Marriage On The Cards: Marry Me, Mackenzie! / A Proposal Worth Millions / Heart Surgeon, Hero...Husband?. Susan Carlisle

I’m sorry.”

      “Your apology, however halfhearted, is accepted.”

      Dylan glanced over his shoulder; Aggie and Hope were coming out of Hank’s stall and his window of opportunity was about to close.

      “Mackenzie...” Dylan crossed his arms to give them something to do. “I was wondering...do you want to come over for dinner Friday night?”

      “Um...we can’t. Hope’s spending the weekend with one of her friends from Relay For Life. I don’t normally let her spend an overnight, but this family knows the drill because their daughter has ALL as well, so...”

      “I know. Hope told me. That’s all she talked about today was her sleepover, which she never gets to do. What I meant was...do you want to come over Friday night for dinner...with me?”

      Mackenzie lifted her brows questioningly. “Why?”

      Dylan looked at her as if he couldn’t quite figure her out. Perhaps he was used to automatic yeses to all his invitations.

      “Because...” he said. “I think it’d be good for us to spend some time together. There are a lot of things we still need to figure out. Don’t you agree?”

      “I suppose.” Up until now, she had been very good at dodging Dylan’s attempts to sit down and discuss how they were going to move forward as coparents.

      Dylan tucked his hands into his pockets and lifted his shoulders questioningly. “Oh, come on, Mackenzie...what’s the worst that could happen? If nothing else, you’ll get a free meal out of the deal. And, I really didn’t want to brag...”

      “Of course not...”

      “But I have been told that I’m pretty amazing with my grill.”

       Chapter Eight

      Mackenzie stood in front of her closet, staring at the sad collection of old clothing hanging askew on wire hangers. After several attempts at finding something even remotely fashionable to wear to Dylan’s house for dinner, Mackenzie groaned dramatically and threw herself face down on her unmade bed. Dylan always looked so put together; she wanted at least to try, for her own sake, to look halfway decent for a change. But, in truth, she didn’t really want to go at all. What she really wanted to do with her first kid-free weekend was to procure a bag of ranch-flavored Doritos and to watch the Food Network in bed. When her cell started to ring, she reached out with her hand and felt around on the nightstand for the phone. Not lifting her head up, she put the phone to her ear.

      “Hello?”

      “What are you doing?” It was Rayna calling.

      “Slowly suffocating myself with my hypoallergenic pillow...”

      “I take it the hunt for an outfit isn’t going so well?”

      Mackenzie rolled onto her back and wrapped herself in her comforter like a burrito. “I think I’m going to call him and tell him I’m too tired...”

      “I’m coming over...”

      “Is that gangsta rap?” Mackenzie took a time-out from her own crisis and tuned her ear to the loud music blasting through the phone.

      “Yes. Charlie had a bad day at work. Max and I are coming over.”

      Moments later, Rayna and her rotund feline arrived in her bedroom. She peeled the comforter back and found Mackenzie inside. Max jumped up onto her bed with a grunt. He nudged her hand so she would pet him.

      “Mackenzie...you can’t back out. How long has it been since you’ve done anything remotely fun?”

      Mackenzie tried to remember but couldn’t.

      “If you have to think about it for that long, then it’s been way too long. And do you know what I think? I think that hidden beneath these rumpled, oversize clothes is a beautiful, curvy woman just dying to come out and play.” Rayna tugged on Mackenzie’s arm until she was upright. “Now...you go take a shower because you smell really sweaty. Max and I will try to find you something less...boxy to wear.”

      Needing to clean up anyway, Mackenzie took a quick shower and shrugged into her bathrobe. She wiped the moisture from the bathroom mirror and frowned at her own reflection. She looked tired. Dark circles, a little bit of stress acne on her chin.

      Lovely.

      When Mackenzie returned to her bedroom, her dirty clothes had been collected and deposited in the hamper. And Max was happily lounging on her freshly made bed.

      “What did you do in here?” Mackenzie asked.

      “Oh...I just picked up a little so I could see what we’re working with,” Rayna said offhandedly. “You do know that square isn’t a flattering shape for a woman’s body, right?” Rayna had pulled several tops out of her closet. “Why are all your clothes two sizes too big?”

      “I don’t have time for shopping, Ray...you know what I do have time for?” She sounded defensive. “Payroll. And hospital visits. So, no offense, but having a fashion moment just isn’t high up on my priority list.”

      “I know how busy you are.” Rayna’s hands stilled and she looked over her shoulder at Mackenzie. “But you’re still buying clothes for your old body. And you may not believe me, but a good pair of jeans and a pretty blouse can change your whole outlook on life.”

      Mackenzie caught her reflection in the dresser mirror. Yes, she had lost a ton of weight. But when she looked in the mirror, all she saw was fat. And, with Hope’s illness and always struggling to make ends meet, it was easier just to buy oversize, comfy clothes and avoid reflective surfaces. She couldn’t remember the last time she had actually tried something on in a fitting room.

      “Now, this is pretty!” Rayna spun around and held up a deep purple short-sleeved blouse that Hope had convinced her to buy. “What do you think? It still has the price tag on it.”

      Mackenzie shook her head. “No. I don’t do short sleeves. My arms are too...” She wrinkled her nose distastefully. “Jiggly.”

      Disappointed, Rayna hung the blouse back in the closet. “You’re your own worst enemy...you’re hot and you don’t even know it.”

      Mackenzie opened her dresser drawer and pulled out her favorite long-sleeved San Diego Padres shirt. “It’s ridiculous that I’ve even been spending one second stressing about this...it’s Dylan. Not a date. So I’m not gonna get all gussied up, when I never get all gussied up, and make Dylan feel all weirded out because he thinks that I think that this evening is something more than it is. Which it’s not.”

      “It’s a date.” Rayna sat down on the bed next to Max. “Friday night. And he’s cooking you dinner at his place? It’s a date.”

      Refusing to indulge in Rayna’s fantasy, Mackenzie stepped into the bathroom to slip into the Padres shirt and a pair of jeans. Mackenzie sighed. The jeans were tighter around the waist than they used to be. Why did it always have to be such a battle? If she didn’t watch every bite, consider every carb or exercise several times a week, the scale would turn against her.

      Whatever.

      “Trust me, Ray...I’m not Dylan’s type.” Mackenzie grabbed her comb and began the chore of untangling her thick, wavy hair. “And he’s not really mine.”

      “You actually have to date to have a type...and besides, you guys have a daughter...you must’ve been attracted to each other at some point. Right?”

      “That was—” Mackenzie stopped combing her hair for a second to think. “I don’t know what that was.”

      “A night of unforgettable passion?”