Page 78 of I Choose You

“Will do.”

I take off in the elevator’s direction, riding it to the fourth floor. My hands grow sticky with sweat as I consider what Doyle said about Mason’s subdued mood. Right away, my thoughts go to the argument from last time. I can’t believe I allowed him to think he wasn’t good enough. There’s an actual possibility he might still think that, and that could be why he isn’t speaking to me. My guilt makes me blush even in the empty hallway. How stupid was I?

I dip my chin down, remembering how I didn’t stand up for him or us. My insecurities consumed me. Convinced me I was making the right choice in breaking it off. Truth is, my heart is still in his swanky apartment, and I hope to put it back in my chest tonight.

My lips fold into my mouth when I approach his door. I inhale to a count of four before breathing out and releasing all the pent-up nerves.

This is it.

My stomach flips, and I fuss over my clothes. I pull my shirt down, smooth out the wrinkles, ball the gloves I fiddled with since landing and shove them into my jacket pocket since I won’t be needing them in Texas. Then I lift my hand, rapping my knuckles against his door.

My foot taps nonstop and my gaze fixates on a frill in the carpet until the door swings open to a blonde-haired woman leaning her head forward to look at who is on the other side of it. My body goes completely still, and I turn speechless. I know this is Mason’s apartment. I couldn’t recall the building’s address, but I remember the number on the door. My eyes locked onto it that afternoon when we left, almost like those little digits were taunting me.

She swings the door past her shoulder, short hair bouncing from the air that passes. “Can I help you?”

37

Mason

“I—uh, maybe I have the wrong apartment.”

My head snaps up, turning in the direction of the short hallway that leads to the front door. The paper in my hand floats to the tabletop, and when I hear Trisha ask who the person on the other side is looking for, my heart drops out of my ass. I dash through the open space to make sure my mind isn’t playing tricks on me.

“I’m looking for—”

“She’s looking for me.” I cover my mouth with a palm and steady my gaze on the woman I’m in love with.

Mackenzie’s gaze flicks between Trisha and me, and I know how this looks. To her, it may seem like I was quick to find someone else, but it’s the farthest from the truth. I left a stack of papers on my desk when I left the office this afternoon. Trisha was heading in this direction—it turns out she and her husband live a mile away—and was kind enough to bring them to me.

“You know what,” Mackenzie starts. “It’s okay, really. You two seem busy, and we can chat later.” Trisha nor I need to be rocket scientists to hear the trepidation in Mackenzie’s voice.

“No,” I tell her. “We were finishing up.” I turn to Trisha, who doesn’t give a judgmental or questioning look. I was reluctant to work with her at first because I’ve been under the impression I would be working alone from the start, but she’s a smart and respectable woman. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body, and she knows MSM inside and out. “Thank you for bringing those by. I’ll sort through them and let you know what I come up with.”

“That sounds great. Greg is waiting for me anyhow.” I appreciate how she mentions her husband. I open the door wider when Trisha retreats to the kitchen to grab her bag, silently inviting Mackenzie in.

I can’t help but wonder what caused her to hop on a plane and surprise me, though something tells me it might not be good. Then again, who the hell knows? All I’m aware of is Mackenzie wouldn’t have hitched a plane here unless it was important, and I’m not about to turn her away. I couldn’t if I tried.

The images I conjure of her each night are nothing compared to her being here in person. Fuck, I’ve missed her.

Reluctantly, she inches into my apartment, standing feet from the door when I see Trisha out.

“You didn’t have to send her on her way,” she tells me quietly.

I flip the latch at the top of the door—a habit I’ve taken up since living alone—and turn on my heel. “It’s fine.”

She hums and glances around. “I—uh…”

The air is too stuffy where we stand, so I urge her to come sit. “Let’s go into the kitchen. Are you thirsty? Want water?” Taking the lead, I walk through the short hallway to the large living area open to most of the apartment. I glimpse her sliding her palm over the kitchen counter before opening the fridge, her eyes roaming over the open space.

“Looks like you settled in well.” My apartment is much homier compared to her last visit. When I moved, I tossed out that black leather couch and replaced it with something that reminded me of home.

I twist open a bottle of water, swing the fridge closed, and hand it over. I want to know why she’s here. The last time we truly talked was in this apartment, and I don’t want to hear whatever small talk she’s trying to make. I want to get straight to the point. If she’s here to babble on about the same shit she did before, I don’t know if I’ll be able to listen to it.

I’m doing the same thing she did—protecting my damn heart. What’s left of it, anyway.

“Why are you here, Mackenzie?”

She gulps down half the water and sets it on the kitchen island. I watch her every move, collecting all the details. The bulge in her coat pocket and how she keeps sticking her hand inside of it like she can’t get comfortable. The way her teeth nip into her bottom lip like she’s unsure of what to say. The worry rolls down her back and clings for dear life.

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