Page 87 of The Write Choice

“I want to.” She twists her mug back and forth on the table, staring at it. She sighs, then shifts her gaze to me, her blue eyes intense. “I need you to believe me when I say I haven’t had a drink since that night at the fundraiser. I’m proud of that because it’s been hard. Harder than I wanted to admit to you. I wanted you to think I had it all together, and I didn’t want to bother you when I knew you were so stressed with your job.”

I take a breath as if to speak, but she shakes her head.

“No, let me finish,” she insists. I fall silent and nod for her to continue. “I never felt like you got the chance to choose me. That, even if you loved us, it was forced on you in a way. I know what you’re going to say about that, but don’t.” She cuts me off before I can even protest. She moves the mug to the side and clasps her hands together in front of her. She doesn’t move her eyes from them as she speaks. “It doesn’t matter what you say, because it’s what I fear. And maybe that fear is irrational, I don’t know. But it’s always been there in the back of my mind.

“And it didn’t help that our so-called friends in New York didn’t want me, either. I was always the odd one out. I didn’t work or come from money. I didn’t drink. But when we moved here, I didn’t feel that way anymore. You and I seemed to be doing really well. Mac and Jenny folded me into their friendship because they genuinely wanted to. Mason and Christine have friends, too.

“It was stressful. Of course it was. It took work to get here, and I wanted to drink sometimes.” She raises her eyes to me, and there’s an earnestness there that takes my breath away. “But I didn’t. I thought about it, I won’t lie about that. But I never acted on it. I didn’t want anyone to know because it felt like I was failing. I was so ashamed. When I talked to Nora, though, she told me that wanting to drink and not doing it was something to be proud of. It made sense. I had those thoughts and didn’t act on them. I was proud then, and I wanted you to be proud of me, too.”

“And, instead, I questioned you. Katie, I’m so sorry.” I grab her hands, and she lets me, the warmth of her palms seeping into mine.

“I was angry, obviously, but I know why you did it. You weren’t accusing me. You hadn’t lost your faith in me. You were worried because you love me. I should have seen that and just answered your question.”

“I should have trusted you,” I insist, still holding her hands.

“Well, yeah. You should have.” She chuckles. The sound fills me up. “But what are you supposed to think when you find a half-empty bottle of whiskey hidden in a box with my name on it?” She smiles sardonically, her eyes gleaming.

“You don’t have to explain it. I believe you.”

“I want to. It’s just kind of embarrassing.” She bounces her knee a few times, then goes still again. “That bottle is just about eight years old. Remember when I took that shot when I found out I was pregnant? That was my coping mechanism for stressful situations, and that’s when I realized I had a problem.”

I nod, practically hanging on to her words. Suddenly, the realization dawns. “That’s the same bottle?”

“The same bottle.” She smiles sheepishly.

I lower my eyebrows and narrow my eyes in confusion. “Why is that embarrassing?”

She laughs self-consciously. “Because it’s weird. Why would I keep that? It makes no sense. I should have gotten rid of all the alcohol and removed the temptation. But there was something about having the temptation there and not acting on it that felt…” she trails off, looking for the word. “Empowering, I guess.”

I rub my thumb over her knuckles, catching on her wedding band with each pass. “That’s not weird. It’s your process. It works for you.”

She nods silently, still not meeting my gaze.

“Is it my turn now?” I ask.

She smirks. “Sure.”

“Okay.” I squeeze her fingers. “I did choose you, Katie. You seem to forget that my family had a lot of money, and we could have paid you whatever you wanted to keep Mason a secret or have an abortion and never bother me with it again.”

“You say that like someone put all of those options on the table for you.” She arches a blonde eyebrow.

I laugh. “Not important right now. The point is, I didn’t want that to happen. I wanted you. I wanted Mason. I wanted Christine, too, but that was a little different.” She meets my gaze and smiles at that. It changes her entire face. The whole room lights up, and for a moment, I almost forget what I’m saying because she’s so stunning. “I chose you then, and I choose you now, and I’d choose the same damn thing even if I had it all to do over again. I love this life we’ve built, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. But I need you to do something for me.”

“What’s that?”

“Have a little faith in me, too. I might make some mistakes, but it never changes the way I feel about you. You’re everything. And you’re mine. I’m never letting you go.”

Her smile falters slightly. “Even if I drank that whiskey?”

“Even then.” I squeeze her fingers again. She flips the palm of her left hand so our fingers interlace on the top of the table. I continue, needing her to hear the rest. “Loving someone isn’t just about loving the easy stuff. It’s about loving the hard stuff, too. I love all of you, Cat.” I untangle my right hand so I can trace her jaw, tilting her chin up so she’s open to me. The rumble I’ve grown to know so well rises in her throat.

A wicked grin grows on my face. “I especially love that noise.”

She laughs a breathy laugh as I lean in and kiss her deeply, my hand trailing to grip the back of her head. Her laugh turns into a soft moan as I sweep my tongue into her open mouth and taste her.

A noise comes from my left. We slowly turn our heads in the direction of the sound. Daniel is standing there at the top of the stairs to the basement.

“Looks like you two made up.” He wears a smug look as he folds his arms and leans against the wall.