Page 69 of Naked Coffee Guy

“We were afraid,” my father returns, “It’s no excuse. We should have sought help, put you in a program, done whatever we could to help you. I’ve always said, family comes first. But when faced with the ultimate test, I failed. I thought I needed to bar you from our home to keep us safe. But I failed to keep you safe in the process, and for that, I will forever be sorry.”

My father is crying. I have never seen this man show weakness in his life, unless masked with anger. But now, his vulnerability reaches for me, pleads with me, and I answer the call. I move from Mac’s reassuring touch and enter the uncertainty of my father’s arms.

This isn’t fixed. I know this, even as I pull away and smile at both my parents through my tears. Even as I tug Lydia to me again and she leans into me, her arm around my waist. This is a moment, a steppingstone toward healing. But we have a long way to go before any of this is mended completely. Maybe it will never be completely mended. Maybe it will just be different than before, more cautious. After all, I’ve changed—and they have too.

We have years and years to get to know each other and build a new kind of family.

I step back and take Mac’s hand. “Mac, you know Lydia.” I wink at her, and she rolls her eyes, probably thinking about how she puked by the side of his car. “And these are my parents, Manny and Isabella Huerta. Dad, Mom, this is Mac, my…” I pause, looking at him. I’m brought back to the night of the concert, when Mac told me I was his and he was mine, and it was as simple as that. Months later, here we are, and it’s as simple as that.

“Mac is mine, and I am his,” I finish, looking at him. He squeezes my hand, his eyes softening toward me before he turns to my father.

“It’s nice to meet you under better circumstances this time.” Mac’s voice is tight, and I know it will take him a while to trust my dad. I don’t even trust my dad. But in Mac’s face, I see his vow to keep me safe, and this is something I can believe in.

If I was fooling myself before, I can’t now. I’m falling for him, this man who doesn’t mince words, who has my back, who would move mountains for me.

“All right, all right, schmooze fest over,” Nina says as she approaches, towing Claire and Finn behind her, followed by a woman I’ve never met before. “I’m sure you all have a lot of catching up to do, but this family reunion needs to wait. Maren, I’d like you to meet Phaedra Collins.” My brassy ex-roommate gives a dramatic pause, eyebrows raised meaningfully. “A record producer with Starboard Sounds.”

It takes everything in me to not melt into a pile of goo as I shake Phaedra’s hand and offer a stumbling greeting. I’m very familiar with Starboard Sounds, and I recognize Phaedra Collins’s name. Truth be told, Starboard is kind of a dream producer for me, but I’ve never sent them any samples. I told myself I was waiting until I’d recorded more songs and had more experience, but truthfully, I was afraid of blowing my shot too soon and never getting another chance. It was safer to never contact them than to seek their representation and be denied.

Now, Phaedra Collins stands before me, her business card extended in her hand.

“You know Lacey Tanner, right?” she asks as I take her card. I glance at it, just to make sure it’s real. It is.

“Dylan’s mom, right?” I look toward the table in the back, spotting Lacey talking with a few of the other music moms. She looks toward me and breaks into a wide grin, then gives a thumbs up.

“Right. Dylan is my nephew, and Lacey is my sister-in-law. She told me how you’ve been giving Dylan music lessons, and I’m impressed with what he’s learned in such a short time.”

“Dylan makes it easy,” I say, “The talent is all his, I just help him tap into it.”

“Well, whatever you’re doing, it’s working. And what you’re doing on stage, that’s more than incredible. You write your own songs and music?”

I nod. “I play covers too. It helps the crowd to know a few songs to get them warmed up.”

“I can’t believe I haven’t heard you before. But Lacey gave me your sample, and I’ve been playing it on repeat ever since. I don’t know where you’re at with your music, but if you want to take it further, I’d love to be the one in your corner.”

I look to Nina, whose beaming smile is as bright as the afternoon sun. I look at Mac, who appears to be waiting for my answer.

“Hija,” my mother breathes, and I’m more than grateful my family is here for this. They missed so much of my life, but now they get to see a brand-new beginning, one that could change everything.

“Are you asking me to sign with you?” I ask, just to be sure.

“Well, there’s a lot of paperwork before we make it official, but yes. I want you to be a part of Starboard Sounds, and I personally want to be the one that helps steer your music career into the spotlight, where it deserves to be. Maren, you’re a star.”

Inside, I’m dying. Literally dying. Like, my heart could fall out of my chest at any moment, it’s beating so fast. But on the outside, I rein it in with a smile and try not to gush too much as I shake her hand.

“Yes. Absolutely,” I say, and laugh as everyone around me cheers. My people. Everyone who means something to me.

“You did it, baby,” Mac says, once everyone has gone back to their seats and I’m back at the stage. I’ve taken a much longer break than anticipated, definitely longer than five minutes. But under the circumstances, it’s fine. It’s more than fine.

Mac presses his lips to mine. “I’m so proud of you, and it’s so much more than record labels and stage presence and even how you handled your father. I’m proud of who you are and how you make me feel being around you and how fucking strong you are.” He pauses, taking my face in his hands as he looks into my eyes. “Maren Huerta, I love you. I think I’ve always loved you. But in this moment, I love you more than ever, and though it’s hard to imagine, I know I’ll love you more every day you let me love you.”

I place my hands over his, the emotion in his eyes and in his words mirrored in my own heart. Those three words are so little compared to what I’m feeling now, but I say them anyway. “I love you, too. Once we can finally get out of here, I plan to show you how much I love you all night long.”

Mac growls, then nips my lip with his teeth. If we didn’t have a whole crowd watching us, I know he’d smack my butt. But he restrains himself. I on the other hand, do not, and land my hand firmly on the stiff denim covering his fine ass. “Later, gator,” I say, and he shakes his head at me.

“What the fuck am I going to do with you?” he asks.

Months ago, on a rooftop bar under a maroon sky, Mac held my face and asked me the same question, and I never got the chance to give him an answer. This time is different.