Page 7 of Choosing a Forever
“Right, right. Well, good thing I have a free night ahead to do some recon. FBI agent Lizzie Mikkelson at your service.” She gives me a little salute.
“God, please don’t,” I groan. “I don’t want to see him again. He’s probably married to some pocket-sized Molly Mormon who has a penchant for baking bread and canning in her spare time. They probably go to church on Sundays and have regular family home evenings. Hell, they probably have a gaggle of perfect blue-eyed, blonde kids now.”
Lizzie pulls up in front of Great and Spacious. A ridiculous name for a bar, but it’s a reference to Mormon beliefs. Lehi, a “prophet” from The Book of Mormon,had a dream where the “righteous” people held on to an iron rod—symbolism for the gospel of Christ—and there were people in a great and spacious building trying to “lure” them away from the path of righteousness.
The owners are ex-Mormons, and they thought it would be funny. I can’t say I disagree.
“Well, I think everything happens for a reason, and maybe this is the universe trying to give you two a second chance.” Lizzie waggles her eyebrows at me.
It’s my turn to snort. “Yeah, right. That’ll happen when pigs fly, and the U.S. gets universal healthcare. Thanks for the ride. Can you come pick me up at eleven?”
“Sure thing, bestie. Love you!”
“Love you, too.”
I don’t know what I believe about the universe or fate, but Idoknow Talmage Monson and I were never meant to be, and running into him was just a weird, cruel coincidence.
He’s probably forgotten all about it by now, just like I need to.
Chapter 3
Talmage
14 years old…
Ishould be focusing on doing my homework, but I’m waiting for the little green dot to appear next to Mack’s name so I can talk to her.
I’ve never hated the fact that I don’t have my own cell phone until now.
I feel like I barely get to see her outside of school because we’re both busy. I don’t think I’ve ever missed someone the way I miss her when she’s not around.
Every day after school, I walk her to the train tracks halfway between our houses. It’s a longer path to my house, but I don’t mind. I haven’t gotten the nerve to touch her again, even though I really want to.
Sometimes, I can still feel the sparks from the time our pinkies touched.
I’ve never held hands with anyone before, so I’m nervous. How do I know when it’s the right time to do it? What if she rejects me?
We’re having a movie night at our friend Shaylee’s house this weekend, and I hope Mack will sit next to me. Hope I can work up the nerve to finally hold her hand.
Part of me feels like we’re breaking rules. Like we’re doing something bad, since we’re taught not to date until we’re sixteen andneverexclusively.
But we’re not dating. We just have a mutual crush.
At least, I think we do.
Ihave a crush onher.
Ithinkshe likes me back.
A huge smile breaks out on my face when I see the green dot next to her name and three dots typing in the chat.
It’s been a week since I saw Mack at the car accident, and she’s been on my mind every moment since.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her eyes, and the way they pierced through me. How sad they looked—more than just “I was in a car accident” sad. More than “this is a bad day” sad. A deep, to-the-bone sadness. A sadness I have an overwhelming urge to make better.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the dip of her cupid’s bow and the lovely pink shade of her lips.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the look on her face when she recognized me—something a lot like hurt and shock. Wariness was painted all over her gorgeous face.
