Page 76 of Calling the Shots

I pack a wide variety of clothing to be on the safe side. I’m cramming the last pair of shoes into my bright pink suitcase when Mack walks into my bedroom.

“Whoa. That’s a big bag.”

I glance over my shoulder. “You think? I went with the medium-sized one, too. I have an even bigger suitcase, but didn’t want to be too over the top.”

He furrows his brow at me, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hmm. I’m not sure the mission was accomplished.”

“You didn’t tell me too much about the vibe of the weekend. Like, is this a cozy holiday where everyone kicks around in jammies all day? Or are y’all sporty? Running a 5K or something before you eat a big dinner. Do you wear matching holiday outfits?” I run through all the possibilities, listing each one off on my fingers.

“Scratch cozy holiday off the list. You will never see my mother in her pajamas, matching or otherwise.”

My gut squeezes and I wonder for the thousandth time what exactly I’m getting myself into.

“Okay, so no matching jammies. What about athleisure wear? Yeah or nay?” I hold a pair of black leggings up in the air, along with a matching top.

Mack shrugs. “It’s fine for the house. But if we go out anywhere, the dress code will be more formal.”

Now it’s my turn to scrunch up my brow.

“More formal? Like jeans? A nice blouse? What are we talking here?”

“Definitely not jeans. I never really pay much attention to what the women wear. But I’ll be in chinos and a dress shirt, most likely with a jacket.”

Dread churns through me as I eye my suitcase packed with all the wrong things. I misread this whole weekend, apparently. I maybe threw in one dress, to be on the safe side. Mack never told me the dress code is business formal.

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” I try to tamp down the hysteria creeping into my voice. We’re supposed to leave in a few minutes, and I don’t have any of the right clothes.

Mack rakes a hand through the waves of his hair. “Sorry. I assumed you’d know.”

“How would I know?” My voice pitches up. So much for not getting hysterical. Heat floods through me and my chest tightens as I frantically unpack my bag. “I don’t have any of the right stuff, Mack. And I’ve been packing for a week!”

“Hey, it’s fine.” He comes behind me, circling my waist with his arms and pulling me up against him.

“No, it’s not.” My voice shakes along with my hands as I toss item after item out of my suitcase. “I probably don’t have anything nice enough to wear, especially for a holiday!”

“Gracelyn…” He grips my hips, spinning me around to face him. “Personally, I don’t give a fuck what you wear. My favorite look of yours is buck ass naked. Wear whatever you feel most comfortable in.”

I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes. This weekend’s off to a rocky start already and we haven’t even left Thunder Creek yet.

“It matters to me, Mack. This is the first time I’m meeting your family and I want to—need to—make a good first impression.”

“Hey—” With his index finger, he tips my chin up to meet his gaze. “I love you. My family will love you. I get that you want to look good, and I’m sure you will. Everything looks good on you.”

My heart soars as he drops his lips to mine.

Mack loves me. And I love him.

I relax into his kiss. Warm and comforting, like a worn leather coat on a chilly autumn day.

“I love you, too,” I murmur against his mouth, fizzy happiness flowing through me alongside the panic. “Help me repack? Please? So we’re not late?”

“Sure.”

I pull away from him, mentally running through my clothing options. Mack helps me whittle the options down and half an hour later, I have my suitcase packed and ready to go.

“See? Crisis averted.” He brushes a stray hair from my eyes, cupping my cheek. “All good.”

I relax and let his words wash over me, sweeping away the doubt and anxiety from earlier.

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