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

“You’re welcome,” Mackenzie said when he joined her.

“You should be apologizing to me for barging into the bathroom like that,” Dylan countered with feigned indignation.

“You should be apologizing for having a manicurist!” Mackenzie retorted.

Dylan stuck out his hand. “Call it even?”

“Fine. Even.” Mackenzie shook Dylan’s hand. “Come on...let’s go watch Hope ride.”

They walked out to the riding arena and both of them leaned up against the fence. Dylan watched Hope canter Gypsy. “She’s got a great seat for riding.”

“She definitely doesn’t get that from me. I’ve always been a little afraid of horses.”

“No. That she gets from me.”

Mackenzie glanced at Dylan. They had known each other in another lifetime, when they were just kids. But there was something comfortable in their silences when it was just the two of them. That something was familiar, unrehearsed, effortless and impossible to fake. There was a shared history; they came from the same neighborhood. There was a common thread of values that transcended the years they had spent apart.

When Dylan spoke, it was in a lowered voice and for her ears only. “I know you told me that Hope has leukemia. But it doesn’t seem possible. Just look at her. She’s...perfect. She acts like a typical kid.”

“She’s been in remission for two years, so she’s gained weight. And even though it’s different and that bothers her, her hair finally grew back. But we aren’t out of the woods yet. When she was diagnosed, she was put in the high-risk category, which means she has a greater risk of the cancer coming back.”

“You know, when you told me about Hope, about her diagnosis, I’ve really tried to educate myself about her type of leukemia.”

“ALL...”

“Right...” Dylan nodded. “But I still don’t know what any of it means for Hope.”

“What do you mean?”

Dylan turned his body toward her. “Is she going to be okay or not?”

Mackenzie looked at her daughter, so happy to be riding Gypsy again. “I don’t know, Dylan. There’s no guarantee. Her prognosis is good, but until we hit the three-year mark without a relapse, I’m not going to feel like we’re out of the woods yet. She takes daily doses of medication, she goes in for regular testing and she still takes chemo. And let me tell you, when she does have chemo, she’s not the same kid. She can’t get out bed, she’s sick to her stomach, I can hardly get her to eat.” Mackenzie watched her daughter. “That’s why she pushes herself so hard in between...”

“Because she knows what she’s in for...”

“Exactly.” Mackenzie smiled and waved at Hope, who cantered in a circle directly in front of them.

“She never mentioned it to me.” Dylan rested his foot on the bottom of the fence. “I sort of thought she would.”

“She doesn’t like to talk about it much anymore, and I try to respect that. All she wants is to be a normal kid. Who can blame her? No kid should have to go through this...”

Dylan wasn’t certain what had changed inside him. But something had. A switch had been flipped, an indelible mark had been made, and there wasn’t any going back. When he had awakened this morning, he hadn’t been a father...and perhaps he really wasn’t still. But he wanted to be. He saw it now just as plainly as if it had been written across the cloudless blue sky...he had a chance to do better for Hope. He had a choice...he could reject the legacy left to him by his biological father and embrace the lessons he had learned from Uncle Bill. And it took Hope, sweet, honest, tenderhearted Hope, to make him see the light. Hope slowed Gypsy to a jog and then an animated walk. Gypsy’s neck was drenched with sweat, her mouth dripping foam from engaging with the bit.

Cheeks flushed red, eyes bright with joy, Hope patted Gypsy enthusiastically on the neck. “Good girl, Gypsy! I’m going to take her for a walk to cool her down before I rinse her off.” Hope dropped her feet out of the stirrups and let them dangle loose.

“I’ll grab the gate for you,” Mackenzie said.

Hope guided Gypsy through the arena gate and headed to an open field; Mackenzie and Dylan walked slowly back toward the barn.

“Have you told Jordan yet that I’m Hope’s father?” Dylan asked in a low, private voice.

“No.” She had led her family to believe that her college boyfriend was Hope’s father. Only her father and brother knew the truth. It was hard to come clean on a lie, especially one as big as this one.

“I haven’t told Ian yet, either.” Dylan slipped his sunglasses back on. “I’ll call him and see if we can get together with them tonight. We may as well tell them together.”

Chapter Seven (#ubba75f79-c03b-50d9-951a-0fb7f89b7b60)

Mackenzie and Dylan took the elevator up to Ian Sterling’s penthouse. Dylan, Mackenzie noted, was impeccably dressed in pressed khaki slacks, a custom-tailored navy blazer and spotless shoes that had to have cost more than one month’s rent. She, on the other hand, still had on her baking clothes: an oversize Nothin’ But Cupcakes polo, new black Converse and an old pair of baggy chinos that were permanently stained with food dye.

Mackenzie took a small step away from Dylan. Whenever she was near him, she felt like a dumpy bag lady. She caught her reflection in the highly polished brass elevator fittings. Had she been having an odd Alfalfa moment this whole entire time? She quickly tried to smooth the out-of-control curls.

Mackenzie glanced over at Dylan, who was standing stiffly next to her. He looked as nervous as she felt. “So...how’s your backside?”

Her attempt to get him to loosen up a little worked. He cracked a smile. “Sore. Thank you for asking.”

“Well...you’re not the first victim.”

“And I won’t be the last...” The elevator came to a slow stop, the light dinged. “This is us.”

In front of the condo’s ornate door, Mackenzie started to feel queasy from nerves. Telling your family that you’ve been lying to them for ten years didn’t exactly seem like a fun time. When Dylan opened the unlocked door, she wished she were anyplace other than where she was.

“Anybody home?” Dylan announced their arrival.

“Dylan! Mackenzie!” Barefoot, dressed in faded low-slung boy jeans and a simple white tee, Jordan appeared at the top of the stairwell leading up to the main floor.

“Come on up! I apologize in advance for the renovation mess...”

At the top of the stairs, Jordan hugged Mackenzie first, and then Dylan.

“Jordan...this view...”

“I know, right? Crazy good. Once it’s remodeled, it’s going to be heaven on earth...”

“She’s taking advantage of the fact that I can’t see the invoices,” Jordan’s fiancé, Ian, commented as he walked into the room.

Mackenzie had seen pictures of Ian Sterling, world-renowned photographer and ex-model, but to see him in person was an entirely different experience. He was tall and built, high cheekbones, strong jawline. Sculpted lips. He was a perfect physical match for tall, athletic, naturally beautiful Jordan.

Jordan went immediately to Ian’s side and linked arms with him. “Knock that off, GQ... Mackenzie doesn’t know you’re kidding. I’m just warning you guys. He’s been cracking a lot of blind jokes lately...” Jordan confided to Mackenzie as she nonchalantly guided Ian over to where Dylan and Mackenzie were standing.

“And Jordan is determined to suck all the fun out of this little adventure...” Ian said about his blindness.

Even though it was dusk, Ian wore dark sunglasses. Diagnosed with a rare form of macular degeneration called Stargardt disease, Ian was legally blind.

Jordan had a glow about her that Mackenzie envied. No man had ever made her all girlie and dewy and flushed.

Jordan introduced Mackenzie and Ian. They shook hands, and then Ian and Dylan gave each other a hug.

“Let’s talk in the study...it’s the only room Jordan hasn’t torn apart...”