Page 51 of Make Me Want it Too

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.

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