the thought of seeing Dylan. She had called Hope to say good-night and now she was standing outside his door, holding her cupcake offering. At some point, a flip had been switched and just Dylan had suddenly become Dylan. When Dylan opened the door, she thrust the box at him.
“Here.”
Dylan pulled one long-stem lavender rose from behind his back and held it out for her. “For you.”
Pleased and surprised by the romantic gesture, Mackenzie exchanged the cupcakes for the rose. She lifted the rose up to her nose and breathed in the strong, sweet scent.
“Thank you,” she said with a small smile.
“You must’ve read my mind.” Dylan stepped back so she could come inside. “I was craving your cupcakes today.”
When they reached the kitchen, Dylan immediately opened the box and grabbed a cupcake.
“Are they both for me, or do I need to share?” Dylan removed the wrapper from the first cupcake and took a large bite.
“They’re for you...”
“Hmm...always incredible.” Dylan started in on the second cupcake. “I just realized, I’ve never even bothered to ask you how you got into the cupcake business in the first place.”
Mackenzie crossed her arms protectively in front of her, those old, never-forgotten feelings of defensiveness shooting to the surface. “A lot of people ask me that. I always think that there’s a built-in insult in there...like they’re really asking why a woman with a weight problem would own a bakery...”
Dylan looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “But...that’s not what I meant.”
Ill at ease, Mackenzie tightened her arms around her body. “I’m sorry. Sometimes that old stuff creeps up out of nowhere and flies out of my mouth before I can stop it. Do you ever wish you had a rewind button on your mouth?”
“All the time.” Dylan finished the cupcake and put the box in the recycling bin. “And can we just clarify something right now? I happen to think that you’re a beautiful woman. Okay?”
“Okay.” Mackenzie nodded.
“And I really like it when you wear your hair down like that.”
“Thank you.” Mackenzie uncrossed her arms. “Do you still want to hear about the bakery?”
“Of course.”
“You remember that my mom and I used to bake cupcakes together before she died.”
Dylan nodded as she continued, “I remember her always talking about opening up a cupcake shop, but she never got the chance to do it. When I got older, making cupcakes always made me feel happy, and for some odd reason, when I work with sugar and butter, I don’t want to eat it.” Mackenzie smiled a self-effacing smile. “So, when Dad saw me floundering after high school, he offered to send me to school to get my associate’s in baking and pastry arts, which then led to a bachelor’s degree in bakery and pastry arts management.”
“And the bakery?”
“Dad’s idea. He made the initial investment, but I’m not gonna sugarcoat it...no pun intended...it’s been really tough being a single parent and running a business. After Hope’s diagnosis...” Mackenzie paused before she confessed something to Dylan that only Ray knew. “I seriously considered closing. But I have employees to think about...”
“I think you’re a really strong woman, Mackenzie. I know how hard it is to run a business.”
Mackenzie pulled a small photo album out of her tote. “I brought something for you to look at.”
“What’s that?” Dylan took the album, flipped to the first page.
Once Dylan realized it was a photo album full of Hope pictures, he slid onto a stool to get more comfortable while he looked at it.
“Look how tiny she was!” Dylan stared at Hope’s first baby picture. “‘Hope Virginia Brand, 6 pounds 4 ounces, born 3:13 a.m., August 20.ʼ”
“She was an early-morning baby.”
“How come there aren’t any pictures of you pregnant?”
“Are you kidding me? I would have killed someone if they tried to take my picture when I was pregnant! But, you know, Hope is the reason why I finally lost the weight...”
“How so?” Dylan flipped to the next page.
“After she was born, I knew that I had to get healthy. I worked really hard to lose the baby weight and then I just kept on losing. The fact that I was doing it for both of us made it easier somehow.”
“I would have liked to see you pregnant,” Dylan said. “I wish I had been able to be there when Hope was born.”
The photo album chronicled Hope’s childhood. A childhood he had missed. The little girl in these pictures was lost to him, and a feeling of loss and sadness hit him out of the blue. Dylan used his thumb and forefinger to rub unexpected tears out of his eyes and then he pinched the bridge of his nose to stop more tears from forming.
Wide-eyed, temporarily struck dumb, Mackenzie hadn’t expected this reaction from Dylan. When she had played the “photo album scene” over in her mind, she had imagined them laughing and smiling and talking about Hope. Instead, she saw grief. Not knowing what else she could do for him, Mackenzie wrapped her arms around Dylan’s shoulders. She hugged him so tightly that the muscles in her arms started to shake. He sat, like a rock, still pinching the bridge of his nose. The sorrow that Dylan felt over having missed his daughter’s life was palpable and profound. And, ultimately, she was the one to blame.
“I’m sorry,” Mackenzie repeated over and over again. “I’m so sorry.”
Dylan turned to her, reached for her and enveloped her in his arms. They clutched each other tightly, their arms entangled, their chests pressed together, their thighs touching. Without warning, Mackenzie’s own guilt, her own sorrow and her own feelings of regret overwhelmed her.
“I’m so sorry...” Her tears were absorbed by the material of his shirt.
Dylan pulled back, caught her face between his hands and shook his head.
“Mackenzie...” Dylan wiped her fresh tears away with his thumbs, still holding her face in his hands. “It’s okay.”
Their eyes locked. And Mackenzie couldn’t have looked away if she had the will to do it. Dylan’s eyes were naked, raw, unshielded windows into his soul. She continued to stare into his eyes as he moved his thumb sensually over her lower lip. Then his mouth was on hers, without pretense, without warning. Dylan’s kiss was soft, tentative, gentle, at first. Then demanding, possessive, sensual. He tasted like sugar; he slipped his tongue past her lips, pulled her body more tightly into his body. Her leg muscles turned to Jell-O; her breathing was quick and shallow. Dylan’s arm cradled her back, his fingers fanned out between her shoulders. He kissed her again and again, going a little bit further, taking a little bit more. And then it happened to her. From somewhere deep inside her, untapped and neglected, Mackenzie felt desire. Like tiny electrical shock waves sent tingling and
