A British love at first sight

Chapter 11

I'm pressed up against Mackenzie like in a rush-hour subway before COVID, but I'm comfortable. I don't know how we managed to fit, but we somehow slept in the same bed. We have proof too, since Maggie took a photo of us with the flash on, startling us awake. Mackenzie turned over, spooned against me, face against my breasts, and my arm wrapped around her to hold her close. At the second photo, I hear Liam burst into laughter from the doorway. I'm offended this time, but I act silly to avoid any assumptions.

"I heard noise last night and got scared."

"The brave French," Liam chimes in, laughing even harder. "Are you staying here tonight?"

"It depends. If you keep teasing us, we might just head back right away."

"You'll help me, we will move your beds into the same room, and we will shift that huge dresser out of Kenzie's room."

"Dad, we're not sleeping together!" grumbles Mackenzie.

"We're not a couple, I assure you. It's just that... I was feeling down last night. I lost my parents when I was young, and seeing you with Mackenzie brought up some emotions. So, I needed my friend."

I realize they weren't aware of my past. Margaret signals for me to stand up, tears in her eyes, and come into her embrace. I'm afraid. But she holds me close, and I cling to her, tears flowing softly. A mother's love is unique, it's magical, it erases all the pain.

"Thank you, Maggie. Mackenzie is important in my life, she's always there when things aren't going well. I consider myself lucky to have her as my friend."

At this point, Liam embraces his daughter tightly, proud of her. He's quite emotional, this giant colossus.

During breakfast, Mackenzie opens up about the rebranding of the boutique and my financial investment. If I were to hand them a piece of paper asking them to officially adopt me and sign it, they might just do it. They seem like they're about to sing the National anthem, "La Marseillaise" any moment. They understand well that the relationship between their daughter and me goes beyond mere friendship, although they have no idea that we've eaten each other crumpet. As I come out of the bathroom, I find everyone sitting primly in the living room. I can smell a setup from ten miles away. Now it's Mackenzie's turn to go to the bathroom, I offer to help Maggie with her recipe, knowing that the meat needs to simmer for a while, but she smiles mysteriously instead.

Mac! What did you tell them? We haven't discussed our stories!

"We're going out tonight!"

We, them? They're leaving the house to Mac and me? She spilled everything?

"Is there a game?"

We're in England, I'm taking a wild guess.

"No, we're going to the Pub. Kenzie told us you've always wanted to go," Margaret explains.

"We'll see if you can handle alcohol, Frenchy," Liam laughs.

Liam doesn't know, I've had some training. I can down a bottle of wine with one hand and throw darts with the other, eyes closed.

Yeah, I'm boasting, I'm French, and I'm from Paris, that's a whole other level.

With our car loaded, Liam lends us his car as we still have some shops to visit. We take advantage of it to wander around, letting go of the commercial streets and tourist sites; I just want streets, walls, and Mackenzie knows exactly what I love and offers it to me. I'm not making too much effort to be in good shape tonight, because I've taken up a challenge, and to avenge Joan of Arc, I must outdrink Liam the giant. We buy more clothes and plenty of accessories, until Mackenzie kisses me on the cheeks and says it's enough, that she has more than enough stock. I obey her, the talkative silent partner of her store. On the way back, she's smiling; I know she's going to make a good amount of money. We've collected contact cards, several jewelry designers have left their items on consignment. That's something I'm familiar with. I explain everything to Mackenzie on the way back, telling her that we'll work on a contract model for her store. On the road, just for the sake of it, I call one of the designers, and he's excited about the idea of selling his products in Paris. I give him my email address so he can send us photos of his creations, and he explains that he can also make custom pieces. That definitely interests us. Thanking him, we high-five each other, satisfied with our trip to England. As we park in front of her parents' house, I rub my hands in anticipation.