Page 103 of Last Wish Wedding

“Leave the rest,” Mac said eventually, taking a stack of plates from her hands. “The cleaning service will handle it tomorrow.”

When Kelsey relinquished the dishes, she was suddenly aware of how tired she was.

“I think I’ll head up,” she said, gesturing vaguely toward the stairs.

Mac nodded but made no move toward the staircase. Instead, he crossed to the cabinet and withdrew the bottle of Truman’s favorite whiskey. “One more toast? For Grandad?”

Something in his voice made refusal impossible. “Of course.”

He poured two fingers into each of two crystal tumblers and handed one to her. They stood in the center of the living room, glasses raised to the memory of the man who had, in his own way, brought them together.

“To Truman,” Mac said simply.

“To Truman,” she echoed, and the whiskey burned a warm path down her throat.

Silence settled between them, not entirely uncomfortable but weighted with unspoken words. Mac wandered to the large windows overlooking the bay, where the last of the firework smoke drifted across the night sky over the dark, endless bay.

“I’m leaving the day after tomorrow,” Mac said, his voice low.

Kelsey gripped the back of the sofa, knuckles white. Even with the knowledge lurking in every quiet moment these past weeks, hearing it aloud felt like a wave breaking over her.

“For how long?” she managed.

“I don’t know.” The words were heavier than the gathering dusk. “Maybe months. Maybe longer.”

Silence expanded to fill the room. Outside, the fog gathered in the hollows of the lawn, and the house felt colder, emptier.

Longer than months meant seasons. Years, even. The reality of what had always been an abstract concept suddenly crystallized.

“And when were you going to tell Noah?” Kelsey said, voice tight. “Or were you hoping I’d do the explaining when he wakes up and you’re gone?”

Mac’s shoulders stiffened. “I thought it would be easier for him.”

“Easier for you, you mean.” The accusation slipped out, sharp and unplanned, and she instantly regretted it. But she didn’t take it back.

When Mac turned, the weariness in his eyes was almost worse than anger. “I’m not good at this, Kelsey. Goodbyes. Staying. Any of it.”

“You’re better at it than you think.” She swallowed, fighting for composure. “But if you’re going, then go. Don’t make Noah—or me—wait for the other shoe to drop.”

The wind rattled the windows. Somewhere in the distance, the lighthouse beam swept across the bay—steady, persistent, a promise of safe passage or of warning, depending on your direction.

Kelsey set her glass down with deliberate care. “He deserves a proper goodbye, Mac. Not just waking up to find you gone.”

“You’re right.” Mac ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration she’d come to recognize. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow, when he gets back from Tyler’s.”

“And what am I supposed to tell him when he asks when you’re coming back?” Kelsey asked, unable to keep the edge from her voice.

Mac was silent for a long moment. “Tell him the truth. That I don’t know.”

“Are you coming back?”

He moved closer then, his face shaded in the dim light of the room. “I don’t know. That’s the honest answer. I don’t know what I’m looking for out there, or if I’ll find it. I don’t know if what I’m running from will follow me.”

She had no answer for that. Instead, she stepped closer and brushed her lips against his in a whisper of a kiss.

Looking down at her, his eyes darkened and flared, his mouth finding hers with a hunger that matched the need that had been building inside her for days. Her body arched into his, hands sliding into his hair to hold him closer.

The kiss deepened, desperation threading through desire. They had been here before, using physical connection when words failed, but this felt more urgent, as if they were both aware of the closing window of time.