Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

WOOD

S he never even considered me an option.

Can't say that doesn't sting.

I push that conversation out of my head as I follow her into dinner. Tables are neatly arranged with white tablecloths and gold-rimmed dinnerware. People are starting to arrive, and servers are already circulating with trays of hors d'oeuvres.

Macy glances longingly at the fried cream cheese wontons as a server walks by, and I take a mental note to grab some for her.

"Oh, there's Bex!" She points toward where she and Jake are standing near the open French doors.

I put my hand on the small of her back, the memory of sliding up her zipper and knowing how soft her skin is under her dress making it hard for me to concentrate on anything else.

She winds around the tables and the growing crowd of guests toward Bex, and I stay one step behind, my hand never leaving her.

"Are you enjoying the festivities?"

Macy stops abruptly in front of Spencer's mother.

"What up, Mrs. Hayes?" I say at the same time Macy says, "Yes, everything's wonderful."

She looks at me with her cool smile. "Call me Saundra."

Nope. Not going to do that.

"Don't you look handsome tonight?" she continues. "You're wearing the same color as my Margot. If you two were standing next to each other, everyone would think you two were a striking couple."

Macy slips her hand into mine and my chest tightens.

"That's a cool coincidence, Mrs. H. I probably wouldn't have even noticed if you hadn't said anything. There's only one girl I can't keep my eyes off of." I beam down at Macy, warm all over.

I bend down and kiss her on the forehead. She's smiling up at me when I pull away, but she squeezes my hand two times quickly.

Luckily, before I can excuse us away, Jake steps in and tells his mom that the wedding coordinator is looking for her.

Mrs. Hayes rushes off and Bex comes to join us, followed closely by her mother.

"Well, I don't see why you had to invite him at all."

"Because he's my dad, Mother," Bex sighs.

"It's not like he's even been around the last twelve years?—"

"Says the woman who only calls me on Christmas and my birthday," Bex says under her breath.

"Is he going to walk you down the aisle?"

Bex turns and rolls her eyes. "I need to find some fucking alcohol." She leaves, her mom left standing there with her mouth hanging open.

"I apologize for Bex, Mrs. Bishop. She's just really stressed right now," Jake says with a nervous smile. Then he goes off in the direction Bex went.

"Oh, there you are!" Mrs. Bishop's face lights up, and I look over my shoulder as Livvy walks up to join us, a little wonton in her hand. "My sweet daughter. I'm glad you've never been difficult like your sister."

Macy eyes Livvy's wonton.

Noah comes up behind Livvy, placing a tattooed hand on her shoulder and sliding it up her neck possessively as he towers over her and her mother.

Mrs. Bishop clutches her little cross necklace and Noah chuckles under his breath, making the skull tattoo on his throat move.

My man Walter looking dapper in a bowtie clears his throat and announces it's time for the tasting to begin and for everyone to please find their seats.

I touch Macy's elbow. "Wontons at ten o'clock."

Her gaze shoots instantly to the left and with the cutest little, "Oh," she heads that direction.

I scan the names printed in scrolly letters on the folded cream and pink notecards at the center table.

Ms. Margot Hayes

Mr. Noah Dixon

Ms. Olivia Bishop

Mr. Wade Woodall

Ms. Macy Greene

Mr. Spencer Hayes

"What the fuck, Bex?" I whisper and gesture to the cards as she comes to the table holding a drinking glass full of champagne.

"Shit! I specifically told them not to sit them next to each other."

I switch my name card with Macy's just as she arrives at the table, mouth full, each hand in possession of a golden fried wonton.

"I got one for you," she says—or I think that's what she says—her words are all garbled.

She sits as servers come to set out empty wine glasses and fill tall glasses with ice water.

Spencer is the last to sit at our table. I straighten my shoulders and look ahead, putting my arm around the back of Macy's chair. Sommeliers file into the room with towels draped over one arm and wine bottles in the other.

