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“Pretend like this is normal.”
“Right, silly me. Get inside the house,” he barks.
I glare up at him.
He smirks. “That’s what I thought. So, how was your day?”
“Terrible, thanks to you.” I sidestep, looking for a way around him, but he simply shifts to the side. He’s so big. Ihate being short. If I was tall and a little stronger, maybe I could knock him on his ass.
“You seemed happy when Rose was there.”
My focus zooms to his face. “Spying on people is creepy.” Doesn’t he have anything better to do?
“By most people’s standards,” he says with a shrug.
“Ah, right. I forgot you have your head up your ass.”
His nose wrinkles. “Is that what that smell is?”
I bite my cheek to keep from smiling, because while it’s funny, I refuse to findhimfunny. Shaking my head, I aim for the small gap to his left.
He blocks it.
My pulse flutters. Huffing, I scowl at him. “Do you want to get married or not?”
“Cassia, you could have just asked.”
“Jesus Christ. You’re not fucking cute,” I snap, my lips tugging into a grin that I quickly correct.
He pulls out his phone, presses something, and puts it to his ear.
“What are you doing?”
He holds up a finger. “Shh. Hi, Mom. Yeah, I have terrible news?—”
“Oh my god,” I say, deciding to push my way through before I lose it. My hands collide with his chest, shoving, but as expected, he’s immovable as a mountain. I growl and push harder.
Mace drops the phone and wraps his fingers around my wrist. The device cracks on the concrete step. He doesn’t even care. This man has a severe lack of respect for phones.
I try to yank my hands away, but his grip is tight. “Let me go.”
“Cassia.”
“What?” I snap, seething as I stare up at him.
“There are snacks in the kitchen.” With that, he drops my hands and walks away, leaving the phone and shoving his hands into his pockets. “Oh, and Vivian Carlisle will be here soon.”
My mouth drops open.TheVivian Carlisle?
The snacks Chef left are delicious. I didn’t realize how grumpy and hungry I was until Mace told me there was food. I finish eating and then hop into the shower, determined to garner at least some sense of dignity for Vivian.
She’s every bride’s dream designer.
Outside of wedding gowns, she has another, edgier, line that I love. Mace may not realize it, but she’s my favorite designer. She’ll be here soon. Nerves flutter in my chest. I could never afford one of her dresses, let alone personalized tailoring services.
The tightness in my lungs has my gaze shooting to the orange bottle of emergency anxiety medicine. I could take some, but then I may not make it down the aisle, or whatever I’m walking down, and I’ve already suffered through enough anticipation. I can’t go through another day of waiting to marry Mace. Though I wish those were happy thoughts, they’re dripping with dread.
On the bright side, maybe with Mace’s money, I can buy Vivian’s entire line of dresses. We’ll see how much he likes that bill.