Page 89 of How Jenna Became My Dilemma

We almost kissed.

I wanted to kiss her, but I couldn’t get past the dilemma in my mind. I can’t give Jenna what she needs. Lasting relationships don’t last when they’re built around me. I’m the common denominator. I leave someone before they have the chance to leave me. What if I get scared and leave, breaking Jenna’s heart like all the other men in her life? That’s worst-case scenario. But even if I don’t leave her, I can’t get past the fear that Jenna will eventually realize I’m not good enough and walk away from me.

So I didn’t kiss her when I had the chance.

Plus, there were so many nosy photographers with their long-range zoom lenses that it didn’t seem like the right time to really kiss her the way I wanted.

And then the moment passed.

But I hate the emotional distance between us right now, so I try. “I really like your mom,” I say, breaking out my pickaxe once again.

Her eyes open. “Yeah, she’s really sweet. I didn’t even know you’d talked to her.”

“I spoke with both your parents before the wedding.”

“Oh.” She thinks about it for a second, mouth pushing downward. “You spoke with my dad too?”

“I didn’t like your dad, so I thought I’d leave him out of this conversation.”

Her brows rise in interest. “What didn’t you like about my dad?”

“For starters, he called out me and my intentions toward you.”

“I’m his baby girl.” She shrugs. “Plus, he doesn’t know about the fake relationship.”

“I know. That’s not the part I didn’t like.”

“Then what didn’t you like?”

I scratch my forehead, hating that this is the conversation I struck up with her. Why didn’t I break the ice with how beautiful she looked tonight, how much fun it was to dance with her, or basically anything else that doesn’t have me throwing her father under the bus?

My hand drops, and I lean forward. “Have you ever noticed a similarity between the men you date and your dad?”

“No, not really.”

“I’m noticing some patterns.”

“Like what?”

Don’t say it, Cody. Do not say it!

“Your dad is a chauvinistic jerk that treats your mother like she’s a second-class citizen or some kind of trophy whose only value is how good she makes him look, and everyone just lets him get away with it instead of calling him out on his BS.”

Shoot, I said it.

Jenna’s lips press together in a slash as she takes in my words. “So you’re saying I only date men that are chauvinistic jerks that treat me like I’m a second-class citizen or use me as the trophy on their arm?”

“Yes.” My chest tightens, waiting for Jenna’s wrath to fully unleash.

Instead, she nods and glances out the dark window to the tarmac.

“That’s it?” I finally ask, watching her closely. “You don’t have a comment or a complaint of my assessment?”

Her tired eyes shift to me.

“What do you want me to say, Cody? That I have terrible taste in men? That I always fall for the guy that never loves me back? That I’m going to end up unhappy and underappreciated like my mom?” She lifts her shoulders in the most defeated way. “You’re right. I do all of that. And thanks to your assessment, I can pinpoint my bad choices in men back to my father. That information is helpful for the future, I guess. But it doesn’t help me right now.”

I’m a jerk.

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