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- Herausgeber: WS
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
Thoughtless words. A devastating breakup. A journey to self they could never have foreseen…
Mackenzie
Mackenzie Almazan lives a charmed life. Even with the devastating death of the uncle who raised her, the American-born Filipina grew up with security and love. This should be the happiest time in Mackenzie’s life as she is planning her wedding to Sam, her childhood best friend turned fiancé, yet, a single look from him makes her question everything and suddenly the life she dreamed of explodes and crumbles around her. Just when things start to feel hopeless, she looks up to find someone asking if the seat next to her is taken.
Sam
Things have always come easy for Samson Madden—school, making friends, and even love. Having met Mackenzie at age ten, knowing almost instantly the Filipina girl would own his heart, Sam worked hard, determined to make the life he dreamed for them a reality. However, as he moves up the corporate ladder, it changes what he wants and dreams of. Sam makes a devastating mistake that starts a chain reaction ultimately leading to the realization of who and what he is becoming. Sam is confronted with a major decision—does he want a future with Mackenzie or stay on the path he is on and leave the love of his life behind?
The two embark on separate journeys to uncover who they truly are. Is this the end or another beginning? Dive into this captivating story of self-discovery and romance that leaves you believing in the magic of your Wildest Dreams.
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Seitenzahl: 427
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
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Wildest Dreams
Meridith Claire
Copyright @ Meridith Claire 2024
All Rights Reserved
ISBN: 979-8-218-56932-7
All characters in this novel are fictitious. The use of any real company and/or product names is for literary effect only. All other trademarks and copyrights are the property of their respective owners.
Book Cover and Illustrations by Ben Goldman
Edited By M.E. O’Connor, Tenyia Lee and Megan Morine
Contents
Dedication
To My Sister Moira O’Connor
My soul twin, my insides, my biggest cheerleader
Thank you for a lifetime of dropping everything to celebrate my happiest moments as well as running fearlessly into my darkness to hold my hand every time I needed to find my way out.
Thank you for always taking care of me, protecting me and being my person.
Thank you for being My Bianca…
Acknowledgements
Sally Goldman- For unwittingly facilitating this novel’s creation
My Beta Readers – Nicole Wolf, Mary Goldman and Moira O’Connor. Truly, I could not have finished this without you.
Justin Murry- For inspiring and reminding me to channel my creativity
My Editors- M.E. Tenyia Lee and Megan Morine Thank you for being patient with this dyslexic basket case with way too many ideas and thoughts.
My Squad of Believers- Michael Hatcher, Kayla Chauvin, Susan Kamaiopili, Gabrielle Burke, John Mellis, Cai Trevillion and Jason Hunter.
My Extraordinary Cousins- Eileen, Rachel, Aileen and Romina. It has been an honor to watch you grow up and become role models to Filipina Girls everywhere. You four are the sum of all of Mackenzie’s parts. Hopefully your Até did you justice.
Ben- For all the things. So many things, you know the rest.
Wyatt and Shaela- You two are all my reasons
Finally, Uncle Narding – For seeing and loving me when it felt like no one else did.
“the free soul is rare, but you know it when you see it - basically because you feel good, very good, when you are near or with them.”
― Charles Bukowski, Tales of Ordinary Madness
Chapter 1
Mackenzie
“Iswear on my prized pink Hermes pumps, if you don’t get that dopey look off your face, I will throw this piece of focaccia at your head.”
Mackenzie snapped out of her near-rapturous state at her partner in crime for the last seven years and best friend, Bianca Jones, threatening her. Mackenzie—often called Mac—blinked a few times, dramatically thumping her hand over her heart.
“Jesus, it can’t be that bad?” she laughed, knowing the reverence Bianca had for her five-hundred-dollar pink suede pumps and all forms of bread.
“You seriously look dazed, like that chick in that movie you force me to watch when you get depressed,” Bianca replied, shaking her head in mock disgust.
“Her name is Joan Fontaine, and the movie is Rebecca. It’s a cinematic masterpiece!” Mackenzie sat back in her seat, pouting when Bianca rolled her eyes.
“I will give you a pass just this once because I haven’t seen you this happy in a while. But seriously, get yourself together,” Bianca commanded, winking at Mac to let her know she was just giving her a hard time.
The two best friends were at Sweetgreen, a restaurant at the Platform, a shopping and dining area in the heart of the Culver City art district. There were casual places like Sweetgreen and upscale dining at Margot on the Roof and Roberta’s. All the restaurants had outdoor seating, so you could sit, eat, and soak up the California sunshine.
“It’s been a while since we’ve been here. I miss this place,” Mackenzie commented, knowing how much Bianca loved the Platform—it catered to two of her greatest passions: fashion and food.
Bianca and Mackenzie often met for lunch here when Mac’s office was in Culver City. The accounting firm Mackenzie worked for had since relocated to downtown LA. The commute was brutal, but the upside was that her office was now only a block away from the investment firm where Bianca and Mac’s fiancée worked.
Earlier that day, they had visited The Inn of the Seventh Ray to look at wedding packages and sample a few appetizer choices. The Inn of the Seventh Ray, nestled deep in the hills of Topanga Canyon, was romantic and secluded, yet still only a stone’s throw from Venice Beach, where Mackenzie was born and raised.
