“Where’s the champagne, Dre? I thought you were in charge of drinks?”
“Oh shit, I forgot, I—”
Mack opens the door and everyone files in.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say as I pull out my phone. “I’ll take care of it.” I give Andre a fake smile, but he can’t tell the difference. I know someone who apparently can, if his glare means anything, and I’m not sure how to feel about that.
“Hi, this is Alex Brewer from the Brewer-Thomas Wedding. Yes. If you would so kindly send up—”I hold the phone to my chest as I meet Mack’s gaze. The girls start giggling about something and Andre and Hudson are laughing their asses off.
“What do you want?” I ask, blinking at Mack.
“What doIwant?”He scoffs, eyebrows raised.
“Today, Mackenzie.”
He glares at me, huffing out an annoyed grunt. “Champagne is fine, I guess. I don’t fucking know what these assholes want.”
I roll my eyes, getting back on the phone. “Yes, I’m still here, babe. I’ll take two bottles of champagne, a bottle of vodka and some mixers, extra cherries, please, and oh—can you toss in some appetizer platters? You know the ones with the wings and the cheese sticks and stuff? Yeah, give us like four of those. Oh! And I could really go for a shrimp cocktail.” I hold the phone to my chest again, meeting Mack’s steely gaze. “You sure you don’t want anything else?”
He shrugs. “What I want isn’t on the menu.”
I grin. “We’ll see about that,” I say before I finish up my phone conversation.
“Yeah, charge it to Diana Brewer, please.”
I’ll get shit for charging all of this to my mother’s account, but a part of me feels almost gleeful knowing it’s going to irritate the shit out of her. She’ll pay it, though. She wouldn’t be caught dead looking anything but perfect in the eyes of our loathsome family. I have to get my digs in where I can, since the only thing my parents understand is money rather than words.
When the food and drinks finally come, everyone’s too tired to do much else other than eat, and as such, they all leave not long after.
“Amateurs,” I gripe as they all make excuses to leave, but honestly, I don’t really care.
It’s late and everyone’s been up for hours. I make my way towards the door, but Mack’s voice stops me.
“Where are you going?” he asks. He hasn’t touched the champagne since it arrived, instead he’s been nursing his bottled water for the last two hours.
Probably not a bad idea, considering all the alcohol he’s consumed. My last round of champagne is starting to wear off already, and I feel a headache coming on.
“Uh… back to my room?” I raise an eyebrow, my hand poised above the doorknob.
He caps his water, setting it down on the nightstand. The room is littered with empty glasses and plastic cups, boxes and plates of food spread out along the dressers and any ledge available.
“I didn’t tell you to leave,” he says nonchalantly.
I lick my lips, looking between him and the door.
“You asking me to stay, Mackenzie?” I ask, dropping my hand from the door knob.
He twists his lips as he grabs a plate of untouched cheese sticks and wings, and the large, barely-touched shrimp cocktail.
I’d had every intention of devouring it upon arrival, but I’d gotten sidetracked with pouring everyone’s drinks and making sure they all got something to eat. Plus, I had to make sure no one ended up injured because they were all dancing and jumping on the bed like little kids, laughing up a drunk storm.
“Maybe.” He shrugs, taking the food and plopping down on his bed. He grabs the remote and turns theTV on. He doesn’t look at me, just sets the large glass goblet of iced shrimp and cocktail sauce between his legs. I make my way over to him, worried that at any minute he’ll realize I’m actually still here. That he’ll change his mind about… whatever this is.
He flips through the channels. I sit next to him carefully, kicking my shoes off. They hit the floor with a thud and I get comfortable on the other side of the bed. I pick up the plate of wings and cheese sticks, settle next to him, and sit the plate of appetizers in my lap.
“Well, if you insist,” I say, trying to hide my grin.
I watch as he flips through the channels, and for a minute I think maybe he’s tuned me out completely, until he pulls his gaze from the television and looks at me, and damn it, my heart fucking stops.
