Page 24 of Make Me Want it Too

Next to the itinerary is a little note from Bex thanking me for being her maid of honor and saying how happy she is that I’m here to share her special day.

I haven’t been much of a maid of honor, to be honest. She’s been busy with wedding plans, and I’ve been wallowing in my breakup the last two weeks.

She assured me that Jake’s family and the wedding coordinator they hired were doing the bulk of the legwork and not to worry about helping with the planning, but I think she’s been afraid I’ll burst into tears if she mentions the wedding too much.

That assumption isn’t wrong.

It’s five forty-five, and I’m dizzy again. I checked my blood sugar levels, and they’re good, so it’s not that. It can’t still be seasickness.

There’s a knock at the door, and my forehead breaks out in a sweat. What if it’s Spencer?

“Mace, can I come in?” Wood says from the hall.

Oh. “Uh, yeah.”

The door clicks open, and he steps in. He’s changed, now wearing light gray slacks and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up over his tanned forearms. The top button is undone casually, and his dark blond hair is tousled back in an effortless sort of way that only highlights his perfect bone structure.

No one should look this good. It’s frustrating.

And no one is going to believe we’re together. It’s ridiculous. And everyone’s going to know. And Spencer will think I’m pathetic and be so happy he dodged such an embarrassing bullet and broke up with me.

The room is spinning, and my face is wet, and now I’m on the floor. How did I end up on the floor?

“Macy! Mace, you okay?” Wood’s arms are around me as he lifts me off the floor and sits me on the bed.

I look up at him as he starts to move in. “No, don’t come near me! I don’t want to ruin your shirt.” Again.

He tilts his head, lips parting just enough to show a hint of white teeth. “I have more shirts.”

“No. You shouldn’t wear white shirts around me. I’m a mess.” I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, tears streaked down my cheeks. “And now I’m going to make us late. I’m sorry.” This realization makes more tears come.

“Mace—” Wood cups my shoulder and looks me square in my crying, messy face. “I don’t care if we’re late. We get there when we get there. Take as much time as you need.”

I nod, not knowing what to say. If I made us late for anything, Spencer wouldn’t have let me hear the end of it.

In the bathroom, I dab my cheeks, wipe under my eyes, and refresh my makeup. Then I go back out to Wood, who’s waiting in the chair, on his phone, not a care in the world. All easy-breezy-beautiful-Cover-Girling it.

He looks up, putting his phone away as he stands. “Feeling better?”

I nod. I’m not.

“Are you ready?”

Again, I nod. I’m not.

He squints. “You sure?”

“Uh-huh.” But I’m shaking my head this time. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Do what?”

“This. All of this. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to his family. How I’m supposed to act. I’m going to see him for the first time since—” I take a deep breath, but it’s too shallow. The room is starting to get spinny again.

Then Wood’s right there again. His blue eyes calm. The room isn’t spinny anymore.

“I’ll do all the talking if you need me to. You want me to steer us clear of Spencer? Done. And if you want out of a conversation or situation, just squeeze my hand twice real quick, just like this”—he squeezes my hand in quick succession—“and I’ll get you out of there.”

“Okay.” My heart’s still racing. “But I don’t know if— I’m not sure if I can be convincing about—” I gesture between us. “This. Us. The pretending.”

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