“So, you think Stuffy Sam is going to sign off on the venue?” Bianca asked, thumbing through one of the brochures they had been given.
“I’m positive. It’s where the wedding needs to happen. It’s the perfect compromise, bohemian yet elegant. And it’s so close to home that I could get ready there. I think Uncle Deano would have liked that,” Mackenzie said softly as she watched the cars whizz down Washington Boulevard. She swallowed, trying not to get choked up.
“It’s okay to miss him, you know? Especially now,” Bianca said, reaching over and squeezing her hand. Mackenzie nodded, trying to smile away from her momentary sadness.
“I know. That’s why I love the idea of getting ready at home. I think it will make me feel like he’s there.”
Mac had spent the entirety of her twenty-five years in a small, two-room bungalow three blocks from the beach, near the boardwalk. It was, also, just down the street and around the corner from where her uncle’s record shop used to be. Unlike most first-generation Filipinos, she didn’t have a mother commanding her to get straight A’s or a father who wanted their little girl to play an instrument. She only had her Uncle Deano. He’d come over from Cebu and broken the mold—and he’d raised Mackenzie to do the same.
Venice Beach was her home, and she doubted she would ever leave. All her best memories were associated with Venice Beach. It was where she met her fiancé, Sam. Like herself, Sam had grown up in their beloved beach city. Mac struggled to remember a time in her life when Sam hadn’t been there. They used to be kids, running up and down the street or through the boardwalk, aggravating tourists. Moody teenagers experimented with their limits in ways that would make most parents shriek. Even at UCLA, they were tied at the hip, always trying to find ways to get back from campus without meeting traffic that would cut into their study time.
Mackenzie hadn’t dealt with the commute as long as Sam had; she had to drop out midway through her second year. Their life paths had forked in two different directions, yet they stayed dedicated to each other. It was no shock to anyone that they were now engaged and planning their wedding.
“If he doesn’t agree, I’ll get Ezra to pry the stick out of his ass,” Bianca muttered.
Mackenzie gave her best friend a playful glare. She knew Bianca loved Sam like a brother. However, she’d often frowned at how much he’d changed since they met in college. The three of them—along with their friend Ezra—were a small, fiercely loyal pack. They were sometimes way too painfully honest with each other, which was why Bianca had no trouble telling Sam to his face that she thought he was becoming way too uptight.
Sam had long since given up his beach bum style and was now more Hugo Boss than Vans Off the Wall. While he’d never shared the same laissez-faire attitude to life that Mac had, he’d been less intense and ambitious growing up than he was now.
Still, they worked. Obviously, they would butt heads when it came to personal style, which is why The Inn of the Seventh Ray was the perfect compromise. They had decided to trek up the hill and to the local treasure after Bianca had an epiphany about the location. It also helped that Bianca was good friends with the manager, Avery. Mac suspected Avery had a thing for Bianca, which might be why she was convinced that Avery had dropped everything. She told her to bring Mac up the canyon when Bianca called.
Mac couldn’t fault Avery for having a crush on Bianca—her best friend was gorgeous. Bianca’s skin was a warm, caramel melanin-rich tone. Bianca’s eyes were striking, and her face was perfect. Currently, her hair was a huge, picked-out afro.
Bianca, like Mac and Sam, was a LA native who grew up in South City, or what locals once called, South Central. She’d fought her way out of the stereotypes and got a full ride to UCLA. She wasn’t opinionated; however, she did speak her mind. She was an avid advocate when it came to Mac.
Bianca took a sip of her kombucha. Their agreement was if Bianca took the day off to look at venues then Mac would have to be the designated driver. Bianca hated driving around Los Angeles. Mac didn’t mind, she was just glad Bianca was there to hold her hand.
“B, thank you,” she said, squeezing her best friend’s hand. “I know you and Sam haven’t been as close as you used to be. He truly does appreciate all the time you’ve put into helping me with the wedding plan.”
“I know the doofus loves me, and more importantly, he adores you. That’s all that matters to me, so I am happy to help,” Bianca muttered.
“Is it also because I said you could have carte blanche when it came to planning my bachelorette party?” Mac teased.
“That too. I swear, I am going to have to make it a destination trip. It’s the only way I can make sure Sam doesn’t crash the thing,” Bianca huffed.
“Sam gets a little overprotective,” Mac said unapologetically, shrugging her shoulders.
“All right, enough with the sappy love-bird defense. Hurry up and finish eating. We can give Ezra a call, then find that fiancé of yours to let him know today was a success.”
As they were finishing their meal, Bianca announced that she wanted to get Blue Bottle coffee. They were avid coffee connoisseurs, and Blue Bottle was in a class of its own.
They walked through the small corridor between Sweetgreen and Roberta’s, an upscale Italian restaurant known for its wood-fired pizzas. It was a sought-after spot, nearly impossible to get into for dinner without a reservation. Even at lunchtime, it was packed. The smell of fresh pizza and snippets of conversations drifted toward them as they came up on the crowded outdoor dining patio.
