One phone call was all it took to upend my entire life in completely unexpected ways.
Whoever said that you canât go home again was a lair. After the senior year from hell, I had spent a decade trying to avoid Beacon Hill and its residents. My luck came to a sudden end after daddy had an incident with a rotted floor. In and out, I promised myself. I was just there to help my parents for a week or two tops.
Things in Beacon Hill hadnât changed much since Iâd been home last. Mama still worked at the hub of gossip known as Trixieâs, Mrs. Thomas still made the best chicken salad in all of Georgia, and my sister was still the devil in a pushup bra. And of course, the St. James family was still local royalty. Our very own version of the Kennedys.
Imagine my surprise when I discovered that, not only is my sister back in town after a failed modeling career, sheâs also engaged to Macon St. James. The golden boy of Beacon Hill, and the star of every single one of my teenage fantasies.
One phone call was all it took to upend my entire life in completely unexpected ways.
Whoever said that you canât go home again was a lair. After the senior year from hell, I had spent a decade trying to avoid Beacon Hill and its residents. My luck came to a sudden end after daddy had an incident with a rotted floor. In and out, I promised myself. I was just there to help my parents for a week or two tops.
Things in Beacon Hill hadnât changed much since Iâd been home last. Mama still worked at the hub of gossip known as Trixieâs, Mrs. Thomas still made the best chicken salad in all of Georgia, and my sister was still the devil in a pushup bra. And of course, the St. James family was still local royalty. Our very own version of the Kennedys.
Imagine my surprise when I discovered that, not only is my sister back in town after a failed modeling career, sheâs also engaged to Macon St. James. The golden boy of Beacon Hill, and the star of every single one of my teenage fantasies.
Prologue
The lemonade was a soothing balm against the heat and humidity of a low country summer afternoon in all its glory. The acidity made my lips pucker, but I didnât mind. Mrs. Lehigh always made her lemonade without any extra sugar. Drinking it was a rite of passage for everyone in Beaumont County, and God help whoever had the stupidity to ask the woman for some sugar to sweeten it up.
                  âLet me refill your cup before you wander off Sutton,â Mrs. Lehigh offered, with a smile on her face. âItâs hotter than sin today.â
                  âThank you,â I replied, extending my arm toward the pitcher. âItâs getting hotter by the minute.â
Freshly filled cup clutched firmly in my hand, I turned to survey the crowd. First Baptist Churchâs annual summer festival drew people from all over the county to Beacon Hill. They had rides, food vendors, carnival games, and a craft bazaar. There were contests for pies, jams, and anything else under the sun that could be made with peaches. We were, after all, in the heart of Georgiaâs peach country.
The large crowds the festival drew meant that Mama wanted us all to look our best, which led to our annual fight about me wearing whatever sundress sheâd bought for me. I never felt comfortable in the dresses she and Sissy favored, and anyway, I had no one to impress. Being the founder and president of the high schoolâs computer club did not increase oneâs popularity. In fact, it could be argued that it led to a dramatic decrease of an already precarious social standing.
I sighed as a bead of sweat slid down my spine. My eyes cut to where I knew Mama and Daddy would beâââsure enough, they were chatting the day away with Mr. and Mrs. Lancaster at the pie table. Mama entered the peach pie contest every year, and every year, weâd pretend her pie didnât win because the contest was rigged.
Good. I thought. This is the perfect time to escape.
Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I slowly and casually made my way toward the little crop of trees behind the gazebo at the back of the church. Later, when the sun set, kids would use the small, wooded area to engage in less holy activities. I was never invited to partake in any of those activities, but I had heard enough stories to know what went on. The trees were about the only shade available, and I desperately wanted the coolness and solitude they offered.
I stopped as the gazebo came into view, dismayed to see it was already occupied by two men who looked like they were in the middle of a heated conversation. Not just any two men either, I realized, shading my eyes with my hand against the glaring afternoon sun.
Macon and Holden St. James. The two sons of the most prestigious family in the county. The St. James family was low country royaltyâââthe Kennedys of Georgia. A few times every year, theyâd descend from their estate like benevolent gods to attend various community events they deemed worthy of their presence. They wanted to give the illusion that they were members of the community, but we all knew the truth.
The only one of the entire St. James clan who actually acted like a real member of the community was Macon. He was the entire countyâs golden boy. Captain and quarterback of the football team, he had led the team to the state championship two years in a row. His athletic prowess didnât come at the expense of his grades, either. He was constantly being recognized for his academic achievements, and heâd gone on to get both an academic and football scholarship to the University of Georgia. Breaking his familyâs storied tradition of Ivy League education only made the rest of us love him more.
Every girl in our school dreamed of being the one to capture his heart, myself included. I had been in love with Macon St. James for as long as I could remember. I was ashamed to say there were entire notebooks hidden in my room, each one filled with âMrs. Macon St. Jamesâ scrawled in gel pen. I felt like my love was somehow more substantial than anyone elseâs too, because Macon had noticed me when I felt invisible to everyone.
