Page 21 of Make Me Want it Too

“Relax,” he whispers, his breath tickling the shell of my ear.

“I’m trying,” I grit through my teeth.

He squeezes my hip.

We didn’t talk about touching. Not that I hate it—we just didn’t talk about it.

Spencer never touched me like this in front of people. He wasn’t into public displays of affection. He didn’t do much in private, either, now that I think of it. He just isn’t a touchy feely guy, I guess.

I hate the fact I still think about him all the time. I hate that I wasted so many years with him. I hate that he still has a hold over me.

Why doesn’t he want to be with me? Why wasn’t I good enough?

“Mace?”

I glance up. Wood must have asked me something and I missed it.

“Huh?”

He smiles, unbothered. “Can I get you something to eat?” he asks.

“Oh. Right. Um, yeah, sure.” I already had the banana this morning while we were waiting to make our “entrance” since Noah and Livvy tend to sleep in later. I was surprised how early Wood was up, considering he’s unemployed.

“Distracted?” he asks.

I nod.

“Still thinking about last night?” He winks as he goes to get a mug down.

Heat returns to my face.

While his back is turned, Livvy catches my attention and mouths “Oh, my god!” as she gives me a big smile and thumbs up.

I smile back, cheeks burning.

Is this it? Is this all we have to do for people to believe we hooked up? No questions? No skeptical looks? Maybe Wood sleeps with enough women that it’s believable he’d slum it every once in a while. We can’t all be nines and tens.

Maybe they think he felt sorry for me.

That makes the most sense.

I eat my yogurt quietly while Wood sings “Let’s Hear it for the Boy” while he scrambles eggs. I’m thankful he does the bulk of the talking.

When I’m done I excuse myself up to the loft to go get dressed. My suitcase is sitting there, at the top of the stairs, all packed for the week of Bex’s wedding activities. She sent the itinerary last week. I double-check everything again—all the outfits, dresses, swimsuit, workout gear, my toiletries, my medical supplies, plus extras, and oh—almost forgot—my Garfield sleep shirt.

Today’s the day. The ferry leaves at two o’clock, and we’ll be on the way to Spencer’s family’s place for a week of celebrating love. I can’t figure out if the queasiness in my stomach is from the thought of the boat ride or seeing Spencer for the first time since the breakup.

I thought after six years, he’d at least call or text me after. But there’s been nothing.

I lug the heavy suitcase down the metal steps, having gotten into comfortable jeans and a loose-fitting tank top.

“Let me get that for you!” Wood leaps and runs up the stairs to snag the suitcase from me.

“I’ve got it.”

He leans in, hand over mine on the handle. “I know you do, but do you think I’d let my girl carry her own luggage?”

Oh.

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