Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

WOOD

S he's cried every day since she's been here.

It's gut-wrenching.

The first three days were the worst. She didn't leave. Just laid up in the loft above the kitchen, overlooking the living room and the view out to downtown Seattle, and cried. I could hear her no matter where I was in the apartment. And late into the night as I tried to go to sleep.

She didn't want to talk to anyone, especially not me. Only Livvy was allowed to go up there and check on her, bring her food and make sure she was eating.

Livvy would carry down whole plates of food she didn't touch.

I don't know much about managing type I diabetes, but her not eating was really starting to freak me out. I felt helpless.

Today is day four, her first day back at work, and I am determined to help make it a good day for her.

I've been up since five for a weekly conference call, a hazard of consulting for a company on the east coast. And I've been in the kitchen since six, "The Sign" by Ace of Base stuck in my head all morning.

The low gurgle and drip of the coffee maker behind me tells me the pot is almost done. Bacon is sizzling and smells divine. I made sure to pick up extra fresh fruits at the store last night and any second now—ding!—yep, there's the timer for my mini blueberry muffins.

They're perfectly risen and golden brown, steaming as I place them on the cooling rack.

Noah and Livvy come out first. She's rubbing her eyes, begrudging all the sun coming in through the giant windows, and his dark eye circles tell me he didn't get enough sleep. The dark, sunken eyes fit his aesthetic, though. Some days he could pass for the inspiration for the skull tattooed on his throat.

Macy pads down the steps from the loft so quietly I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't been checking that direction every five seconds for her to appear. She immediately disappears again into the bathroom.

They eat while I contemplate if I have enough oranges and time to make some freshly squeezed juice.

Livvy comes back for a third muffin, which is flattering, but does little to ease the somersaults my stomach is doing.

"Morning," I say when Macy comes out.

She's wearing dark blue scrubs, and her hair is up, cheeks barely pink under her cute freckles, eyelids still puffy.

I hope she likes the muffins. I should have squeezed the juice.

"Morning," she says softly. No smile.

"I can get that for you," I say as she grabs the coffee pot.

"I'm fine." She fills her travel thermos then tops it off with a little bit of vanilla creamer.

Silently, she puts the creamer back in the fridge and gets out a yogurt. I made sure to get extra of the strawberry kind she likes.

My heart skips a beat as she looks over at my muffins. Then she takes a banana and heads for the door.

"I thought you didn't have to be in to work for another hour?" I say as she puts the banana in her purse.

She looks at me, tilting her head as her brow furrows. I should probably dial it down a notch.

"I need to go in early and figure out who I can trade shifts with to get the whole week off for Bex's wedding activities."

Oh. Right. "Ah, cool. Have a good day, girl."

She nods. "Thanks."

And then she's gone.

I'm glad I didn't squeeze the juice.

"How is Noah? And it's Olivia, right?"

"Livvy, yeah."

"Tell me everything."

"Mom, you're about to board a plane, I don't have time to tell you everything. But they're doing great. She moved in. I've never seen him happier. He smiles and shit."

I refrain from telling her how I've caught them going at it all over the apartment or how I've recently invested in some very expensive noise-cancelling headphones.

"Oh, I'm just so happy for him. He deserves this." Her voice gets all shaky and sentimental, and I can picture exactly the proud smile on her face and her eyes getting all watery. "Now it's your turn."

"Ma, I'm trying. I'll find someone."

Macy's face flashes in my brain and my chest caves in.

"I want grandbabies! I'm getting old."

"You just turned fifty. That's not old."

Dad took her on a month-long trip to the Amalfi coast in Italy for her fiftieth birthday. It's her favorite place and where they went on their honeymoon. They're on their way home, finally. They'll probably be super tan and on a bruschetta and limoncello kick for the next six weeks.

"You're my only child. I want to see you happy and in love."

"You're just still disappointed I wasn't a girl, and you want someone to go shopping and have spa dates with."

"Is that so bad?" she asks, laughing.

