Page 70 of I Choose You

He looks around, his attention bouncing around the pick-up area. “Okay, and what was so wrong with that? It’s not a half bad idea with how much you two have been fucking.”

I give him a look.

“I might not be around the house a lot, but when I am, I’m reminded of how thin the walls are.”

I ignore his dramatics. “I told him no.”

“That’s why he’s so upset?”

“No.” I shake my head and glance down at my thumb hooked through the strap of my luggage bag. “He told me I was worth the effort of a long-distance relationship…and the way I replied…”

“What? What did you say?”

I peer up at him, his face tight with concern and interest. “These were his words…” It’s another sixteen words I haven’t been able to forget. “It doesn’t matter if I’m willing to go the distance. You’re the one who isn’t willing.”

“And is he wrong?”

I can’t say the words to confirm, so I shake my head instead, verifying that Mason is spot-on. Mostly. Our reasons are different, but it’s the same conclusion.

“Jesus Christ, Mackenzie.” He looks back at the car, seeing Mason face forward as he waits. Not a muscle—from what I can tell—moves. He’s the essence of calm. It’s how I know he’s not calm at all. When there’s intense emotion moving through him, he shuts down. He doesn’t shout or yell but turns inward. It’s how he’s always been.

My words aren’t sitting well with him.

I’ve turned him into a statue of a man who doesn’t care to talk or share emotion, whose anger comes out as quiet indifference and not being able to acknowledge his twin brother.

“So, you broke his fucking heart? This is great.” Luke pauses, lowering his voice. “I told the both of you to be careful fucking around like you were.”

Guilt may roll off me in waves, but his scolding doesn’t stop me from rolling my eyes. He might have warned us and told us to consider what could happen, but we’re adults. Our decisions and choices primarily impact us. Soon enough, Mason will go about his life as if this never happened. I’ll do the same, but right now, it’s fresh and stings, and it’d be nice if Luke could exercise sympathy.

“We’re not in love, Luke. We were having fun,” I tell him, though I think I say it more to convince myself.

He lifts his eyebrows. They’re a replica of Mason’s, dark and bushy and perfect. Before turning and climbing into his car, he knocks me off balance with a mouthful of honesty. “You sure about that? The last time Mason got all broody and shit like this was when he broke up with that girl freshman year of high school. They were together for a year. You two have been up each other’s asses for what, two weeks, and he’s reverted to when that girl broke his heart? Add it up. Put the damn pieces together. I know I sound like an asshole right now, but I’m being real with you. He confessed his love by asking you to move to Austin with him, and you dropped a bomb that leveled his heart in return.”

32

Mackenzie

“You don’t look too good.”

Owen doesn’t need to tell me. I feel terrible. Sweat is caked under my boobs so badly that my room smells like a sandwich shop. My body aches as if I ran five miles uphill, my face pale and sticky. And the nausea…don’t even get me started on that. It comes and goes in waves, but when it comes, it comes. I swear someone is out to get me. Ever since I broke Mason’s heart, bad things have been happening. The week after we came back from Austin, I had my worst week of turnaround adoptions ever. And now this. I’m convinced I caught the flu a few days ago. That, and my period started this morning.

A double, triple, quadruple whammy if I ever saw one.

It’s the first time since starting at Jessie’s that I’ve taken off for two consecutive days, but I barely have the energy to go to the bathroom, let alone work for eight hours a day. The symptoms from the flu and my period merging are hell.

“I don’t feel so good,” I tell him.

He stares through his laptop camera at me, squinting. “You said it’s the flu?”

“I think so.” A bout of nausea comes over me, and I rub at my stomach. “How have you been? Better than me, I hope.”

Owen is back in Pittsburgh full-time. I haven’t seen him since we went paintballing together, and I miss him. A lunch date would have been nice when I got back from Texas, but until I see him again, video chatting will have to do.

“So-so. Work is busy with the holidays coming. Always is during this time of year.”

“At least it’s keeping you busy. I wish I could be at work. It’s nerve-wracking being in this house, especially in the evening.”

His face softens. “Is it still that bad?”

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