Suddenly, Mac bumped into Bianca as she stopped short in front of her. Mackenzie opened her mouth to playfully protest that she’d nearly fallen, but the look of shock and surprise on Bianca’s face stopped her. Bianca turned to look at her with wide eyes and muttered,
“What is Sam doing at Roberta’s?”
Chapter 2
Mackenzie
Mackenzie blinked a few times and peered around Bianca to see Sam sitting with a few people at a table. She reached for her phone in her back pocket, scrolling through the few texts she had sent to Sam. Making sure she remembered telling him they were coming to Sweetgreen. Confirming that she had, she realized he hadn’t replied.
“I texted him earlier, telling him we’d be here. Maybe that’s why he’s here,” Mackenzie replied, trying to not sound as unconvinced as she felt.
“Come on, we could tell him the search is over,” Bianca said cheerily.
Mackenzie shook off her momentary confusion, chuckling as Bianca dragged her over. Suddenly, she felt eager to share the good news with Sam, anxious to hear what he thought of their would-be wedding location.
She watched as Sam laughed while talking to the people at the table with him. It wasn’t his usual laugh. Normally, when Sam laughed, it was nearly silent. He held in a chuckle, even when it was something he found hilarious. He would hold in his laughter to the point where he doubled over, still trying not to let it out. This laugh was loud and disingenuous, and even the smile on his face looked plastic. Her Uncle Deano always told her that she had the strongest sense of intuition he had ever seen. If there was a moment that she wished he was wrong, it would be this one.
For some reason, she felt dread bubble up in the pit of her stomach.
Mackenzie took a deep breath, exhaling as Bianca continued to pull her toward the small gate right by Sam’s table. There were two people she didn’t know; she assumed they were from the C-suite in his firm’s UK branch. Mac knew they had arrived a day or so ago to assist Sam in trying to land a deal with his clients from Japan. Sitting there with them was another manager, Clarissa, from Sam’s department. Clarissa and Sam had been working on this huge deal for nearly a year. She worked at the same international investment firm as Bianca, although Bianca and Sam were in two different departments. It was Sam’s biggest deal to date; closing it came with a guaranteed change in job title and salary.
Mackenzie watched as Sam spotted them. He stood up awkwardly, scooting his chair back so far that it bumped into the patrons sitting at the next table. Sam apologized to them before redirecting his attention back to Bianca and Mac. Mac lifted her head as he looked at her. Sam didn’t tower over Mac completely, mostly because she was tall as well; she still had to look up in order to meet his eyes. He was the epitome of what a California golden boy should look like, yet he still had some uniqueness due to the Ashkenazi Jewish traits inherited from his mother.
He was tall at 6‘ 3“, with chestnut brown hair that would lighten a little when he was in the sun, jade-green eyes, lean yet muscular. His physique was the typical come-on she had heard from people. Mac had to restrain herself from laughing or rolling her eyes every time she heard, “Do you work out?” Every time she went to visit him at work, she would see at least one girl swoon as he walked past them. Sam never seemed to notice, though. It was one of the many things she loved about him.
When she teased him about it all he would do was shake his head, give her a small shy smile, and kiss her temple. Then he would give her a look of adoration. Everyone always commented on the warmth between them. Nothing like what she was seeing now. He looked at Mac, blinking in shock and nervousness.
“Gentlemen, Clarissa—what a coincidence running into you here!” Bianca exclaimed, laying it on a bit thick.
“Hi,” Sam said, clearing his throat. “We were just leaving. You all know Bianca; this is Mackenzie. These two are attached at the hip,” Sam explained, sounding more like he was giving a presentation than introducing his fiancée. There was a lack of any warmth.
The rest of Sam’s party rose and began walking out of the small outdoor seating section, a foot or two away from where the two best friends stood.
Mackenzie nodded in their direction. She kept a smile plastered on her face. The fact that he hadn’t introduced her as his fiancée was not lost on her.
“Hi, nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too! We asked Sam and Clarissa to take us to one of their local haunts,” one of them said, looking over at Sam and Clarissa expectantly.
Mackenzie nodded, still feeling numb. Sam often went out with out-of-town coworkers who were visiting Los Angeles. Like Mackenzie, they would be hard-pressed to find anyone who knew LA, like Sam. It never bothered her before. The difference this time was he hadn’t told her. Sam was usually adamant that they text each other anytime they left their downtown high-rise buildings. Mostly because parts of downtown Los Angeles were still dangerous. Sam was better at it than she was. He always shot her a quick text letting her know he was leaving and when he expected to be back. He often checked their phones to make sure location sharing was on. This time, all that was communicated was that he had a daylong meeting about his Japanese clients with people from the UK.
He obviously was not paying attention to his phone. Suddenly, she felt a bit stupid for texting him every little detail and letting him know she was going to lunch with Bianca, thinking that he might worry or want updates.
“We better get going,” Clarissa announced.
Bianca glanced over at Mackenzie, who gave her a smile.
“Actually, Mac and I were headed over to Blue Bottle. Why don’t you all join us? My treat, of course,” Bianca offered. Mackenzie felt Bianca squeeze her forearm gently. She was unsure if it was for reassurance or to snap her out of her silence.