In my freshman year, Sissy had been forced to drag me to a party one of her friends was throwing. My parents thought it was her duty as my older sister to ease my transition into high school. Sissy had reluctantly agreed, then promptly abandoned me when we got to the party. Iâd spent what felt like hours sitting alone on a couch until Macon came and sat with me. We chatted for a while, and when Iâd explained that I had come with my older sister but couldnât find her, he gave me a ride home. After the party, heâd waved at me every time we passed each other in the hallway at school. He even made a big show about signing my petition to start a computer club, knowing his support would guarantee more signatures.
It would not be dramatic to say that my heart had been absolutely broken when heâd started dating my sisterâs best friend. With my free hand, I rubbed the small ache in my chest that appeared every time I thought about Macon and Cam together. The same ache had formed when Iâd seen them walking around the festival hand in hand, stealing the occasional kiss when they thought no one was watching.
The sound of raised voices drew me out of my thoughts, and I darted behind the church wall to avoid being seen. A few seconds later, Macon walked past my hiding spot, running his hands aggressively through his wheat-colored waves. His attention seemed to be elsewhere, and he didnât even notice me standing there pressed up against the wall. I waited a few minutes before peeking around the corner. The gazebo was empty.
Now that the coast was clear, I continued my walk to the trees. The breeze was warm, but it still managed to dry some of the sweat beading on my forehead. One day, I promised myself, I would live somewhere that never got above eighty degrees. I sighed, sinking into the cool earth underneath a big old oak tree. I leaned my back against the wide trunk and stretched out my legs, ignoring the way the bark bit into the exposed skin on my shoulders. Placing my lemonade on the ground next to me, I closed my eyes and let my body relax. The tree was close enough to the gazebo that I could hear if people were coming, but it still kept me hidden from any occupants.
After only a few blissful minutes of solitude, I heard footsteps treading across the concrete of the gazebo floor. I pushed off the tree, preparing to make my presence known. I didnât want to eavesdrop on anyoneâs private conversation.
âDid you take care of it?â
The lazy drawl of the words stopped me in my tracks. I would know that voice anywhere. It belonged to Maconâs daddy.Â
âI did.â
The response was given in a younger version of that same drawl. While I was significantly less familiar with Holden, I recognized his voice as well, from the speeches heâd given at some of the charity events he had attended since graduating college this summer. Â
âGood.â An involuntary shiver worked its way through me at the sound of Mr. St. Jamesâs firm voice. âYouthful indiscretions are unavoidable, but to associate with those people is unacceptable.â
âI told him it was time to take out the trash, so to speak,â said a third voice, raspy with age that I assumed belonged to Holdenâs grandfather.
âHe did not take it well.â Holden commented, his voice unusually flat, even for him. Whereas Macon exuded warmth and charm, his older brother was all aloof arrogance. âI donât see him giving her up easily.â
âHe canât have feelings for the girl,â Mr. St. James declared, an edict lightly tinged with disbelief.
Indignation flared wild and hot in my chest. Cam was not trash. She was smart and kind and beautifulâââMaconâs equal in every way except pedigree. Her parents owned the diner in town, which was a perfectly respectable occupation.
âThat boyâs letting his dick do all his thinking,â Maconâs grandaddy scoffed.
âI donât care what heâs thinking with right now. I cannot allow his ill-advised dalliance with that Buchanan girlâââ
The rest of his words were lost to the deafening ringing in my ears. Buchanan girl. There were only two Buchanan girls in Beaumont County: me and Sissy. They were absolutely not talking about me, which left Sissy. Time seemed to move as slow as molasses while their earlier conversation came back to me. Indiscretion, dalliance, thinking with his dick.
âNo.â
The one word escaped me on a rush of air. I was too upset to even consider the possibility that the three men on the gazebo might have heard me. They couldnât be telling the truth. Macon was probably just upset because theyâd accused him of doing something so low. Even Sissy wouldnât be selfish enough to cheat with her best friendâs boyfriend.
âYou just need to find Sissy. Sheâll tell you that itâs all a lie. It is a lie,â I whispered emphatically to the trees. âIt is.â
I ignored the voice in my head that didnât quite believe my hushed assurances and peered cautiously around the tree. All three men were walking away from the gazebo, presumably on a mission to ruin the life of the next person on their list. I waited until the coast was clear, and then made my way back to the festival like the hounds of hell were close on my heels.
It took a while, but I finally managed to find someone who knew where Sissy had gone. I prayed that no one else would be in the bathroom, because I was pressure-cooker ready to burst from all the fear and anger building up inside me.
Stopping in front of the bathroom door, I listened for any voices before I pushed the door open with enough force that the sound of the doorknob connecting with the wall echoed throughout the space. Sissy didnât even flinch, the tube of her signature red lipstick gliding across her lips.
âYou slept with Macon?â The accusation burst from the deep, hurt place inside me. The Sutton who had wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt was long gone.