In the background my dad's voice says, "Darling, they're starting pre-boarding."

"Oh, honey, I have to go. I'll call when we touch down. We're staying a few nights in New York before we come home."

Of course they are.

"Okay, Mom. Tell Dad I say hi."

She yells at Dad that I say hi, her voice muffled like she's holding her hand over the speaker.

"Dad says hi back."

"Thanks, Mom."

It's been a week and tonight's the first night she's spent down from the loft. Bex came over and all three of the girls are watching a movie on the couch, snuggling under blankets and eating junk food. I try to stay out of their way, tiptoeing around the kitchen to not draw attention to myself and secluding myself in my room.

But they're watching a sad movie and she's been crying off and on the whole time, so I've been fighting the urge to go out there and turn it off all night.

And I can't help but overhear when she says her ice cream is all gone, her voice with the tell-tale wobble.

Bex offers her wine. She declines. Then come the hiccups and sobs.

I pull out my phone and order three tubs of the cookie dough ice cream she's been eating. The delivery cost, fees, and tip end up being twice as much as the ice cream, but I don't care. It arrives in less than half an hour.

I give instructions to the delivery person not to knock or buzz the door, so he doesn't startle the girls. As soon as I get the delivery confirmation text, I sneak out and get the bags. But when I give her the exact ice cream she's crying over, she cries harder.

It's almost enough to give up.

On day nine, I make a big breakfast again before she has to go in for her shift at the hospital. The works. Maybe there weren't enough options last time. Maybe there just wasn't the right thing.

Bacon, eggs, toast, muffins, bagels, fruit, sausage, hashbrowns, fruit and yogurt parfaits with homemade granola—fine, I just dumped oats on a sheet pan and drizzled them with some honey, melted butter, and cinnamon, but I'm counting it. I made Belgian waffles for Livvy because those are her favorite, and I even squeezed the fucking orange juice this time.

Macy comes out, all bright-eyed and beautiful again in purple scrubs. She glances over the yogurt parfaits I made and the way my heart does a little jump for joy is—pathetic, probably. I hold my breath as she reaches for one. If she compliments my homemade granola, I'll consider my whole week made.

Her hand snakes right past the parfait and she snags a banana. Then she fills up her coffee and adds the same one, two count of vanilla creamer. She takes a strawberry yogurt and stuffs a few granola bars into her pockets.

And then she's gone.

Again.

That night I'm lounging on the couch, scrolling on my phone. I have more than a few texts and DMs from girls I've left on read. That's not typically like me. It's not really been a conscious decision. I simply haven't wanted to hang out with or even chat with anyone else. Not while Macy's staying here.

She's occupied all my thoughts lately.

It's not even that I have my sights on her. I'm not trying to swoop in and seduce her now that she's single or anything. I just want to hang out with her.

I've secretly hoped we could go back to where we left off at that first party before she met Spencer. Before she became stand-offish toward me. Before, I'm sure, he fed her all his one-sided stories about me. He's never liked me.

But that was wishful thinking.

Noah and Livvy are working at his tattoo shop. It's almost nine and I've been alone all night. I hate being alone.

Fuck it.

I start typing a message back to Ashlynne—we've gone out a couple times and she's good company—when Macy walks in the door.

My phone immediately goes in my pocket.

"Hey, Mace."

"Hi," she says, walking straight to the kitchen.

Her hair is falling out of the bun on top of her head in little ringlets. It looks like something spilled on her right scrub pant leg. Her eyes are red with puffy little bags and half-drooped lids.

She opens the fridge and sighs.

I saunter over, get a glass and fill it up with water. Nonchalantly.

"Do you need something to eat? I can make you something. You can sit down and take a rest. I know you've been on your feet all day."

"I'm fine. I've got it."

"Of course you do. You're a strong, intelligent, independent woman. But everybody can use help sometimes and you never—" I sigh and shut my mouth. This isn't helpful. "Never mind. I'll leave you to it." I raise my water glass and head for my room. Resigned to another quiet night.