Spencer reaches for his water, then says quietly, "I hope the number of forks doesn't confuse you."

"We went to the same fucking finishing school," I say in a low tone.

"I know. I was thinking all that booze and partying in college may have damaged your brain."

"Are you still sad you were never invited to the good parties?"

At the front of the table, our sommelier clears his throat and then begins telling us about the first wine of the evening, a Sauvignon Blanc paired with our first course—a seared scallop with a lemon and parsnip ceviche.

Servers bring out the tiny plates with the singular scallop and place them in front of us as our wine is poured.

Macy puts her hand on mine on top of the table and I turn to look at her. Her delicate fingers curl around mine and I hold them tight. A little ringlet of her red hair has escaped from behind her ear.

After the third glass of wine—a Pinot Noir along with goat cheese, prosciutto and arugula bruschetta—has been consumed, Macy's cheeks are pink, spattered with the cutest little freckles. Her eyes are so dark and pretty and her lips look so soft and now I'm remembering how they taste and fuck, I want to kiss her again.

"I don't really like this one," Livvy says from the other side of Macy.

"I'll take it." Macy takes Livvy's glass and pours the rest of the Pinot Noir into her empty one.

"You know it's not a good idea for you to drink too much," Spencer says, leaning forward to talk to her around me.

Macy takes her glass away from her lips and sets it down. Looking down at her hands, "I'm just enjoying some wine at dinner. I can handle myself," she says, quietly.

Luckily for him, the fourth course arrives so I keep my mouth shut even though I'm tempted to chew him out.

He clicks his tongue and I put my hand over hers again. She leans against me, and I kiss her temple then whisper against her skin, "Don't let him get to you."

She smiles up at me and squeezes my hand once. It's a real smile, with teeth. Breathtaking. Her cheeks are rosier, and she even laughs with Livvy and Noah when Livvy cuts into her lobster and sprays butter all over the table.

Between the fifth and sixth courses, Bex comes and crouches between Macy and Livvy. "Ugh, why did I agree to sit at the same table as my mother?" She takes a silver flask out of her purse. "Wanna do shots?"

"Unbelievable." Spencer rolls his eyes.

"Sure," Macy says, and she and Bex take turns taking swigs, Macy's face scrunching up in the most adorable way after each sip.

"Liv?" Bex offers it to her sister. Livvy shakes her head. "Wood?"

"I'm good."

"Boo, you guys are no fun."

"Bex, hon, let's get back to our table," Jake says softly.

"Shit! I've been found." Bex puts the flask away, smiling, before standing and being led away by her fiancé.

The sixth course comes out—a pear tartlet with mint crème and raspberry sorbet paired with a Riesling. The sommelier finishes telling us about all the notes in the wine and then starts pouring.

Macy reaches for her glass.

"Are you sure you really need more?" Spencer says dryly.

"Don't talk to her," I snap.

Macy gives my hand a squeeze, just one. I don't say anything else. She excuses herself to go to the bathroom, though she looks a little unsteady on her feet as she goes.

I whip my head around and turn to face Spencer as soon as she's out of sight.

"I don't want you to say one more fucking word to Macy the rest of the night. In fact, make that the rest of the week. You're upsetting her. You had your chance with her, and you blew it. It's over. Leave her alone and let her move on. She's not interested in you or what you have to say anymore."

At the same time I say the words, part of me knows his words are affecting her so much because she does still care what he thinks. She's probably still in love with him, because she's pure of heart and you can't just turn real feelings off. Believe me, I know that.

Knowing she still has feelings for him cuts me deeper than it should.

"Move on?" Spencer sneers. "With you? Do you really think you're anything more than a rebound? That you two actually have anything in common. What even is this? It makes no sense. Are you that obsessed with competing with me? Are you still trying to win and one-up me, like you have since you were fourteen?"

