“Maci, this is dumb. We’ve got to stop this game we’ve been playing. It’s stupid, and your neighbor kinda had a point, even though he didn’t seem to have all the facts. It’s not just me keeping us a secret, but I’m done with it. I’m almost twenty-four, Maci. My parents expect me to be married by the time I’m twenty-five.”
“Oh Jesus,” I whispered when he started walking toward me.
“I become a partner in Dad’s firm on my twenty-fifth birthday, I can’t go into the firm single. You know this.”
No, I so did not know that.
He grabbed my hips and pulled me close, his eyes roaming over my whited-out hair. “We’ll get your hair back to blond, and we’ll take this out,” he murmured, tapping the small hoop on my left nostril. “As for the tattoos . . . we’ll cover them when we make appearances.”
“Appearances? Wh—”
“Babe, you know I think you’re hot . . . God you’re so sexy, but I need the tame-looking Maci in public. You can be this when it’s just us. Okay? As soon as you look normal again, we’ll announce our engagement.”
I’d known Bryce had always thought we’d end up together. Just like I’d known he’d expected me to go back to the old me. I just hadn’t realized that when the conversation would finally happen, it would hurt so much. When we were with friends, he didn’t care who saw us together. But saying that if we were to continue with an actual relationship, I could only be me in private? That I needed to get back to “normal?” This was my normal.
My eyes welled up with tears and my throat tightened as the crashing realization hit me that not only was I not good enough Connor Green. I wasn’t even good enough for someone like Bryce anymore. It’d been my idea to keep us in the friends-with-benefits zone. But he’d still been the only guy to ever show any type of affection toward me. The only guy to show he cared about me as something other than a sister.
“Babe, don’t cry. It’s just, like this, you look like the mistress . . . not the wife. I need you to be my wife.”
A sob burst from my chest and I slapped my hand over my mouth as I tried to pull away from his arms.
“You and I both know it’s time. It’s time for us to move forward, and it’s time for you and me to grow up. We need to stop acting like we’re still in college, and we need to look ready for the world. No one is going to take you seriously when you look like this and dress the way you do. It was one thing in school, but now—”
“Get. The fuck. Out.”
My eyes shot up past Bryce’s shoulder to see Connor standing there. His face was slowly turning red in anger.
“I swear to Christ I will break your neck if you say one more word to her.”
Bryce breathed heavily through his nose before turning his head to look over his shoulder. “Now you’re in an apartment that isn’t yours. It’s your turn to leave, we’re talking about something important.”
“Yeah, no, I heard. You can talk about it again another time when you’re not making her cry. And I’ll give you a clue if you haven’t caught on yet, she’s not crying because she’s happy.”
“You’re really starting to piss me off.”
“Go,” I choked out. “Please, go.”
One of Bryce’s arms left my waist to gesture toward the door. “You heard her.”
“You, Bryce.”
He turned back to me, his eyebrows pinched together. “What?”
“Go. Just . . . please. We’ll talk later.”
“Fine,” he huffed softly and released me. “I’ll call you tomorrow, babe. I know you have a lot to think about.”
I did. I had so much to think about, but not about what he was insinuating.
He left after a long glare directed in Connor’s direction, and once the door was shut, Connor looked at me like I’d betrayed him. He closed the distance between us and stood there watching me for a few moments before setting an Aveeno box down on the counter.
“It’s an oatmeal bath to help with the itching,” he answered my unspoken question, and looked at me sadly. Grabbing my left hand, he glanced at it for a brief second before dropping it and stepping away, his head shaking slowly back and forth. “I hope like hell you didn’t say ‘yes’ to him.”
I JOLTED AWAKE and grabbed at my phone, ringing loudly, and almost dropped it in the process of answering it.
“ ’lo?”
“Wake up, bitch! It’s the first of December, Christmas decorating day!”
I groaned and rolled over onto my back. “What time is it, Amber?”
“Who cares, and did you just groan? You don’t groan when there’s anything in your immediate future that has to do with Christmas. Get your ass out of bed. I’m coming to pick you up.”
After Connor had quickly left my apartment last night, leaving me stunned and sobbing; I’d texted Amber letting her know I wasn’t going out, and got in the tub with the Aveeno. I’d spent hours repeating everything Bryce had said, and poring over all that had happened between Connor and me in the previous forty-eight hours. None of it made sense with Connor, and half of what he did left me wanting him more, and thinking that in some insane alternate universe, I could have a chance with him. The other half had me feeling like a child, and added to Bryce’s words . . . a joke.
When my tears had stopped, an embarrassing amount of time later, I’d called Bryce and more or less told him to screw himself. That I wouldn’t marry him, and I wouldn’t change for anyone, including him. Funny thing about that is, I couldn’t help but stare at myself in the mirror for an hour after, trying to convince myself that I was happy with who I was and that I didn’t want to go back to the old Maci.
Bryce had told me to sleep on it.
“Maci!” Amber sang my name, drawing it out.
“You are not a morning person, go back to sleep!”
“Too late, I’m already on my way.”
I started to groan again, but stopped myself. “Okay, I’m up. Pick up coffee and a muffin, and I’ll blast Christmas music while I get ready, that will get me in the mood.”
“Consider it done! See you in twenty-ish.”
I hopped out of bed and ran over to my radio to turn on the Christmas station. Once it was on and the music was loud, I practically bounced around my apartment as I sang along with the songs and rushed to get ready. I checked the weather app on my phone and sighed. It was finally December, and it was still in the mid-sixties. Stupid California weather.
Once I was dressed and ready, I grabbed the box of remaining oatmeal bath packets and walked over to Connor’s door. Just before my hand grabbed the door handle, I heard a feminine laugh followed by Connor’s, and froze. Letting the box slip from my fingers, I left it in front of his door and went back to my apartment, waiting for Amber to call me. There was no way he could stand up for me the way he did, and say the things he said all day yesterday . . . especially last night . . . and me not be affected by them. Or not be upset that he had another girl, or Sadie again, in his apartment.
“You ready to get decorations, and Christmas-out our apartments?” Amber said with an excited look on her face as I got into her car.
Taking the pastry bag from her, I pulled a piece off the muffin and popped it in my mouth. “Mmm-hmm!”
“This weather sucks though, huh? It needs to be gloomy or something at least. But, no, it’s bright and sunny, barely cold enough for a hoodie. Whatever.”