"Wood, wait."

I stop, getting a stupid tiny rush at the thought she wants me to stay. I turn around and take a few steps back toward her.

"What were you saying? What do I never?" she asks, the cutest little crease above her nose.

I plop down on a bar stool. "You never take my help. Like…do you not trust my cooking? I've made breakfast every day this week and you haven't eaten any of it."

"Oh. I didn't realize." The crease between her eyebrows deepens. "Have I—have I been hurting your feelings?"

"A little, yeah." Maybe a lot, I don't know. I try not to dwell on it.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry. No, it has nothing to do with you or your cooking. It's me. I like routine and predictability, especially when it comes to eating."

"Because of your diabetes?"

"Yes. I like to eat the same things at the same time each day whenever I can. It helps me know exactly how much insulin to take, and I know how my levels will last, and when I'll need to check my sugar and eat again. The routine is what makes it so I don't have to think too much about it, I can do it on autopilot. Which I need when I have to use a lot of focus and brain power at work."

"Okay. Got it. That all makes sense. I'm glad we talked."

The next morning I'm pouring batter into the waffle iron for Livvy, I have eggs scrambling for myself, and a bagel sliced in half and ready to go in the toaster for Noah. And sitting on the end of the island is Macy's travel mug full of coffee with a two-second pour of vanilla creamer, one banana (the greenest one), one strawberry yogurt, two granola bars—one chocolate chip and one strawberry, and a container of almonds, all packed up in a small, insulated bag.

Macy comes out, hair up, in her teal scrubs. Her eyes aren't red-rimmed, and I didn't hear her crying herself to sleep last night. Little victories.

She stops in her tracks when she sees the bag. She looks at me and I give her a nod.

The shiny look returns to her eyes. I've been all too familiar with it lately. Tears well up and threaten to spill.

Fuck me. I can't do anything right by her.

"Thank you," she says quietly.

And then she smiles. It's the first time I've seen her smile since she's been here, and it's a real, genuine, happy smile. At me.

Saturday night. She's been here two weeks and finally the crying has stopped. At least, I haven't heard or seen any in a few days. I hope that means she's doing better.

I'm lying in bed with the window open, staring at the ceiling, hands behind my head, wondering why the fuck I'm in bed at eleven on a Saturday night instead of out. Normally I'd be on a date or throwing a party or trying to get laid. Maybe that would help.

It's never helped.

Tomorrow, Macy, Livvy, and Noah are all leaving for the week. They have wedding activities and accommodations leading up to Bex's wedding next Saturday. I'm only invited to the ceremony and reception, and I already know I'm going to miss them like crazy.

There's hushed voices in the living room—Macy and Livvy.

I turn over into my pillow and try to focus on the sound of the city outside and the warm summer breeze hitting my face instead of their conversation.

But the second Macy sniffles, I'm up, sneaking down the hall and peeking in on them.

"He's the best man. I'm going to have to see him every day. I'll have to walk down the aisle with him. I'll have to stand across from him at the altar while they're saying their vows," Macy says between hiccups. "I don't know if I can do it."

"I know. It really sucks, Mace. No one blames you for being upset," Livvy says, handing her another tissue.

I was going to get some water and just casually see if I could help with anything, but now I'm not sure what to do. So, I'm standing in the shadows of the hallway like a creep.

"Oh gosh. And it's at Spencer's parents' house. All of his family knows me, and everyone will know he dumped me, and everyone's going to pity me."

Livvy scowls. Her features are too soft to look intimidating, though. "If anyone is even the slightest bit rude to you, tell me or Bex. She will rip them a new one."

Macy nods, smiling though there are tears streaming down her cheeks. "I don't want to burden Bex. It's her wedding. I just wish I wasn't going alone." Sniffle. "I think I could handle it if I wasn't alone."

"Noah and I will hang out with you the whole time."

"I don't know if being a third wheel will be much better but thank you."

