Page 37 of Choosing a Forever
If it isn’t smudge proof, I’d wear the smeared color around my mouth as a badge of honor. Let everyone know this exquisite woman kissed me.Me.
Mack shifts from one foot to the other, folding her arms across her chest, then letting them hang at her sides, and I realize I’ve been staring at her mouth for longer than is appropriate.
“You look incredible.” The words tumble out of my mouth like gravel, my voice rough and ragged in a way it’s never been.
Mack’s cheeks turn pink. “Thanks. You look really nice, too.”
I glance down at my matching olive green chinos and light blue button up.
“Thank you.” I hold my arm out for her. “Shall we?”
Her ring-clad fingers hesitantly grip my bicep in a loose hold.
Can she feel my muscles? Does she like them?
I put in a lot of work to get in shape to be a fireman. With no significant other, I’ve spent many nights running with Siren or lifting the few weights I have at home. I’m proud of the muscles I’ve gained to show how hard I work.
I subtly flex them, hoping to get a reaction out of her, but she just stares straight ahead at my little black Subaru Outback.
I open the passenger door for her, and she gets inside, buckling while I round the car and get in the driver’s side, trying not to rush too fast.
I have to actively keep myself from staring at her and appreciating how much I like her in my car. How much I like her next to me. How much I want to reach across the console and hold her hand while we drive.
As I pull out of her driveway and out of her neighborhood, my nerves sizzle and spike again.
I once again remind myself she’s already said yes to the marriage. To me. This is simply a formality. One I want to give her.
“How was your week?” I ask, glancing away from the road to steal another look at her.
“It was good. I spent some time applying for new jobs in my downtime, so hopefully something will come up. Maybe I’ll get a new job, and we won’t have to get married,” she muses.
OOF.
Talk about an axe to the heart.
I don’t like that idea. Not one bit. Does that make me a bad person?
“Are you having regrets saying yes to this?” I need to know. I don’t want to force her into something she doesn’t want to do. That would hurt her. I don’t want to hurt her.
Shoot.Have I… manipulated her into this?
“If you feel like I’ve pressured you atall,I’m so sorry, Mack—”
“No,” she interrupts. “You haven’t made me feel pressured, I just… I don’t like feeling like I’m taking advantage ofyou.”
“I’m sorry. But I promise, I don’t feel that way. I offered. I’m not using the benefits. Someone should get to. Besides, you’re helping me, too, remember? You get to teach me how to be the best ex-Mormon version of myself. I’m ready to enter my apostate era.”
Mack shakes her head, but I see the slightest upturn of her lips. “You won’t even swear, Tal. I don’t want to feel like I’m corrupting you. Again.”
“I want you to corrupt me!” I blurt.Dang it. That sounds dirty.“I mean, Iwantyou to help me learn to break the rules I’ve been taught. I don’t want to follow them blindly anymore, but it’s hard to break them on my own, you know? I’ve gotten so used to them; it’s a hard habit to undo. But we can talk about that later. Tonight, we’re just a regular couple going on a date—” Mack snorts. “What’s funny?”
“Tal, you look like a Hollister model or something, and I look like the poster child for Goths-R-Us. Complete opposites. No one is going to believe we’re on a real date.”
I don’t like her insinuation that I wouldn’t date her. Doesn’t she understand how beautiful she is? “I thinkyou look amazing. So what if you like black? It doesn’t matter. Besides, people will believe what they want. All that matters isweknow it’s a date.”
I glance over and see her looking at me with wide, shocked eyes. “I thought this was more of a formality thing or… something. I didn’t—I didn’t know you considered it an actual date…” Her voice trails off at the end, like she’s embarrassed.
I’m not going to lie, that stings a little. I feel like I’ve been clear about my intentions, but maybe I’ve only been clear in my head.
