“I’m going to burn them,” he announced. “That’s what I’m going to do, because it’s what she deserves.”
“No, you’re not,” Mack said. “There’s no way I’ll ever let you get away with that. So just give them to me and I’ll go.”
Another male voice entered the fray, someone they’d apparently disturbed with their argument: “Shut up! What’s going on? I’m trying to sleep!”
“It’s nothing,” Ace called back. “Mind your own damn business!”
“Hey, help me out here,” Mack shouted. “Ace has his ex-wife’s baby pictures, and I’m here to get them. That’s it. Once he gives me those, I’ll be gone and you can go back to sleep without all the racket.”
“I’m about to call the police,” the man threatened.
“There’s no reason to get the police involved,” Mack responded. “Just hand me her things.”
“Get the hell off my property!” Ace shouted.
“I’m not leaving until I get those pictures,” Mack said. “Go ahead and call the cops, do whatever you’ve got to do, but you’re going to have a problem with me as long as you try to hang on to Natasha’s things.”
The door flew open and a much larger man than Ace—larger than Mack, too—loomed in the opening. “Get the hell out of here!” he growled.
Mack felt his hands curl into fists. “Sorry, I can’t do that. I’m not going, which leaves you two choices—you can try to make me, or go ahead and call the cops.”
The guy glared at him before turning to Ace. “Are you being a spiteful little bitch? Do you have some of your ex-wife’s pictures?”
An argument ensued between them, but right in the middle of it, the guy must’ve realized that what Mack wanted was by the door, because he shoved a small box into Mack’s chest. “Here, these look like what you want. Take ’em and get out of here,” he said and slammed the door.
Mack quickly dug through what he’d been given. Sure enough, it was photographs of Anya and Natasha when Natasha was young, a painting she’d done as a child, her birth certificate, a small jewelry box he and his brothers had once given her for Christmas and a few other things. The journal Ace had read wasn’t in there. He must’ve set it somewhere else, somewhere his roommate didn’t notice, but Mack supposed he was lucky to have gotten as much as he did.
Deciding to accept the compromise, he carried the items he’d recovered back to the car. I have most of your stuff, he texted to Natasha, but he didn’t get a response.
* * *
Natasha woke up before Lucas, pulled on a light dressing robe and went down to see if Mack had gotten home. She’d been so upset about Ace finding her journal and reading what she’d written that she’d never expected to be able to fall back to sleep last night, certainly not before Mack arrived. She did toss and turn and stew for a while, but she’d been so exhausted that she’d eventually drifted off in spite of that. Relocating had taken all of her energy. And she’d been through so much with Ace—over the past year, in particular—she was growing immune to the upset. This was just more of the same.
Except for what it might mean for Lucas. She felt terrible for her son. Had she not kept that journal, and the paternity test Mack was about to take came back negative, Ace would never have had to know there was a possibility that he wasn’t the father. Now he’d try to punish her for what she’d done with Mack, try to paint it as a betrayal when it was really just a case of bad timing. Even then, it wasn’t as if she’d tried to trap him. He’d been the one who’d wanted to get married. He’d pressed her for months until, after Lucas was born, she’d finally relented.
Mack was asleep on the couch. Despite what she’d said to him last night, she was relieved to see that he was safe—and that he had returned in spite of her harsh words.
With a sigh, she raked her fingernails through her hair and went back upstairs to the bathroom. She had to shower and go over to New Horizons. Last night when she’d emailed Aiyana Buchanon to thank her for sending the dinner from Da Nonna, Aiyana had asked her to stop by the school this morning, take a quick tour and check out the nurse’s office to see if she was going to need any supplies that Aiyana could order before she started, and she’d agreed. Since she’d interviewed via Zoom, and had never actually visited New Horizons, she was looking forward to seeing the campus.
The hot water pounding down on her sore muscles felt so good it was difficult to get out. The old house had its problems, but water pressure wasn’t one of them.
She’d just finished putting on her makeup and drying her hair, which took forever because it was so thick, when Lucas stumbled into the bathroom.
“Where’re you going, Mommy?” he asked, still half-asleep as he squinted up at her.
She crouched to give him a hug. “To work.”
“What about me?”
“My boss would like to meet you, so I’m taking you with me. Go potty while I make breakfast. Then I’ll lay out your clothes.”
“Can I stay here with Uncle Mack?”
“No. Uncle Mack was up late. We need to let him get some rest.”
“But...will he still be here when we get back?”
After what she’d said to him, Natasha wasn’t sure. As much as she understood she’d be better off, in some ways, if he left, there was a part of her that dreaded the moment he drove off.
Damn her traitorous heart.
“I think so.”
“You don’t know?”
Last night Lucas had asked, over and over again, when Mack would be back. She knew he wasn’t going to be happy when Mack went away and felt as though she needed to prepare him for that moment. “No, I don’t know, and we can’t put any pressure on Mack, okay? He won’t be staying long. You need to remember that and not get too attached.”
Leaving him in the bathroom, she went to put on her red dress, which she paired with a white belt and heeled sandals. She stared at herself in the mirror, discouraged to see how the dress hung on her. It used to fit so nicely. But she didn’t have time to worry about how skinny she was getting.
After pulling her hair back, she squirted on some perfume and went down to make pancakes. That was when she found the small box containing her pictures sitting on the counter.
Apparently, Mack had been able to reclaim her memorabilia after all. The journal wasn’t there, but as she sifted through the photographs she would’ve lost without him, she couldn’t help regretting what she’d said on the phone last night. There was no reason he’d had to take her in when she was younger, no reason for him to provide the money she’d needed to get ready for college, no reason to stay in touch to keep her from feeling too lost and homesick that first year, no reason to come to LA to help her move or reclaim her pictures.