Page 68 of Starting Over with You
She calls, and I decline it. She does it again, and then she’s rage-texting.
Sadie
KENNI!
Sadie
Why are you declining my call!
Sadie
Answer before I show up!
Me
I’m not home, or at Dean’s. Fuck. I can’t say this because then it’ll be real.
Sadie
Kenleigh, what the hell?
Me
Fuck.
She calls again, and I answer with my head on the steering wheel of my car while my heart slams into my ribs. I just got a coffee from Noelle’s and she was wanting to chitchat, but I couldn’t. I’m a fucking hot mess express ofconfusing thoughts and what-ifs. This morning with Dean is all I can think about. I can’t make heads or tails of it; all I know is what I feel.
I want Dean Moore.
“Kenni?”
“I’ve always liked him,” I admit after a moment, and I feel like I just jumped out of a plane without a parachute. I love Sadie. I know she’ll talk me through this. Though, I feel like I’m betraying Missy, and that’s the last thing I want to do. But the words just spill from my lips like they’re seeping out of cracks I didn’t know I had. “He was my first kiss, and no matter how many times I kissed someone else, it was his lips I thought about. Oh, and I did cry because he got Missy pregnant. I love Skyye and I’d never wish she weren’t here, but I wish it had been me.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” she says quickly, and I’m thankful she didn’t let silence fill the line.
“I thought he was just picking on me like he did when we were kids, but he admitted to flirting with me, and there was no joke in his voice. He was serious.” I draw in a deep breath through my nose. “He said he is glad I’m divorced, and that he wanted to kiss me that night at the Pine.” She sucks in a breath, and I press my forehead harder into the steering wheel. “But what if I give in to what I’m feeling? And really, what am I feeling? Do I want to jump into another relationship? Or is this about sex?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“He’s your brother. I don’t even know how you made it through Missy getting knocked up by him.”
She laughs. “Girl, you need to talk to Missy about that.”
I furrow my brows, which hurts against the wheel. “What do you mean?”
“Not my story,” she says gently. “All I know is, I want whatever you want.”
“It’s so messy.”
“But sometimes the biggest mess can be cleaned up with the right person,” she murmurs, and I hate the tears that roll down myface. I brush them away quickly, my heart in my throat. “Missy won’t care. I promise.”
“How can you say that? It’s her baby’s daddy.” I cringe. “God, this sounds so Jerry Springer.”
She snorts at that. “It doesn’t. You’re thinking too hard.”
“But what about Skyye? Hell, my boys?”
“They won’t care,” she insists, and I want so badly to believe her. “Kenni, you’ve been through hell. Do something for you.”