“Sam, Mac has some news to share. I’ll order for the both of you,” Bianca smiled at Mackenzie again. She watched as Bianca turned, giving Sam a subtle glare.
Mac nodded for the third time.
“Yeah, coffee sounds great,” Clarissa said.
Mackenzie lowered her head for a moment to try to center herself as Bianca, the two men, and Clarissa made their way to Blue Bottle.
Mackenzie looked up at Sam; her confusion and hurt must have been evident.
Sam gently nudged her away from the host stand. He stopped them near an empty table. She deduced he was trying to find a place that was out of ear shot.
“Don’t overthink, Mac. It’s not that big of a deal,” Sam sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Sam did that anytime he was uncomfortable or aggravated. Belatedly, she realized he had been doing that a lot. She assumed it was because he was stressed about this deal. Slowly, it dawned on her that these days, he was doing it most of the time when he was talking to her. Still, Mac gave him a smile, hands locked behind her back, rocking back and forth, trying to calm herself as a foreign feeling of dread crept through her veins. She had felt that particular emotion throughout her life, never once when it came to Sam.
“I guess you didn’t read any of my texts. You didn’t tell me you’d be here,” Mackenzie held up her phone.
She watched as Sam reached to pull out his phone, reading the few texts she had shot off.
“It shouldn’t be a big deal, but why do I feel like it is?” Mackenzie asked quietly.
She knew it sounded ridiculous, but it was so unlike him not to tell her. It was something he had drilled into her head and unfalteringly led by example. That, along with the guilty look on his face, made her know he had not texted her on purpose. She was acutely aware of Sam’s nervousness.
“It’s not like I would have asked to come with you. I get it was for work,” Mackenzie explained.
After all, this was just a business lunch, not a dinner or an after-hours event. She’d accompanied him to a few of those in the past. Most of the time, she’d enjoyed herself. She did her best to support him whenever she could. Mac had thought she always left a decent impression with his more prestigious clients and out-of-town executives. At least, she thought she did. Something about him not telling her needled her so much that she could not just let it go.
“Yeah, sorry, I put my phone on silent right before I left the office. I know you took the day off to look at wedding venues, so I didn’t want to bother you.” She watched as he put his phone back in his pocket and looked down, not looking up for a moment. She wondered if he realized how flimsy his excuse sounded. “I invited Clarissa because she has been working on the deal with me this whole time,” Sam explained.
The explanation sounded rational. Yet, she could tell that bothering her wasn’t the reason. Most people would think something was going on between Sam and Clarissa. Sam would never cheat on her; it wasn’t in his DNA, so she knew it wasn’t that.
He stood there looking over his shoulder. Then back at her fidgeting a bit, it was as if he was trying to escape or afraid, they would come over. She watched as Sam looked her up and down, clearing his throat unnecessarily.
That’s when it hit her. She blinked a few times, realizing why he had not introduced her as his fiancée. She leaned over Sam’s shoulder, looking at the three of them. They were all dressed in attire that would cost her entire paycheck. She, on the other hand, was dressed in a thrift store mini-bohemian tank dress that came down to her knees with a pair of jeans underneath. It screamed boho Venice Beach. She looked down at her outfit and then back up at Sam. That’s when a tearing feeling inside of her started to rip slowly. Sam didn’t tell her or introduce her as his fiancée because he was afraid she would leave them with a bad impression.
Nothing could quell the feeling of shame that crept up her spine. Mackenzie shouldn’t have felt ashamed, but for a moment she did. She felt, irrationally, that somehow, she had disappointed Sam. How? By being who she was? The shame morphed into pain. Not just any pain. Pain that felt like the unthinkable. Sam, the one person she knew who loved her unconditionally, the man that was her touchstone was ripping out her heart.
“I should get back to the office. I don’t want to keep them waiting. Listen…”
Mackenzie looked up at him as he spoke. For a moment, she couldn’t make out the words coming from his mouth. It was as if everything else had shut off, the world around muted, as she felt her entire existence shifted. Things became clear to her in a massively miserable way. All she could feel was resignation and humiliation.
Sam leaned in, giving her a kiss on the cheek squeezing her shoulder and smiled like he had just closed a deal. The proverbial glass shattered in that moment, so intense that she had to stop herself from physically flinching. She tilted her head while looking at him. Whatever Mackenzie felt must have shown through in her eyes because Sam stood there frozen for a moment.
His eyes widened in what appeared to be fear. No one knew her better than he did. He took a shaky breath, peering down at her. She knew he was trying to figure out what she was thinking. He shuffled again, then turned away from her without a word. She gulped hard, doing the same, starting to walk in the opposite direction. Sam didn’t call after her. The man she’d spent the bulk of her life with must have sensed that this was something that couldn’t be resolved with a few words.
She gasped a few times, keeping the tears at bay. She felt as if her insides were collapsing with every breath she took. Still, she had to say something, let him know she understood why he did what he did. She turned around, calling his name.
“Sam,” she called out.
When he pivoted to face her, she saw the shame in his eyes but didn’t stop to acknowledge it.
“Quick question,” she spoke, plastering a brave smile on her face.
Sam nodded at her, giving her a weak smile.
“When did I become not good enough for your world?” she asked, trying to mask the pain behind her insincerely bright smile.
