Page 189 of The Path to Loving Him
Well, Mac surely knows how to lift you, only to squash you back down. I’m not sure where Mac is learning all of this. I might need to have another conversation with my sisters.
“Can you ask her to play?”
“I don’t want to really bother her, Mac. She might be doing something.”
Her cute brow knits together again. “Do you not like Gabby?”
Quite the opposite actually. I like her a lot. I like her so much that I’m trying to navigate me wanting her around all the time and you not growing attached to her in case something happens, like . . . me messing up this entire thing.
“No, I like her.”
“It doesn’t seem like you like her.”
“I like her, Mac.”
“Then can you please ask her to come play?” She bats her eyelashes and Christ I’m such a fucking sucker when it comes to this girl.
I’m trying to be tough and set boundaries here, but she is destroying them one eyelash bat at a time.
Grumbling under my breath, I pull my phone from my pocket and say, “Eat your green beans.”
“Only if you text her.”
I lift a brow. “Nice try, but that’s not how this works. Only way she’s going to come over is if you eat your?—”
Mac fists the green beans on her plate and shoves them all in her mouth at the same time. Cheeks puffed, she chews and smiles at me.
For the love of God.
“Do not choke. Gabby won’t come over if you choke.”
Mac just keeps chewing, and that’s when I open my text messages with Gabby and come face to face with her naked body and her pasta.
Fuck . . . I forgot.
Not that I want to, because hell, I’d keep this picture forever, but with my luck, Mac would look over my shoulder and see it, so I delete the picture from the thread and text her.
Ryland:Think you could put clothes on your gorgeous body and come over here to play with my niece? She’s requesting your presence.
I look over at Mac, who’s still chewing and has the rest of her green beans in her hand.
“Why are we not using a fork?” I ask her.
“Godzilla doesn’t use forks,” she says as I get a text back.
“I thought I was Godzilla.”
“You’re . . . uh . . . you’re Godzilla Plus.”
“What’s the difference between Godzilla and Godzilla Plus?” I ask, truly curious.
“Godzilla Plus cries when stabbed.”
My face falls flat. Well, maybe if Godzilla didn’t stab Godzilla Plus in the testicles, Godzilla Plus wouldn’t cry.
I glance down at my phone and read Gabby’s text.
Gabby:She is? That’s cute, but . . . do you want me to come over? I know we’re trying to keep the distance.
