walk through the neighborhood, waving at an older couple who lives three houses down. I keep glancing at Mack, at the powerful forearms pushing the stroller and his incredibly toned and tanned legs. My foot catches on a crack in the sidewalk, almost causing me to take a tumble. I blush a horrible shade of red when my eyes meet Mack’s. He knows my attention was not in front of me, but to the side. To the sexy man pushing a baby stroller down the sidewalk.
I lift my camera up, snapping picture after picture of Oliver and Mack together. I make sure to take a few of the landscaping around us so it doesn’t appear I’m just photographing the hot dad and his baby, but I’m pretty sure he’s on to my game.
When we reach home—his home—we work together to bathe and play with Oliver. We watch television and snuggle on the couch until it’s time for the little one’s last bottle before bedtime. Mack rocks him to sleep in the chair, and I capture it all on film. These are memories I’m probably going to look back on whenever I start to feel lonely.
There’s no doubt about it: the loneliness is coming.
The moment I get home.
After we each shower and prepare for bed, we curl up together, as we’ve done these last few nights. Mack is sleeping before me, his soft snore filling the bedroom. My heart is breaking as the minutes tick by, slowly leading us to the end.