He flinched as if she had just slapped him. His hard gulp made Adam’s apple more pronounced as it slid down his throat. They had been together since they were kids, so she knew the motion well. He was speechless and petrified. Normally, she would follow up with something that would reassure him that everything would be fine. This time, she couldn’t. She gave him a weak smile, not giving him a chance to answer. Then, she mirrored his previous action by turning her back to him and walking down the small corridor toward Sweetgreen. She knew he wouldn’t follow her. He would wait until he got home, expecting her to be at his place. She could see him now, standing in front of her as she sat on his leather couch and watched him make his argument while he paced.
He’d expect that she would ask a few questions, challenge him for a bit then either take a few days to cool off or forgive him right away.
But this time was different. Why today? She wasn’t exactly sure until the moment he leaned in and kissed her cheek. She wondered if he understood the magnitude of what had just happened. Mournfully confident that he didn’t.
Chapter 3
Sam
Samson Madden stood in the elevator of his apartment building, looking down at his phone, rereading the few texts Mac had sent over and over.
"Good morning, Mr. Madden. Starting the search bright and early. Bianca says she has a killer idea; will let you know how it pans out."
"I think we found the perfect spot!! Treating Bianca to lunch at Sweetgreen at Platform. How is your day going? Anything you need while we are out and about?"
"Text when you have a second, Samson."
The last text was to playfully get a rise out of him; Mackenzie knew he preferred to be called Sam. Anytime someone asked him about his name, he'd have to admit that he was indeed named after the biblical figure. His hippie mother loved the idea of his strength being determined by his hairstyle. Sam couldn't fault her; his grandparents were also part of the Flower Power movement. He was thankful that his mother hadn't gone completely out there with his name. Her own name was Clover, after all.
Growing up, Mac used to joke about his name all the time, reminding him that he could have been named Spruce or Cedar. While Mac had disliked people shortening her name when they were younger, Sam insisted that they did. He'd even, at times, immaturely ignored anyone who called him Samson. That's how he and Mac were—completely in sync or polar opposites. Still, he couldn't help but think about the look in Mackenzie's eyes when he did not introduce her as his fiancée. He knew that what he did was catastrophic and was still stunned by his actions.
Mackenzie had been at Sam's side since she was eight and he was ten. He could still remember the day they met; she was on her skateboard trying to do tricks outside of her Uncle Deano's record shop, her various scrapes and bruises revealing that she was failing miserably with her quest.
He'd slowed his pace down to see what she was trying to accomplish. From what it looked like, she was attempting a hospital flip—a trick that began by popping the tail down with the back foot and flicking the front foot forward. If done correctly, she'd land back in her original stance.
"Your footing's wrong," he said as he stopped in front of her.
He had reached out toward her, conveying that he wanted her skateboard. Mac handed him the cause of her frustration, taking a step back to watch him. Sam proceeded to show her how the trick was supposed to look. It took most of the afternoon, but Mac finally did it. Her determination melted his adolescent heart. Sam didn't know at what point they introduced themselves to each other. Clearly, they had. He recalled looking down at the tiny, tan Filipino girl in braided pigtails sitting on the ground, leaning against the side of her uncle's shop, and feeling as if something had shifted inside of him.
It wasn't a matter of seeing her again; he was sure that was going to happen. It was as if he knew she was going to be so significant to him. At the time, he didn't realize how important she would become, but from that moment on, the bulk of his childhood revolved around Mac. After that day, she stopped trying to learn tricks. Her Uncle Deano thanked him later, admitting to Sam that watching her fall and land on the pavement was the closest thing to a heart attack he had ever felt.
Mac became content with standing behind him on his board while he zoomed them down the street, yelling "excuse us" to people who had to jump out of their way. He would have to occasionally bark at her to stop wobbling. Knowing every time she let go of his waist she had her arms stretched out teetering as she see-sawed them from side to side, trusting he would never let them wipe out.
Being with Mac sometimes felt like he was in the middle of this crazy whirlpool. Yet, Sam never felt unsteady. In fact, he'd never felt more grounded than when she was around. Her energy and personality were unlike anyone else he'd ever known. She was loving, charming, and the kindest person he had ever met. Her empathy for others was humbling. Brilliantly hilarious, there was an aura around her. All eyes went to Mackenzie anytime she walked into a room. It wasn't just because she was beautiful. It was because she lit up the space with her presence. In one of his sappy, drunken moments, he told his friend Ezra that Mac was like both the Sun and the Moon.
He felt the cold steel against his back as he leaned against the side of the elevator, his head tilted up, eyes closed, praying he would smell the scent of peaches and see Mac sitting on his sofa. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Mac standing in front of him as he introduced her. Not recognizing her as his fiancée. The look in her nearly black irises was one that he had never seen. He couldn't quite describe it. If he was being honest, he didn't want to try to figure it out. When he shut his eyes, he would see himself introducing Mackenzie as if she were an acquaintance, seeing the look in her eyes again and again. It felt like he was being emotionally disemboweled. Sam knew he had intentionally kept the lunch outing from her. He had very few non-negotiables when it came to Mac. Knowing where she was had been one of them. It wasn't because he was controlling. She only had him, his mother, and their two best friends. He always made it a point to return the request in kind. This time, he didn't. On top of that, she texted him. He hadn't bothered to check. He was too focused on working on the deal that he had spent the last eight months living and breathing. Focused on the people who could help him close it.