I lower my head and my voice, trying to appear calm. "I never gave a shit about competing with you. If I won, it was because I was better than you. I wasn't even paying attention to what you were doing. That was all in your head. The only thing I ever had a problem with you about was the way you treated Macy when you were together."

He narrows his eyes. "Do you think I couldn't get her back if I wanted to? I could get her back in a second if I tried. I don't want her after she's been with you. I always knew you had a thing for her, but I didn't think you'd go so hard for my sloppy seconds this fast."

My fists are clenched, and I lunge out of my seat before I can think better of it.

But I see red hair in my peripheral vision. Macy's walking back to the table and just the sight of her clears the fog in my head, though my heart is still pounding.

I was a fraction of a second away from punching Spencer square in the face. And I wouldn't have held back. He'd probably have a broken nose, and then I would have ruined Bex's wedding.

I stuff my fists in my pockets as Macy approaches, clenching my jaw so I don't say anything else. She's still a little wobbly in her heals, face flushed.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

I nod, not looking at Spencer. "I was just about to ask you the same thing."

She smiles, but then almost loses her balance and I grab her by the waist.

"Can we go back up to the room? I don't feel great," she says.

Thank fucking god.

She has her heels off before we even get to the stairs, kicking them across the polished wood floors. I pick them up as she sways on the bottom step.

I steady her around the waist.

"Sorry," she slurs, "I think I drank too much."

"We've all been there. You don't have to apologize."

"Now you have to take care of me." She's looking down at each step, going slowly.

"I don't mind taking care of you." In fact, I love it.

About halfway up, she leans a little too far in the other direction, wobbling on the edge of the step. I grab her and pull her up against my side and put her arm over my shoulders.

"I've got you. Hold onto me."

She leans into me, nuzzling her face into my chest with her eyes closed. "You smell good." She giggles.

"Thank you." I kind of like drunk Macy.

We finally get up the stairs, down the hall, and safely to our room.

I click the lock into place and when I turn around, Macy has her back to me. She looks at me over her shoulder as she pulls her hair forward off her back.

"Unzip me?" she asks sweetly.

I wasn't prepared for how much more arousing unzipping her dress is than zipping it up. I pull it down, revealing more and more smooth skin. I try not to touch, not to linger. Not to count the number of freckles she has on her right shoulder blade.

Seven. She has seven freckles on her right shoulder blade.

"Thanks," she says, smirking.

Is she smirking at me?

There's something else, too—a look in her eye I've never seen from her before.

"Sure thing," I say, then walk around to my side of the bed.

Then comes the distinct sound of her sequined dress hitting the floor.

What the fuck?

She always goes into the bathroom to change. She's obviously not thinking straight and is quite inebriated, so I pretend I don't hear anything and keep my back turned to her and find my sweats.

"Did I look pretty tonight?" she asks.

"Did I not tell you? You looked gorgeous, as always." I quickly unbutton my shirt and undo my belt, undress to my boxers, then put on my sweats and a white T-shirt to wear to bed.

She's still standing in the room, so I slide into bed carefully, making sure not to look in her direction so she can go get changed in private.

"I don't wear my hair down very often. Does it look okay?"

I lay my head on the pillow and force my eyes closed. Why isn't she going into the bathroom?

"Your hair is beautiful. I love it down or up."

And then she lets out a sob. High-pitched and guttural—the kind I'd overhear in the middle of the night at my apartment after she and Spencer had first broken up. A sound I never want to hear her make again.

"Mace! What's wrong?" I ask as I sit up, throwing the blankets off me.

She's standing there, in a sheer black bra and a lacy black thong and holy fuck. I avert my eyes and look around the room for something.

"Fuck!" I get up and rip off my shirt as I go to her and cover her with it. "Here, put this on."

She cries harder.

What the fuck is happening?

"What's wrong? Did I do something? How can I fix this?" I get my shirt on over her head and pull it down frantically.

