She’s right. I definitely want to. But should I?
Yes, Mack pushed me into a whiskey barrel filled with water and held me under until my lungs threatened to burst. But she confessed a few months back that Huxley was the one that dared her to do it. And sure, she stole all of my boyfriends from under me in high school, but if they were so eager to cheat, did I really want them to begin with? What do I care if Huxley believes that Mackenzie is the one for him? I mean, if that thorny thistle makes his heart sing, who am I to judge?
Sherlock, Gatsby, and Cinnamon all nudge Huxley at once in a not-so subtle plea for attention until he’s scratching each one of them on the back.
“Maybe I just need a dog?” Hux says as he pats Gatsby on the back.
“Goldens are great,” Leo says, his gaze still transfixed on Jasper’s laptop.
“Labradoodles are great,” Emmie says, running her hand through Cinnamon’s curly fur.
“Get a mutt from the pound,” Jasper adds his two cents while his fingers fly over his keyboard and I give a dreamy sigh.
“I married him because he’s wise,” I say. “Hux, let’s get real. You live at your office. You don’t have time for a dog.”
“Do I have time for a wife?”
I take a deep breath. “Hux, Mackenzie is the mayor of Cider Cove. She hardly has time for a husband, but she’s willing to take you on. Do you love her?”
“Yes,” he says it with conviction and looks stumped that I even had to ask. “Of course, I love her. I loved all my wives before we got married.”
Emmie shakes her head. “And then what happened?”
“I don’t know.” His eyes bug out a moment. “Things just petered out, I guess. I thought Mack and I would be different. She’s not like the others. She’s feisty, and opinionated, and she demands that I be the best version of myself every damn day.”
“Wow,” I muse, albeit with a sarcastic bent. “She sounds like the perfect cheerleader.”
He makes a face. “She’s less cheerleader, more drill sergeant.”
“Drill sergeant?” I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “At least she’s showing you her true colors.”
“Don’t knock it.” Leo winks at Emmie. “Some men like to have their woman run rickshaw over them. I’m one of them.” He mouths those last few words at Em.
“Don’t listen to him.” Emmie tosses a cookie at him and Leo catches it. “I’m an angel—unless, of course, you turn the living room into a trash heap because you can’t be bothered to take your dirty dishes to the sink, or your myriad of wrappers, or your dirty napkin vortex to the trash.”
“Don’t forget leaving the seat up,” I tell her.
“It happened once.” Jasper looks up wild-eyed. “Exactly how many apologies should I give before they take effect?”
“See this?” Hux jabs his thumb at the table. “This is why I’m wondering if I’m walking into another legal debacle. Believe me, it’s no fun wondering if you’re going to make it before you ever get down the aisle.”
I pat my hand over his. “If it makes you feel better, there probably isn’t going to be an aisle. You’re essentially getting married at halftime in the middle of what equates to a high school dance at the gym.”
His dark brows furrow. “That actually does make me feel a little better.”
“I’ll be standing right there next to you,” I tell him. “And oddly, so will Dad. Look, if Mackenzie makes you happy, if you think you can see yourself spending the rest of your life with her, then go for it. Make all of your drill sergeant dreams come true. And if things start to fall apart one day for Mack and you, don’t run. Maybe try some therapy for a change. Sometimes the good things in life are hard, but they’re also worth the effort.”
Hux blows out a big breath. “Thanks, Bizzy. I actually feel better. As much as I’m not exactly looking forward to the ceremony, I’m looking forward to spending my life with her. She might be a drill sergeant, but she’s my drill sergeant.” He scoops up another handful of cookies and hops to his feet. “Thanks for helping me out. I’ll see you all at the wedding.”
We say a collective goodbye as he runs out the door.
Emmie stretches an arm out and snatches up another cookie. “Are we taking bets to see how long they last?”
“Not this time,” I say, reaching over and getting a cookie of my own.
Sherlock gives a sharp bark. Incoming! Right behind you, Bizzy!
I turn in time to see none other than Mackenzie Woods heading in through the back door. Her hair is windblown, and her crimson coat is cinched tightly at the waist.
“Bizzy, Emmie”—she hisses as she pulls out the chair with Sugar and Fish in it, and I quickly scoop them up as she falls into the seat—“you have to help me.”
Em leans in, amused. “What is it?”
Fish and Sugar growl over at Mack.
I can’t blame them. They were just taking a moment to indulge in a perfectly good nap when she just about squashed them.
Mack yanks open her coat a notch as her cheeks pique with color. She looks as if she’s cooking alive, and if memory serves correct, Mackenzie always broke out in a sweat when her nerves were getting the best of her.
“I don’t know if I can do it,” she pants. “My wedding is less than a few days away, and I’m not even sure I can walk down the aisle.”
Good grief, Fish growls. They’re a couple of peas in a pod. Go ahead, Bizzy. Prop her up and get it over with.
“Cold feet?” Jasper offers a knowing grin her way.
“Aren’t you the apt detective,” she snips. “Yes, I’ve got cold feet.