The ding of the elevator announcing his floor pulled him out of his thoughts. Sam walked down the long hallway and stood in front of his door, taking a deep breath and exhaling.
He pulled out his key and slid it into the lock, hearing the tumbler slide open. He gripped the doorknob, twisting it, gulping hard, knowing he had really messed up this time. She hadn't answered any of his texts or picked up the phone, and her parting question had stabbed him through the heart. Mostly because there was a truth to it. She sacrificed so much. Helped him finish grad school. Encouraged him to take night classes to get his Master's in Finance when everyone else told him he was insane because he already had his MBA. He had still wanted the extra accolade.
She was his biggest cheerleader. There were times when he had nothing to offer; Mackenzie hadn't cared. She had stood by him and believed in him even when he didn't believe in himself. Stayed up with him sketching every time he had to pull an all-nighter. She even dropped assignments when he was sick or in an important seminar.
How had he repaid that? He was an asshole; he knew it. He opened the door slowly, scanning the room, trying not to feel dejected that he didn't smell peaches. He walked over to his vacant leather sofa and dropped his suit jacket and messenger bag onto it. He felt his shoulders slump as he yanked his tie down, making his way to his bedroom, stopping short at the doorway.
The shock of what was on his bed paralyzed him. Sitting on his mattress was the key to his apartment, a small box with what looked like all the things he had kept at her place, and the bright green with a hint of blue colored Tiffany's box her engagement ring had come in.
He stumbled into the bathroom, pulling his tie over his head, heart beating out of his chest. His blood ran cold as he looked around the small room and saw none of Mac's things there. He took a step backward, opening his closet door. He heard a soft sob of disbelief, belatedly realizing it was coming from him as he looked at the empty space that once held some of Mac's outfits.
He told himself this couldn't be real. It wasn't that bad, was it? Sam turned around and raced to the key rack, looking for the keys to her place. He had to make things right. He staggered to a stop, seeing that the keyring with the tiny wooden surfboard with "Venice Beach" written across it with her keys no longer hung there.
Mac wasn't one to be very emotional or dramatic when it came to their relationship. Her tolerance level had always humbled him. What terrified him was that he knew once Mac made a choice, she stuck by it.
He reached into his pocket pulling out his cell phone, dialing her number immediately, but then getting not her normal cheery voicemail but an automated message saying the caller was unavailable. She had blocked him.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, repeating to himself over and over again that this was fixable. He tried to tamper down the rising fear that she would not give him a chance to repair the damage he had caused. He was downtown, and she was all the way in Venice Beach. It would take at least two hours to get to her because it was rush hour, and the famous LA Gridlock was in full effect. Normally, he'd wait it out and go later, but he knew he couldn't this time. He was going to lose her—if he hadn't already.
Chapter 4
Mackenzie
Mackenzie sat on a weathered wooden bench facing the street vendor stalls of the Venice Boardwalk. The area was known for its mass tourism, which brought street performers, people taking pictures at Muscle Beach and the famous Venice Beach Skate Park, and trendier parts like Abbot Kinney with upscale restaurants and various small boutiques. And last but certainly not least the infamous Venice Boardwalk.
Being here always made her feel close to her uncle. On the weekends, he would open the shop a bit later, at 11 a.m., so he and Mackenzie could sit there and eat brunch. Uncle Deano would tell her about the Venice Art Walls between Muscle Beach and the skate park. His favorites were the one of Jim Morrison, a recreation of Van Gogh’s Starry Night, and a piece called Venice Kinesis that riffed on Sandro Botticelli’s Venus. Or he would ask her about her week. Sometimes, the conversations were just silly; other times, they were more somber, especially after he was diagnosed with cancer.
Like clockwork, Sam would roll up at 10:45 a.m. on his skateboard, bike, or just on foot. Uncle Deano took it as his cue to walk to his shop, sometimes Mac and Sam would follow, other times, they would take off to get into trouble elsewhere.
It had only been three hours since her life had suddenly stopped making sense.
She thought back to the aftermath. Mac vaguely remembered turning toward Bianca when she called out to her. Whatever look she gave Bianca made her best friend put the coffee on the ledge next to them. Mac recalled nearly stumbling because her feet couldn’t seem to move. Bianca had dragged Mac behind the small building, away from curious eyes. She pulled Mac into her arms, hugging her tightly. Mac wasn’t sure when she’d started crying, only that she’d soaked the fabric of Bianca’s top. She wondered for a moment if her legs had given out and if Bianca was holding her up. Mac wasn’t sure. All she knew was that nothing in her world would ever be the same.
They’d gotten into Mac’s Prius and made it downtown. Bianca didn’t ask where they were going, didn’t ask any other questions, and didn’t try to make small talk. This was unchartered territory for both. Mackenzie was grateful Bianca had just followed her lead. Before they knew it, they were parked in one of the visitor stalls of Sam’s apartment complex.
