Page 52 of The Player's Club
ELODIE
I could tell Mac was distracted. He wasn’t his usual flirtatious self.
Sure, he’d kissed me after we’d sat down in a quiet corner of the Japanese restaurant, but he was too quiet, and his answers to my questions were vague. It was like his head was in an entirely different place.
My insecurities wondered if he was tired of me. Was he finding the courage to break things off? Was this over before it really started? Paranoia began to consume me. The longer he didn’t say anything, the more worried I became. Fear of losing him made me realize how much I liked him. How I was actually growing to care for him, even if that was dangerous. Moreover, I still had so much to learn about him. And me, for that matter, too. It felt like I’d just gotten onto this path of self-discovery, and I wasn’t ready for it to end so soon.
When I was anxious, I tended to be jumpy. So when the server leaned down to set an appetizer in front of me and my mind was still lost in thought, I nearly knocked over my glass of water. Luckily, the server caught it just in time.
“Whoa there!” He smiled. “You okay?”
I let out an unsteady laugh. “Sorry. Yeah, sure, yeah.”
When the server disappeared, I looked at Mac and realized he barely noticed the exchange.
Maybe he regretted inviting me to dinner with his parents? I took in Mac’s expression as if I was trying to crack a secret code. But Mac wasn’t giving anything away. He looked tired, and when I’d asked him about it, he’d attributed it to not sleeping well the night before. Other than that, he just seemed sort of—far away.
We hadn’t seen each other since Idaho. Maybe his parents called him after and told him they hated me. Would Mac care about their opinion? Jesus, I was starting to spiral. I was grateful when the server returned with a fresh plate of edamame that could distract us both.
My hunger somewhat abated, I gathered my courage. “Are you okay?” I asked.
Mac smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, why?”
“You seem like you’ve got something on your mind. You’ve barely said a word to me all night.”
Underneath the table, I twisted my fingers so hard that I had to force myself to stop. I pushed my hands under my thighs to keep them still. But that only made me dig my nails into the booth upholstery.
“Is it about your parents?” I asked.
Mac sighed. “How could you tell?”
“Well, you all definitely seemed tense around each other. It was clear you didn’t want to be at dinner, and I’m getting that same feeling now—that you would rather be anywhere than here.”
“Shit, no. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”
“Do you want to talk about how you felt after seeing them?”
“Not really.” Mac scraped the meat from an edamame pod with his teeth and tossed the shell into the bowl, looking disgusted. “I told you I’ve always had tickets for them, but this is the first time they actually attended.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“And then my dad acts the way he did. Why ask us out for dinner if he was just gonna be an asshole? He’s always hated me.”
I felt my eyes widen. “Your dad hates you?”
Mac looked embarrassed. “Okay, maybe not hate. But he’s always treated me like I was fucked in the head. I never was the golden boy he wanted.”
Bitterness dripped from Mac’s voice. I took his hand and squeezed it. “Your dad is wrong, you know. You’re not fucked in the head.”
Mac let out a bitter laugh. “You’re sweet. But you have no idea. Not really.”
I could sense Mac wanted to say more, so I waited, giving him space even though the silence was uncomfortable. When the server came by to serve us our sushi, I nearly shot out of my seat to tell him to go away.
“My mom called me the other day,” Mac said heavily. “A family friend . . . she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. It’s stage 4. She only has months to live.”
That was probably the last thing I was expecting him to say.
“Jesus. I’m sorry.”