Page 7 of I Choose You

Since before I met Nelly, but I don’t tell her that. What’s the big deal? So what if I’m not into going out or dating. I’m careful about who I let into my inner circle for a reason. After having a front-row seat to my parent’s awful divorce and my father walking away from the family he created with my mother, there’s no chance in hell I would want to give a guy the wrong idea. I have no plans of having something steady or casual with anyone, not after experiencing the eye of their storm and absorbing the dreadful aftershock from it.

She tsks. “Too busy focusing on the bad to get on with your life.”

My brows scrunch together in annoyance. “What are you talking about?”

I know she doesn’t mean it maliciously. Her honesty is one of the things I truly appreciate about her personality. Keeping it real one hundred percent of the time is normally refreshing, but I don’t miss the impact of her words.

“Just because your parents didn’t make it doesn’t mean the same thing will happen to you,” she says as she rests her hand on my shoulder. “Your mother didn’t allow the heartbreak of their divorce to keep her from being happy. Instead of avoiding everything, maybe you embrace whatever comes your way.”

I blow out a breath. “Do we really have to do this right now?”

The last thing I want to talk about is the shit storm my father put my mom and me through. His carelessness cost us more than I ever thought possible. And while she might be happy, she didn’t break away from the separation unscathed.

She scoffs at my question, almost like she’s tired of talking in circles. “All I’m saying is that you should be more open and a little more carefree. You’re smart enough not to surround yourself with the kind of man your mother chose to marry. Like, protect your heart, that’s fine, but you can also have fun while doing it. There are good men out there, but you’ll never find one unless you go looking.”

I hear what she’s saying, but it doesn’t change anything. Why would it? She didn’t experience the heaviness of the heartbreak that lasted through the first year after their split. She wasn’t exposed to the repercussions of a soured marriage with a side of adultery. Not just that, but she forgets that my mother and I suffered two different losses. She lost her partner. I lost my father.

Letting go has nothing to do with my mom and everything to do with him.

She gives me a look, then says, “Come out with me this weekend.”

Her invitation makes me do a double take as I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. Then I set my gaze on Owen and Nancy. They reach the end of the aisle and eyeball three dogs at the far end of the room; on the right side is Lucky, a five-year-old Pomeranian that’s been difficult to place because she’s obnoxious. Honestly, she’d be a good fit for Nancy. The perfect balance.

“I have plans,” I tell her, the lie singeing my tongue like acid.

She challenges me by cocking a brow. “So? Cancel them.”

The thought of going out does this funny thing to my stomach. I inhale a sharp breath when I think about the chance of meeting someone who I might have to cut ties with after spending time together.

When I don’t reply, she carries on. “We don’t even have to go anywhere you’re not comfortable with. I met two guys at my cousin’s wedding a few weeks ago. Got their numbers. I told them I would call.” She shimmies her shoulders, and a wide grin appears on her face. “We can do a double date at a sit-down place. It’ll be nice. Nothing wild.”

I want to tell her that the place doesn’t exactly matter. It’s the possible connection that makes my skin squirm. “I don’t know, Nelly. You know how I feel about all this.” I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and side-eye her. “Besides, I’m not so sure you have a calm side.”

“I promise I’ll behave. All I’m asking is that you give it a chance. It’ll be good for you!” A hopeful expression settles on her face, along with a look of pity. “You can’t meet a nice guy in your house, Mackenzie. You have to get your sexy ass out there and mingle until you tingle.” Her smile turns into a sly smirk, and she winks. “If you know what I mean.”

As nice as it would be to have a deeper connection with someone, it’s nicer knowing that I don’t have to worry about making someone happy, catering to their needs and making sure they’re getting each one met. Nor do I have to worry about what they’ll go through when the inevitable happens—the nasty, emotion-filled break-up. My tone is firm, and probably comes off a little too harsh, “I don’t want to meet a guy, period.”

“Under every hard exterior is a woman, or guy, who really does want a partner. Even if it’s only for a night. At what point are you going to recognize that? Meet a man and let him wine and dine you. Don’t stand there and act like you don’t deserve it.”

It’s impossible for her to understand my perspective on all of this. To realize that I’m doing this out of self-preservation. I never want to feel lost, empty, and unworthy again. I’ll risk turning celibate if it means I can avoid that.

Hell, I will pleasure myself until the end of time if it comes down to it. Then I wouldn’t have to rely on another person.

Her hip bumps into mine and pulls me from my head. “So, tell Mason and Luke you’re having a girl’s night and come out with me.”

I nibble at my bottom lip. Though we’re good friends, she and I deal with men and life differently. Her idea of commitment is seeing the same man twice for a one-nighter, then never speaking to him again. I, on the other hand, don’t even want that much. I can’t stand to think of the drama that could ensue if I allowed myself to let go and indulge. I’m also not the kind of person who feels okay with hooking up with someone, only to walk away the next morning. It’s a complete mind-fuck.

“I appreciate that you want to help,” I tell her, shifting on my feet. “But I’m going to pass.”

Understanding lingers, and she exhales breathily. “Can’t say I didn’t try. One day, you’ll change your mind. You’ll see. You’ll be begging me to get you out of that house and away from the Sacks brothers.”

“Maybe,” I murmur. Though probably not likely.

Her gaze shifts, and her voice lowers, turning sympathetic, so Owen and Nancy can’t hear. “I care about you, Kenzie. You are wasting the best years of your life. I know you love how things are now, how easy they are, and I know you care about Mason and Luke, but life is flying by. Promise me you won’t miss out on the ride.”

Every part of me feels the weight of her words, and I almost cave. Not to appease her, but because deep down, I know I can’t live like this forever. I can’t continue to push away relationships and connections because of what I didn’t receive as a child. However, the need to protect myself is always stronger and wins.

She takes a step back, and before she turns to leave the canine room, she adds, “Oh, by the way, Rosco took a shit again.”

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