Livvy gives her a hug. "I'm heading to bed now. Will you be all right?"

Macy nods. "Yeah, I should go to bed, too. Thanks for listening to my meltdown."

Livvy chuckles. "If you think this is a meltdown, you didn't grow up with Bex."

I step back farther into the dark as Livvy goes down the other side of the hall to her and Noah's room. And now Macy is alone out on the sofa, and I have a decision to make. I can slink back into my room and pretend I never heard this conversation, or I can go out there and take a risk.

It was never a question.

She's still wiping her face when I come up behind her and offer her a new tissue.

Macy jumps, clasping her chest when she sees me. "Son of a biscuit, you scared me." She takes the tissue and quickly dabs her eyes, straightening her shoulders and clearing her throat.

"I'm sorry. I came out to get a drink of water and I overheard a bit of your conversation with Livvy."

"Oh." Her shoulders slump back down. "I must sound pathetic, huh?"

I sit on the other side of the couch and face her. "Girl—not at all." I take a deep breath and steal myself for what I'm about to say. "I have a proposition for you."

Her eyes widen.

"No, not like that. More of an offer. I'll go to the wedding with you. As your date. More, if you want. I'll play the doting boyfriend who never leaves your side. No one will feel sorry for you. In fact, I'll make sure they're all jealous of you."

She lets out a hard laugh. A real, almost cackle of a laugh. She laughs so hard, she snorts.

I bite the inside of my cheek.

"Wait—are you serious?"

"Yeah. You said you wish you didn't have to go alone. You don't have to."

Her expression sobers a bit. "That's a nice offer, Wood, but no thanks. I mean, it's silly. I don't even think people would believe you and I were together."

"What? Why not?"

"I don't know. We'd make a strange match, don't you think?"

"No. I don't think that at all."

"Really?"

I'm trying not to get my feathers all ruffled, but I'm lowkey getting my feelings hurt.

"Really," I say.

"You legitimately think people would believe you were with me ?"

I'm not exactly sure what she means by that or if I should take it as an insult or not, but she genuinely thinks the idea of her and me together is unbelievable. Talk about an ego crush.

"We'd just have to be convincing," I say.

Her lips part in a little, "Oh" and her cheeks turn the prettiest shade of pink. "Like, how?" she asks, her voice going lower.

"If you really want people to believe it, we couldn't tell anyone. Even Noah and Livvy couldn't be in on it."

"Why?"

"They're too close. Anyone in a romantic relationship or close family relationship can't be trusted with secrets. If Noah finds out, Livvy finds out, and vice versa. If Livvy finds out, Bex will, and so will Jake, then boom, Spencer knows. I'm guessing he's the last person you'd want to know."

"Yes. But, and I'm just asking hypothetically here, how would we convince Livvy and Noah? They've been living with us. They know we're not together."

"We'd have to start tonight."

She leans in. "What do you mean?"

"You'd stay in my room tonight. Then we'd make it extremely obvious in the morning when we come out together that something went down."

"Oh." She blushes harder.

Making her blush is making something…um…harder, too.

"When they ask, we tell them the same thing. The best way to sell a lie is to make sure both of our stories align, they're as close to the truth as possible, and we keep it simple. Never offer more details than necessary."

"What would we tell them?"

"We'd tell them that I came out tonight because you were crying, and I comforted you."

She looks at all the crumpled tissues around her.

"See," I say, "it's mostly true. And then we just say I comforted you too hard."

Macy gasps, then instantly starts laughing. It's the best sound.

I lean in. "That's all we'd have to say. They'd buy it."

"You really think so?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't they believe us? They have no reason to think we'd lie about something like that," I say with a smile.

She slowly smirks back. I don't think I've ever seen her smirk before. It's doing things for me.

Chill the fuck out, Wood.

"Offer's still on the table…if you want," I add.

"It's crazy," she says.

"I know."

"Okay," she says, almost in a whisper.

"That's a yes?"

"Yes," she says louder this time. "Let's do it."