Page 12 of Make Me Want it Too

“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.

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