Page 10 of I Choose You

“Who dared who to do what?” Luke approaches then and interrupts our conversation, his hand moving to rest on my shoulder to give it a friendly squeeze. Layla smiles and waves the second I glance over, her assured grin brightening her unblemished face.

“What the hell took you so long? The place is starting to get packed.” Mason reaches forward, does his usual handshake with his brother, then tips his head toward Layla. “Thought you were here to keep this one in line.”

“Sorry,” Layla apologizes with a wince. “My fault. We had an uncooperative patient, and I needed to brief the nurses that came in at shift change. Luke was actually early to pick me up, but duty calls.”

“You sure you’re not late because you found Luke staring at himself in the mirror longingly?” Mason jokes, earning a glare from his brother. “Oh, what? You don’t do that anymore?”

“You walked in on that one time, and what the fuck does it matter to you? Someone needs to appreciate this face, these lips, my d—”

“Oookay,” I draw out uncomfortably, bringing my fingers to plug my ears dramatically. “We don’t need to hear about your dingaling, Luke.”

Luke beams with smugness. “I was going to say dimples, Kenzie. Now I’m more curious about who the hell calls it a, what did you say, dingaling?”

I roll my eyes.

“Dingaling, shmingaling,” Layla singsongs before pointing out teasingly, “I like your dimples more.”

“Exactly. Besides, they both start with a ‘d,’ so if you like one, that means you have to like the other, right?” Luke questions, winking at Layla seductively with an ulterior motive, then leans across to press a kiss to her cheek.

Seeing their affection almost makes me wish I weren’t so strict with my heart. There’s a gap in my childhood where things weren’t so easy. Tremendous change developed into instability in the snap of a finger. I would be lying if I said I didn’t sometimes wish I could go back and change it all. If I could, maybe I’d be more willing to let go and be okay with the idea of letting someone in.

Mason rips a bite of chicken from a wing, chews, and swallows before tossing the bones on a community plate in the middle of the table we’re sharing for scraps. “There’s something I need to share.”

My ears perk up as I dip my wing in a circular container of ranch dressing and glance between Mason and my food.

Luke’s head raises in question, his teeth mid-bite into a saucy double fried chicken wing. He licks the sauce from his fingers. “What’s up, man? Did you meet someone?”

Layla and I are quiet as we wait for Mason’s reply. The muscles in my upper back and shoulders tense as if they’re one. Intuition makes me brace for impact. My stomach balances on the edge of what feels like a plank, making me realize that I am wholeheartedly anticipating his answer. Did Mason meet someone? Is that why he invited us to Jimmy’s for an impromptu wing night? I rub the outside of my wrist along my throat and chalk its sudden tightness up to the hot sauce slathered on my food.

Mason looks taken aback by Luke’s remark. “What?” He shakes his head. “No.”

My stomach lurches to a stop, preparing for impact.

“I’m just saying. It’s been a while.” Luke shrugs nonchalantly and continues eating.

Mason ignores his comment. “You guys know I’ve been working a lot lately.” He reaches for a packet of wet wipes the waiter left to clean his wing-stained fingers. Bright orange buffalo sauce smears across his skin as he wipes and avoids eye contact.

“Lately?” Luke questions. “More like since you got the job.”

I nod in agreement, though Mason misses it since he’s too focused on his hands.

“And you know I’ve been a one-man show.”

Luke bites into another wing, devours the meat on it, then tosses it onto the plate of scraps. “Spit it out, Mase.”

Mason clears his throat and rubs his hands together before tenting them at his chin and looking back at us. “They’re giving me a promotion. They have a team who would assist me with my accounts. There’s, apparently, a backlist of clients who want to work with me. I’m considering it…”

“Considering?” Layla’s eyebrows lower. “Don’t you mean already accepted?”

Up until now, I was keeping my gaze on my food for a reason. The wall that it creates to avoid eye contact is the only thing keeping me from the dangerous waters below the damn plank I’m teeter-tottering on. I almost fall to my death when Mason hooks his foot on mine under the table to steal my attention. Of course, I make the mistake of lifting my head and catching sight of his green eyes. They stare into my soul and for good reason—to see if I’m processing his news appropriately.

“It’s in Austin.”

Inside, I gasp.

Outside, I’m quiet as a mouse.

Texas? He can’t be serious.

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