She looks up at me with tear-streaked cheeks. "No one wants me."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm not hot enough. I'm not smart enough. I'm not interesting enough. I'm boring. No one wants me. Spencer doesn't want me. I thought maybe you kind of wanted me, but apparently not." The tears start rolling down her face again.

"I'm so lost right now."

"I was trying to seduce you!"

"You were?"

She wails, and not knowing what else to do, I wrap my arms around her and pull her face to my chest.

"No, no, no. Don't cry. I do want you," I say.

"You're just saying that. And now I'm crying on your chest again."

"Come here." I usher her over to the bed and we clamber in.

She curls up on my chest as I cover us up and hold her to me.

"I wasn't just saying that. Macy, I've wanted you since the first moment I saw you. And I still want you."

She lifts her head and looks at me with big, wet eyes. "No you didn't."

"I did!"

"Really?"

"Yes." I chuckle a little. I can't believe I'm saying all this. "I never did anything about it because you were either with Spencer or crying over him."

She gives me a shaky smile.

I wipe the corner of her eye with my thumb. Thankfully the tears seem to have stopped.

"Lay back down." It's easier to say this not face-to-face.

She puts her head back on my chest and I stroke her hair. I could stay like this forever.

"Noah has told me I need to get over my crush on you for years, but I haven't been able to. You're my dream girl. The person I haven't been able to get out of my head."

She hiccups.

"The kiss we shared yesterday? That was hands down the best kiss of my life. I didn't want to stop." I do stop from telling her I had to turn over immediately after because my cock was maybe the hardest it's ever been and I didn't want her to see it and get upset.

"Keep going," she whispers.

"You know I date a lot, but, as you pointed out the other day, I haven't been in a real relationship in years. It's not because I don't want to be in a relationship—it's because I desperately want to be in a relationship."

With you.

I stroke her hair more and she settles down into the crook of my shoulder. "I try not to, but I can't help but compare every girl I go out with to you. When I was younger, my dad told me he knew instantly when he met my mom that she was the one. He couldn't describe it except for it felt like something inside him just knew, and he couldn't ignore it. I always thought it was ridiculous until it happened to me the night I met you.

"I sit across from these girls at dinner and try to imagine bringing them home to meet my mom, and none of them make sense. But I can picture her meeting you, and I know she'd love you as much as I do."

Did I just tell her I love her? Is this why I don't drink wine?

Macy is quiet. Shit.

"Mace?"

I glance down at her, sleeping soundly on my chest, her lips slightly parted, long, drawn-out breaths soft on my skin.

I kiss the top of her head and close my eyes, too.

She's wiggling in my arms.

Macy.

I open my eyes. My arm is draped across her stomach and one leg wrapped around hers as she tries to free herself.

"Sorry," I say, yawning and rubbing my eye. Soft, orange light is pouring in through the window, throwing everything into a dreamy shade of peach. I'm surprised I slept this late.

She sits up and I smile, wondering if what I told her last night has changed everything. Or anything.

"Why am I wearing your shirt?" She looks down, freckles moving as she scrunches up her face.

"I put it on you last night when you were?—"

"You put it on me?" Her face falls and she rubs her temple. "I'm sorry, I drank way too much last night. Was I terrible?"

"Of course you weren't terrible. Do you not remember last night?"

She shakes her head. "I don't remember anything really after drinking from Bex's flask."

My stomach drops.

She doesn't remember anything.

Macy gets out of bed and takes a step toward the bathroom but stumbles. She grabs the nightstand for support and grabs her head again.

"Hungover?"

She looks at me, squinting. "I don't know. Maybe. But it feels weird. I'm dizzy, lightheaded."

"Is your blood sugar low? Do you need something to eat?"

She blinks a few times then tries to stand again. She looks around the room like she's searching for something, but her eyes don't look like they're focusing.

"I think it's too high." She shakes her head. "Something's wrong. Too high." She takes another step toward the bathroom then falls to the floor.