Bianca followed Mac into Sam’s apartment, standing in the doorway, waiting to see what Mac’s intentions were. Once she realized what Mackenzie was doing, Bianca sprang into action. Appearing next to Mac, she started stuffing the items Mac was gathering into trash bags. Mac calmly started pulling her belongings out of the closet and bathroom. She was on autopilot and did not try to stop it.
The scene reminded her of the time Bianca came to her house armed with unbuilt cardboard boxes and packing tape. Uncle Deano had been gone for eight months, and Mackenzie hadn’t gotten rid of any of his things. Everyone around her hinted at her to make the change, but Mackenzie could not bring herself to do it. Bianca took it upon herself and made the call. They worked in silence, knowing talking would only lead to tears. About an hour later, Ezra and Sam showed up to finish the job, bringing Uncle Deano’s stuff to Goodwill.
There would be no Ezra and Sam this time. She hoped battle lines wouldn’t be drawn when it came to Ezra. Battle lines were imminent when it came to Bianca. Mac knew she would die on the ‘You’re a fucker for humiliating Mac’ hill.
It didn’t take too much time for them to finish gathering all of Mac’s things. She just wanted to get out of there. Sam was subletting the place from an associate in his firm’s UK branch for the next year, so she’d always been nervous about breaking his glass coffee table or leaving rings on his bedside nightstand. She had never been comfortable there.
Soon enough, they had piled her stuff into Mackenzie’s car and were back at Venice Beach, gathering all of Sam’s things. Mac noticed the lack of his belongings at her place. There were a few items but nothing substantial, not like when they were in college or after her uncle died when Sam had basically lived there with her. Now, there was only a small footprint of his presence. Mostly clothes that he only wore when he would forget to pack a bag for his weekend stays.
Just as they were about to load everything into Bianca’s car, Mac looked down at her engagement ring. It was a pre-owned Tiffany’s ring that Sam found on an estate sale site. Bianca had pointed out to him that Mac would want something that she didn’t have to worry about someone chopping off her hand to steal. Sam told her he noticed Mac always looking at the Tiffany store in Beverly Hills whenever they were there. He had decided long before he actually proposed it had to be a ring from Tiffany’s. She hadn’t taken it off since he put it on her finger three years ago. She looked down at it, now wondering if the COVID-19 outbreak and trying to save up money to have the wedding were the real reasons for their long engagement. Slowly, she slid it off her finger. She tried to calm herself, holding back the tears. Mac took a deep breath and then placed it in the Tiffany’s box. She felt Bianca hugging her from behind as the box snapped shut in her hand.
“Let me drop this stuff off in case you run into him,” Bianca offered. It made sense since Bianca lived in Koreatown, just west of downtown LA. Mac gave her a smile and nodded.
As they finished packing up Bianca’s SUV, her best friend looked her in the eyes, putting her hands on Mac’s shoulders.
“You sure about this, Mackenzie?” she asked.
It was rare for Bianca to ask questions when it came to Mackenzie needing her help. She was sure that Bianca would show up with bleach and tarps if Mac called and told her she needed to move a body. Mac nodded again, giving Bianca a brave smile and hugged her.
“I’m sure,” Mac whispered.
“Text me if you want me to come back down, okay?” Bianca pleaded.
“You know, I am not going to ask you to navigate LA for the third time today. I will give you a call tomorrow, though,” Mac promised.
With that, Bianca pulled out and left with Sam’s things and the key to his apartment.
Mackenzie looked down at her ring finger and saw the tan line there.
She didn’t think the way she chose to handle the breakup would be accepted. It wouldn’t be that simple. She expected to see him tonight. Especially since she blocked him on her phone and all social media sites. She wasn’t being purposely hurtful. She just needed to digest everything that happened without being swayed, and she knew Sam would try. But him being embarrassed by her cut too deep. She had no idea how to deal with it.
There were certain times in her life where she ached for her uncle to still be there and this topped everything on the previous list. She knew her uncle wouldn’t question her decision but rather ask her how he could help her get through the day to day. She could be wrong. Uncle Deano was the president of the Sam Madden Fan Club.
She would give anything to feel a hug from her uncle. Hear him say, “it’s ok, anak.” He always called her anak, when she was scared or hurt. It was a term of endearment in Cebuano that parents used for their children. She’d hoped that sitting on their bench would somehow soothe her heartbreak.
The distant sound of feedback from the speaker of a busker startled Mackenzie, pulling her out of her thoughts. She listened as they strummed the first few chords of Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now”. She shook her head, chucklingly mirthlessly. The song could not be any more perfect for how she felt. Mackenzie took a deep breath, unable to not smell the pot smoke and incense in the air. She looked up at the sky; she didn’t need answers; she just needed her world to stop shaking all around her.
“Mind if I sit here?” Mac heard a slightly accented voice say, breaking her from her reverie. Looking up, she saw a guy standing in front of her in a gray hoodie and a pair of jeans. She deduced he was of Chinese descent, close to her age, and, like her, taller than the average person of their ethnicities. Mackenzie also noticed that while his clothes were casual, they were high-end brands. He stood there smiling down at her, pointing to the space next to her.
