Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

MACY

" I t's going to be a lot, moving into a new place and planning a wedding at the same time. There's also the honeymoon. I want to go to Greece. Jake wants to do Bali. But we'll probably end up going to Hawaii because I don't think my passport will be here in time, even expedited."

I nod while I stir the rice. Bex is sitting on the other side of the counter, painting her nails and talking nonstop about the wedding plans. Spencer and Jake's parents have already offered to host at their place on Bainbridge Island. It's a huge house with massive lawns and sweeping views and private docks, right on the water.

"But hey, with us out, you and Spencer will have the place to yourselves. You can finally unpack, use the closet in the spare room."

I smile. "Maybe."

"Maybe? What the fuck, Mace. Does he still want you to move out after this?"

"You know how he feels about living together before we're married. He doesn't like how it looks. He's very traditional." He's only begrudgingly let me and Bex stay at his apartment the last six weeks or so, and I can tell it's stressing him.

Bex rolls her eyes. "Tell him to chill out. No one cares about that anymore."

I shrug and check the clock. Spencer should be walking in any minute, and there's two minutes left on the steak. I need to make sure they're not a degree past medium rare this time.

The recipe says three to four minutes per side for medium rare, but it needs to just be three per side. Four is too long. I know this now. This is Spencer's favorite meal, and I've made it many, many times, but there's always room for improvement. Maybe I should get one of those meat thermometers.

The door clicks open. Spencer and Jake walk in wearing shorts and sweaty T-shirts. They were playing racquetball with a couple of the attendings they work with at the hospital.

"Great. Looks like dinner is about done. I'm starving," Spencer says.

"Yep, just a few more minutes," I say as he disappears down the hall.

"There's my girl. I've missed you." Jake comes up behind Bex and wraps his arms around her, kissing her cheek and neck.

He's all sweaty and probably smelly. I can't help but wrinkle my nose. But Bex squeals and giggles, turning around after a second and kissing him hard on the mouth. They're still making out when Spencer comes back out after a few minutes, hair wet, freshly showered and changed.

"Dinner and a show tonight. Wonderful," he deadpans.

Bex flips him off over Jake's shoulder. "You only have to put up with me a couple more days until the rest of our furniture arrives. And I'll be leaving for work soon."

"I'll miss you," Jake whispers against her neck.

She giggles.

Spencer rolls his eyes.

I take out the asparagus, then add the dressing to the salad.

"Everything is ready. Can you set the table while I run to the bathroom?"

"I hope the asparagus isn't too salty this time," Spencer says.

I hurry to the bathroom to check my blood sugar and inject my insulin. The finger prick is worse than the needle. Always hated it—that tiny drop of blood is the bane of my existence somedays.

But I go through the motions. Washing, sticking, reading, calculating, poking. The same routine I've done multiple times a day, every day since I was fourteen.

Calculating how much insulin I'll need to inject is simple because we have this exact meal so many times and I've gotten my portions figured out.

I'm so glad Spencer is okay with eating the same meals over and over again. He's a creature of habit and routine, just like me, and it's one of the things that makes us so perfect for each other.

When I return from the bathroom, they're all sitting at the table. Bex and Jake are filling their plates while making eyes at each other over the salad bowl. Spencer is already eating.

I take my seat next to him and make my own plate, reminding myself to try and keep the rice to the one cup serving size I planned for.

"Did you do something different with the rice?" Spencer asks.

A little spark of panic sinks through me. Was the box different this time? No, it was the same brand, the right color. And it tastes the same to me.

"No."

"Hm." He pushes his thin, wire-framed glasses up his straight nose and keeps eating.

"How's the steak? Better this time?" I ask hopefully.

"Could use some steak sauce."

"Oh. Okay." I go to stand when Bex holds her hand up to stop me.

"You've barely gotten to take one bite." She shoots a glare at Spencer. "You can get your own steak sauce."

He looks at her for a minute and blinks.

"I'll just go get it," Jake pipes in with a nervous smile.

Spencer drops his fork, which clatters on his plate. "No. I'll get it." He smiles at Bex. Her nostrils flare.

I start slicing up my steak, but the sound is too loud in the now quiet apartment.

