Page 58 of Make Me Dream of You

“It tickles.” Macy scrunches up her face as Bex applies some concealer under her eyes.

We’ve moved to the bathroom, all three of us crowded in here, Bex’s makeup bag exploded all over the counter.

It reminds me of when Bex and I were little, twelve and eight, and she would pull me into her closet, dress me up in her clothes, and put tons of makeup on my face. I loved her giving me all that attention. I always looked up to her and thought she was so cool.

It wasn’t until years later, after our parents’ divorce, that I put together she only did it when they were screaming at each other downstairs.

“Stop being a baby. I’m only using a little bit.” Bex tilts Macy’s chin side to side, looking at her work. “See, great. I’m not even going to use foundation because your skin is flawless, and I don’t want to cover up any of those freckles.”

I stand to the side, eating chips, having been designated Bex’s assistant, or “brush bitch” as I’ve decided is more accurate.

“I need that big angled one for the blush.”

I hand Bex the biggest angled brush.

“This one is for bronzer.”

“Oh. Oops.” I trade it for another, slightly smaller angled brush.

“Thanks.”

Clearly, she should have said second biggest angled brush.

“You look so pretty. Spencer is going to fall over himself when he sees you.” Bex smiles at Macy, who looks on the verge of tearing up.

Bex finishes Macy’s makeup while I finish this bag of chips. Macy normally doesn’t wear more than mascara and Chapstick. It’s strange seeing her all done up, but she really does look beautiful.

She has on the black dress and a pair of Bex’s heels. Then she starts to take her curlers out.

“Oh no. Bex, oh no.”

“What?” Bex goes over and helps take out the back ones.

Macy’s normally curly hair has a more blown-out look and is sticking straight up from her head.

“My hair! It looks terrible. Holy crap!” She glances at me. “Excuse my language.” She looks back in the mirror. “Oh no, oh no, oh no. Spencer is going to be here any minute.”

“It’s fine,” Bex assures her. “We can fix it. Don’t cry—you’ll ruin your makeup.”

“Okay,” Macy says, tearing up.

“Stop it!”

“Should I get the wine?” I ask.

“No,” Macy says at the same time Bex says, “Yes.”

Ten minutes and a glass of wine later, Macy has settled down enough her face barely looks splotchy anymore and Bex has managed to tame her hair into somewhat of a chignon.

We walk out to the living room at the same time Wood is leaving, dressed in a dark blue pair of jeans and a fitted black button-up shirt. He stops at the door, adjusting his watch, then catches a glimpse of us.

He pauses, fingers still on his watchband. “Wow. You are absolutely stunning, Mace.”

“Thanks.” Macy takes another shaky sip of her white wine.

“She does look great,” Bex agrees. “See, tell her Spencer would have to be an idiot not to propose to her tonight after six years.”

Wood’s gaze lingers on Macy’s face for several more beats. “A complete idiot.” He shakes the daze off his face, his signature lopsided smile reappearing. “Have a nice night, ladies.”

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