She scooted over, making room for him and returning his smile. “Sure,” she replied. “But you have to excuse me If I’m not very talkative,” Mac confessed. Mac had a good sense of awareness when it came to guys wanting to hit on her. She also had the ability to be completely icy when she felt it was necessary. The guy sitting next to her didn’t make her feel apprehensive.
As he sat down Mac noticed he had a buzz cut. She immediately wondered if he was in the military.
The man held out his hand. “My name’s Chaoxiang Zhou. Or Hunter.”
Mackenzie took the hand he offered, shaking it. “Mackenzie Almazan,” she replied. “Do you prefer Chaoxiang or Hunter?”
“Hunter is good mostly because people abbreviate Chaoxiang. I don’t think anyone wants to be called Chow. Also, listening to them, in vain, trying to pronounce my name correctly takes way too much time.”
Mackenzie chuckled, turning her head to look at him. “I can sort of relate. Most people called me Mac when I was a kid. I hated it, but now I am used to it, so I get it somewhat.” She swung her head back toward the boardwalk, watching the tourists go by, her mind flashing to the memory of that afternoon and how Sam had treated her. Mackenzie shook her head as if trying to rattle the memory out of her mind. Hunter witnessed her strange behavior.
“Sorry not to sound dramatic, but the life I was so sure of completely changed today,” Mac laughed, looking up and rolling her eyes. “Wow, I guess that’s pretty dramatic. Believe it or not, I don’t make that statement lightly. “
Mackenzie watched him squirm nervously as he cleared his throat. She spied the blush that started to creep up his neck and spread across his face. “So, this is going to sound creepy and stalkerish. And trust me, if you jump up running, I wouldn’t blame you,” he admitted.
“Go on, but I’ll warn you, my voice carries, and letting out ear-piercing sounds is my specialty,” Mac replied, bracing herself for whatever he was about to say.
“I, umm, I saw you at the Platform earlier.”
Chapter 5
Mackenzie
Mackenzie shrank back a little, blinking a few times as she wondered if she needed to bolt.
"Well, first I heard you, then saw what was going on," Hunter explained, holding up his hands as if he was surrendering. "I swear, as nuts as this sounds, it's purely coincidence. My assistant Ollie and I were having lunch at Roberta's. I was just as shocked as you seem to be right now when I looked over and saw you sitting here." He pulled out a key card for a hotel room, holding it up for her to see. "I'm staying at Hotel Erwin down here. I have been there for three weeks. You can call and ask the concierge desk if you want to confirm."
When Mackenzie didn't say anything, he continued, "Anyhow, I hadn't been to Roberta's in a while, so we went there for lunch. That's where I saw you."
Mackenzie's body tensed for a moment. Growing up in Los Angeles, wariness was part of her native survival instinct. Bianca always said Mackenzie had "spidey senses" when it came to sniffing out if someone was bullshitting her. Something about Hunter disarmed her. She could see he was truly nervous and afraid that Mac wouldn't believe him. Relaxing, she blinked a few more times, letting out a low whistle. "Hotel Erwin… pretty snazzy. Not a cheap place to stay. Why Venice and not Santa Monica?"
Hunter smiled, visibly relieved that she hadn't thought he was a maniac. "It feels more real here. Sure, the tourists swarm during the day, but there are a few hours in the morning when it's just the locals. Less pretentious, I guess," he laughed.
"I completely get it. I have lived down the street from here my whole life," she replied, pressing her hands down on the bench.
"Are you here on business?" she asked.
Hunter shook his head. "I live here in Los Angeles," he answered.
"So why the hotel? Are you renovating your place or something?" Mac asked curiously.
"I did recently sell the place I lived in. There's nothing wrong with my current property. I just wanted to see the city from a different perspective."
"You in the industry?" she asked, meaning the entertainment business—anyone who lived in Los Angeles knew that. His statement about owning more than one property let her know he had money, maybe movie money.
Hunter chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm in the tech industry. I know it's completely cliché, right?" he chuckled, pointing at himself, referring to the fact he was Chinese.
"Believe it or not, I didn't become a nurse," Mackenzie quipped. It was widely known that Filipino women were pushed into the nursing profession by their parents.
Hunter jerked back a bit in mock shock, both laughing. "How did you escape that?" he asked.
"I was raised by my uncle. He was an engineer; I know again, shocking, right? He stopped working at Northrup and opened a record store here. Down the street, actually, so going against the norm was the norm in our household."
Hunter turned his head. "Does he still run it? I have an extensive vinyl collection."
Mackenzie gave him a small smile, shaking her head before looking down for a beat. "No, he passed away a while ago."
Hunter groaned, tilting his head back and burying his face in his hands. "Sorry, remembering that is probably not what you need right now," he said, his hands muffling his voice.
Mackenzie shook her head, patting him on the back. "Actually, I was already thinking about him, so it's okay."
Hunter turned his body toward her, hanging his arm off the back of the bench. He crossed his legs, one over the other. "So, from the sound of it, things aren't going well with your boyfriend. Don't worry. No one else besides Ollie and me seemed to notice. Ollie barely admits he knows me, so there is nothing to be concerned about there. I feel like it's dumb to ask if you are okay."