Spencer comes back from the kitchen and sits, bottle of steak sauce in hand. But when he opens the lid, brown liquid spurts out at him.

"Goddammit!" Spencer shoots up from his seat, drops of sauce sprayed down his crisp white shirt.

"Shoot! Let me help." I jump up and grab a towel from the kitchen, but when I go to wipe the sauce away, he reels back.

"Stop, you'll just ruin it. It's already ruined. This is an expensive shirt, Macy." Then he storms away.

I wait for him to come back so we can finish eating together, smiling at Bex and Jake whenever they look up, trying to ignore the awkward turn of the evening. But Spencer still hasn't returned after ten minutes, so I eat the rest of my dinner without him.

The steak is a little dry.

I make a mental note to get a meat thermometer asap.

"I missed you here in bed last night," Spencer says as we get under the covers, slipping between the cool sheets. He's cooled down since the shirt mishap at dinner.

"You did?"

"Of course."

I smile and slide over to him. He puts his arms around me and kisses my forehead.

See, he's sweet sometimes.

When we first got together, he was the sweetest. We used to stay up late talking for hours. We've been together so long we know most everything about each other now. We don't talk as much. But that's how relationships go as they progress, right? There's a comfort in being together in silence, too.

I always admired his drive and ambition. And now he's doing it. He's one of the youngest leading surgeons in his field. It's been a bit rough the last year or two. Maybe two or three, as he's been getting his career going. But I'm going to support him the whole way.

It'll get better.

"This is much better," he says. "You, coming to bed at a reasonable hour, with me, instead of staying up too late and waking me up at two in the morning when you finally stumble in. Really is better for both of our health."

"You're right." I had tried not to wake him last night after the party, but he's a light sleeper. I felt so bad knowing he had to be up in a few hours. Both of us getting uninterrupted sleep will be better. He truly cares about my health.

"I know I am. And now, we can do this." He pulls me closer and kisses my neck while he shimmies my shorts and underwear down my hips.

Between both of us taking long shifts at the hospital and—Spencer especially—being mentally and physically drained, the opportunities to be intimate are few and far between. I'm lucky to get more than a couple times a month.

I never turn down the chance when he's in the mood.

"Oh!" I pull my bottoms off the rest of the way.

He's already got his boxers down and rolls me onto my back as soon as I kick my panties off at my feet. I don't have the chance to take off my oversized sleep shirt before he's pressed on top of me. He doesn't seem to mind, though, he simply pushes it up to my belly button.

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and brace for the moment he pushes in.

It only takes a second after the initial, uncomfortable drive inside for my body to get used to it and to start lubricating. After that, it's smooth going as he moves in and out of me, his cheek at my temple, warm breath in sync with his thrusts.

We're silent in the darkness. A peaceful merger of our bodies, giving and receiving love.

His tempo picks up, the movements faster and harder and shakier, and I know he's about to find his release. With one stilted grunt, he pulses over me, emptying himself with his climax.

I love this moment—the split second he lets go of control, shows his vulnerability with me. It's a connection I cherish.

It's a connection that's over too soon.

Spencer rolls over onto his back, his chest heaving and covered in a fine mist of sweat.

He's almost asleep when I get back after cleaning myself up and finding a new pair of panties. I snuggle up to his side and throw my arm over his chest.

"Sorry, not right now. I'm still too hot." He shifts away to the edge of the mattress.

You knew that, Mace. I scooch back to my side and stare at the ceiling, trying to stay still so I don't disturb him. I close my eyes, but that doesn't help. I should be tired. It's nighttime, it's…nine twenty-eight. Oh.

"Are you asleep?" I whisper.

Spencer grunts.

"Don't you think it's wild that Jake proposed after only a month and now they're getting married in three weeks?"

The covers rustle as Spencer turns over to face me and fluffs his pillow up under his head.

"I think they're adults and can make whatever decisions they want, even if I don't agree with them."

"It feels too soon, right? I mean, we've been together over six years and…" And you don't even want to live together yet , is what I don't say.

He sighs. "I don't see why they're in a rush, no. But at least she will be able to quit her job at the bar now. He'll make more than enough so she can focus on more respectable things—like being a wife and a mother."

