Page 72 of One Last Summer
“I know what you’re trying to get me to say, Mackenzie Sullivan,” I said, reaching down to grab my mug of coffee off the deck. I picked a tiny fly out of it before taking a slow, deliberate sip. His eyes never left my face.
“Wow, Millen, you really do know me well,” he said, chuckling.
“And also yes, something did set me off, but not what you’re getting at.”
He tilted his mug toward me with a nod, giving me room to vent. His face was so open, inviting. I was amazed at how willing he was simply to listen. He didn’t seem to fear my vulnerability, and this realization unleashed an overwhelming sense of relief inside of me.
I felt safe with him.
I didn’t want Saturday to be the end of this, of us.
“So,” I said finally. “I sent my boss—”
“Burnout boss?” he interrupted.
“Yes.” I chuckled, taking another sip. “That one. Her name’s Amaya.”
“One sec,” he said, gesturing at me to pause as he stood and positioned his chair precisely, so that he faced me instead of the lake.
“Okay, I’m ready.” He crossed his legs and brought the mug to his mouth, watching me with his full attention like a late-night TV show host.
“We have this huge pitch next Friday, and it’s been a total bust so far,” I explained, my voice speeding up into a fast, clipped staccato, like it always did when I was frustrated by something and couldn’t fix it. “But I had this epiphany the other night.”
“Right. You told me about it on the boat.” Mack leaned in a little closer so that our knees kissed and then wrapped his free hand around my calves, urging my feet up into his lap.
“I sent her—Burnout Boss—this creative idea that I had, that would totally ace this pitch. Outlined it in way too much detail. But that’s how excited I was about it! It just seems like something this client would love. In my opinion, anyway.”
“You’re brilliant. I’m sure they would love it.” He said this like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and his unconditional vote of confidence left me feeling warm and fuzzy.
“Well, you’ve never seen me at work, but thank you. Anyway, she blew me off. Had her assistant respond to my message and said she won’t talk about it until I’m back in the office next week. Which, honestly, feels too late. We normally float our general ideas by clients before our big meeting. This is just putting us on a terribly shitty deadline.”
Mack rubbed the back of his neck in thought. “Okay.”
“She’s tossing me a roadblock, just to prove her point.”
“Which is?” he asked.
“That I should be on vacation, and not working this week.”
Mack chuckled as he pressed his thumb into the arch of my foot, gently massaging it. “I agree with her, but I also know you.”
“What does that mean?” I asked. “And before you answer, please remember that my foot is dangerously close to your groin right now, so tread carefully.”
Mack lifted his hands in self-defense with a laugh. “What I mean is, you’re the person who showed up here for the first time in five years and then immediately kicked my ass in a swim race.”
“But my Capture the Flag plan was a bust,” I countered.
“Oh yeah, your plan was terrible,” he agreed, sliding his hand down my ankle as I pretended to jerk my foot at him. “But we wouldn’t have even played if it wasn’t for you making us do it.”
“Hmm.” I tapped my lip thoughtfully. “I’m still debating whether or not I should kick you in the—”
“What I’m saying is,” he interjected, “just send it to the client. You’re in charge of the account, right?”
“Technically, I will be, if we land it. And if I don’t fuck up at work anymore.”
Amaya’s words echoed in my mind. In order for the pitch to be better, I need you to be better.
“So what do you have to lose?” he asked, softly tracing a figure eight around my ankle bone. “Screw your boss. If you believe in it, send it. Be brave.”