The question made her hesitate, and her eyes connected with mine in the mirror. Then she swiped her upper lip once more before mashing her lips together.
âWe didnât get much sleep.â She puckered her lips while pulling her ponytail tighter. Satisfied, she turned to face me, an unrepentant grin on her face.
âAre you serious?â I shook my head. âYouâre making a joke right now. You slept with Camâs boyfriend? Less than a week after she told you she was in love with him? She isâââor wasâââyour friend.â
Sissy rolled her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest. âI did her a favor. Sheâll thank me later.â
âYou did her a favor?â I shouted, dimly aware of the sounds of the festival floating through the open window. âBy cheating with her boyfriend. You canât really believe that!â
âI didnât cheat on anyone. Iâm single as they come. Heâs the cheater here, and itâs better that Cam found out now instead of down the road when sheâs got two kids and a mortgage.â
âYes, you are! Youâre just as much a cheater as he is, because you knew, you knew, that he had a girlfriend, and you did it anyway!â
âOh, grow up, Sutton!â She dropped her arms, taking a step my way. âYouâre not upset about what I did or didnât do to Cam. Youâre upset that Macon turned out to be just as big a sack of shit as the rest of the men in this townâââhell, probably the whole goddamn world. You think I donât know you cried into your pillow all night when you heard that he was dating Cam and it was getting serious? You should thank me too. I just saved you from spending another ten years crying over a man whoâs never going to want you.â
âThis isnât about me!â I interrupted, ignoring the heat infusing my face and the bone-deep hurt of her words. I let the truth of them fuel my anger. âThis is about you, your actions! You donât get to make this about anyone else, and you sure as shit donât get to make yourself out to be some kind of hero.â
She took a menacing step toward me, lifting her hand to point one perfectly manicured finger at me.
âYou are so fucking naĂŻve. I saw something I wanted, and I took it. Do you think the world is just going to magically grant your wishes? No, you have to make it happen. Things are never going to just fall in your lap, no matter how many fucking stars you wish on. If you want something in life, you have to take it.â
I shoved her finger out my face.
âWeâre not talking about things. These are people. People whose feelings youâre going to hurt, badly.â
âYou can cast me as the villain in whatever made-up world you live in if it makes you feel better, but the truth is that you hate me because I got what you want. You donât give a shit about Cam and her feelings.â
âIf you knew about . . .â I hesitated before continuing, âmy feelings for Macon, then that makes what you did even worse. How could you be so selfish and cruel?â
âOh, please, quit with the Saint Sutton act. If you had the chance to have sex with Macon St. James, you would have grabbed it with both hands, Cam be damned.â She smirked, her eyes glinting with a hardness someone her age shouldnât have. âBut we both know that youâll never have the chance. Macon hardly even knows you exist, andââââ her gaze drifted from my Converse-clad feet to the braid wrapped around my crown, and she sneered ââââwho can blame him?â
My heart cracked a little more at the ease with which she used my insecurities to wound me.
âWhy?â I asked, my voice a hoarse, sad thing. I felt the first fat tear escape and roll down my cheek, and I hated myself for showing weakness in front of her. âWhy did you do it?â
She leaned in like she was about to share a secret that she didnât want overheard, so close I had to tip my head up to meet her eyes.
âBecause I could.â
With that parting shot, she straightened and brushed past me. I heard the door open and close, allowing the sounds of the festival to drift in. People were laughing and carrying on like my whole world hadnât just been ripped to shreds
Pretend with Me opens with a prologue looking into the lives of Sutton and her older sister, Sissy, as adolescents vying for the same young man. Sutton silently moons after the guy of her dreams. In contrast, Sissy takes the direct and unscrupulous route of having a fling with him even though he's dating her best friend. This reveals Sissy's character and starts a rift between the sisters that leads to estrangement, still in effect when the story opens years later.
The writing is polished and fresh, including many catchy lines. I felt Sutton's character coming alive on the pages. Fantastic! Mayer has a knack for writing Southern graces. I want to read books like this.
Sadly, I didn't like Sissy, who came across as an irredeemable, uninteresting villain. Unfortunately, I didn't love Sutton's mean-spirited comments about her sister. She came across as immature and snarky, especially when she related to Sissy, but at other times too. I had such a difficult time with the early aspects, in the prologue and opening chapters, that I was so tempted to skim. While so much of Mayer's dialog is punchy and natural, some sections are slow (long passages of dialog share backstory about the sisters' antagonism). I had difficulty staying present for them, even though they conveyed critical history.
However, there's so much more to the story, and it's worth it to keep reading! I always want to find the part that resonates most. Sutton is energetic, funny, and good to her friends. I love her career as a video game designer; once the story develops, it's easier to get behind her. There's a lovely enemies-to-lovers romance here too! You will like Mayer's style of writing love.
I was torn between giving this story three and four stars and would have given it not quite four if there had been an option, but I'll round up every chance I get. There's much to enjoy about Mayer's writing; I hope to see more from her. I hope you'll give Pretend with Me a shot. You won't be disappointed!