I'm glad it's dark in here because I don't think—okay, I know—he wouldn't appreciate the face I'm making right now.

"Bex likes her job. Maybe she doesn't want to quit working at the bar. It's her decision. I mean, you don't expect me to quit my job after we get married, right?"

"Of course not. But I imagine when kids start coming into the picture, you'd want to take a leave, maybe wait to go back part-time once they're out of primary school. Or you might find doing something like charity work with the hospital just as fulfilling. It'd be up to you. You're just a nurse. I don't think it matters either way."

Just a nurse?

I sit up, throwing the covers off. "Wait—is that really what you imagine for me. For us?"

"Yes. But to be honest, I haven't given it that much thought. Marriage and kids aren't on my vision board for the next several years, I'm still focusing on my career. So, there's no need for you to be worrying about it right now or be getting so worked up over it."

" Worked up ?" Is he serious right now? "We've been together over six years, and you haven't given that much thought about our future?"

Spencer sits up now. "Why all these questions? What has gotten into you?"

" What has gotten into me ?" My heart is racing, cheeks burning hot. "I thought we were going to be the next ones to get married. I thought I was going to be the one planning a wedding this summer. And you haven't even been considering it ? What are we doing then?"

"I thought we were on the same page about this," he says way too calmly.

"Obviously we're not," I say, much louder than intended.

"Obviously."

"That's it? You don't have anything else to say?" I'm shouting now, voice cracking in a way I don't think it's ever done before.

He slowly takes his glasses off the nightstand and puts them on. "I've never seen you act like this. I don't think I like it."

" Act like this ? Like what?" I get out of bed, chest heaving, pacing on the carpet. "Like a person with feelings and emotions? Someone with their own thoughts who isn't choking them all down just to keep the peace? Someone who's tired of always making herself smaller?"

He clears his throat. "Macy. Please lower your voice. If you're going to get emotional over every little thing?—"

" Every. Little. Thing ? This is not a little thing. This is a very big thing." I can't believe what he's saying. I can't believe what I'm saying.

"I see. I really thought this would work out, but maybe we aren't as well-suited as I thought."

The way my jaw drops. "What do you mean? Are you—are you breaking up with me?"

"I don't think so. But maybe that would be best." He doesn't even get up, just puts his glasses back down and rubs the bridge of his nose where the nose pieces usually leave little red marks. "Let's think about it. You can sleep on the couch for a few days."

Then he turns over and lies back down as if that hadn't been an earth-shattering, throw-the-last-six-years-of-our-lives-together-away conversation.

Maybe it wasn't—for him.

I don't even have words. I'm frozen, mouth open, can't breathe, can't think.

I can't breathe. My chest hurts. Rigid. Cold.

Ten minutes ago, I would have said I loved this man more than anyone in the world, and even if he didn't proclaim it outwardly, I was confident he felt the same about me.

And now I know he doesn't. He never did. Because he wouldn't have been able to treat me like this. Like I mean nothing to him. Like we are nothing.

I want to scream. I want to throw something at the back of his stupid little head. I want him to react. I want something, anything from him.

But I know I won't get it. I know him.

Fighting with someone who always wins is never worth it. That's why I never did. And that's why I won't now.

My suitcase is conveniently in the corner of the room. I never fully unpacked—a reminder he never let me forget that me living here was temporary. Silently, I go to the bathroom and get my things, double-checking I have all my medical supplies.

I leave his spare key on the kitchen counter, glancing back at his bedroom door. I don't know, I guess…still hoping he'll come out and stop me. Tell me he didn't mean it, and we'll talk about it in the morning. That we'll work it out.

Silly me.

There's no sound. No movement.

So I leave.

It's not until I'm out on the street, in the dark, not sure which direction to go, that the tears start. I don't have many people. I was never the going out, social, life-of-the-party type who made friends everywhere. I had Bex and Spencer.

And now I don't.

I walk up the block and turn left at the corner, still not sure where I'm heading. I should probably call for a ride. Call someone. But I just keep walking.

And then I make another turn—toward the only other place I have to go, toward the only other people I really know—to Livvy and Noah and Wood's apartment.