Page 102 of How Jenna Became My Dilemma

“You think I don’t know that?”

“If you know that, then I’ll ask my question again. What do you want with her? Where do you see your relationship in five years?”

Jenna said marriage and kids are part of her five-year plan—things that have never been on any plan of mine, let alone a five-year one.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not an answer. You’re the only person who can know.”

“I know what I want, but it doesn’t exist.”

“Okay, let’s start there. Tell me what you want.”

“I want Jenna in real life, but I also don’t want to commit to anything. I want us to be together and for her to be okay with the fact that I’m not promising marriage or forever. I want all of that to be enough for her.”

Dallas picks up his napkin and throws it at me, disgusted.

“Did you really just throw a napkin at me?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?” I crumple it up and throw it back.

“Because your answer sucks.”

“It doesn’t suck. It was honest. You told me to start with what I wanted that doesn’t exist, so I did.”

“Not once did you ever mention what Jenna wants.”

“That’s because you asked what I wanted. You should’ve phrased the question differently if you wanted a different answer. You should’ve said, ‘What does Jenna want?’”

“Do you even know what Jenna wants?”

“I have a pretty good idea, and what she wants doesn’t align with what I want.”

“If you really love someone, then what you want becomes irrelevant. Their wants become your wants. Meeting their needs becomes your life goal. In return, they’ll do the same for you. They’ll bend over backward to make sure you’re happy. That’s what true and selfless love is—that’s the ultimate goal. Labels like marriage and happily ever after don’t mean anything. It’s just an avenue, a way to create a lasting relationship where selflessness can grow.”

“So maybe I don’t actually love Jenna.” There’s a little bit of relief, like this new realization will somehow ease the ache I’ve been carrying around ever since she left me on the curb at the nightclub. “You said yourself that I was only thinking about what I wanted. Jenna wants to get married and have children, and I think I’d do that for her. I’d throw all my hesitations and pessimistic beliefs out the window just to be with her. But I’m worried that, at the last second, after I’ve promised her the fairy tale, I’d chicken out and leave. And I don’t want to do that to her. I don’t want to lead her on and break her heart when we both realize I’m not the man she deserves. I don’t want to do that because—”

“Because you love her.” A goofy grin spreads across his mouth.

“No.” I shake my head. “I was just saying why I thought I didn’t love her.”

“Cody, if you’re willing to walk away from her just so she has a chance at real happiness, then you love her. Love requires sacrifice, putting your partner above everything else. You’re willing to do that for Jenna.”

“I am?”

“You’re willing to walk away from her even though you don’t want to, right?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Then you passed the test. You love her.”

“Okay, but love is not enough.”

“But the willingness to sacrifice is. That’s what I’m trying to explain to you.”

This all feels very complicated.

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