My eyes widen and I’m already shaking my head. “I’m not in love with him.”
“Semantics,” Abby says. “Falling—in like, in love, or whatever you want to call it—is scary. It’s a risk. And it requires opening up. If you don’t open up, no one can come in. You had to do that for me. Remember?”
I smile, thinking back to freshman year of college. “You were like a battering ram. Relentless.”
“Thank you. But maybe you could make it a little … easier.”
“If Gavin isn’t willing to do the work to push past my walls, maybe he’s not worth it,” I say, sounding a bit petulant even to my own ears.
“Point taken. A guy should be willing to cross moats and climb walls and go on quests. But, at the end, the prize is you. I think that terrifies you. I can see why it does. You think I wasn’t scared about dating Zane? I was. Sometimes, I still am. I don’t know if Gavin is the right guy for you. But isn’t it worth the risk to find out?”
Is it, though?
This is the one question I wish I could answer ahead of time. And yet, I get the feeling there is no way to know without taking that first step out into nothing, hoping to find a pair of solid arms ready and willing and strong enough to catch me.
I've found that all the book boyfriends I adore far outshine any real men I date. I am constantly disappointed, but desperately desire true, heart-soaring love. What do I do?
Ain’t that the truth! Book boyfriends can do no wrong. Except for the whole not-living-and-breathing-and-actually-kissing-you thing.
Just know that probably if the author wrote one more chapter, that happy couple would be fighting over toothpaste. That’s reality.
And book boyfriends are born out of reality. The reality that we’d all LIKE to see. Real men have flaws.
But they can also kiss you enough to curl your toes.
Don’t let fake men’s perfection (swoonworthy though they may be) stop you from having a real-life relationship.
Real guys can’t hold up to that standard. Enjoy the BBs for what they are: an escape from reality, not a standard for it.
Ever a Mrs. Darcy Wannabe,
Dr. Love
Chapter Seven
Gavin
I know even before I pull into the gravel lot of the Peter Pan Mini Golf that I’m going to screw this up. Let’s first pretend Zoey wasn’t completely awkward around me today. I get it, at least a little bit. We still work together, and yet have crossed a line I don’t plan to uncross. Still, I can’t say it didn’t make me second guess everything when she couldn’t even meet my eyes one time today.
There’s that. Then also, I’m overeager. Far too excited. And much too preoccupied with the fact that I’m forty-three, about to hang out with twentysomethings.
I’m also about twenty minutes early (see: overeager), so I call Thayden on video. He looks like he’s at a park somewhere, which is odd. Thayden is an indoor kind of guy. Any exercise he does is even limited to inside a gym, never outdoors. I’ll ask about that later. Right now, I have something I never thought I’d ever have: a fashion emergency.
“Is this too much? Is it stupid?”
“Hello to you too,” he says, but I’m already tilting the phone to show my shirt. Thayden reads for a sec (the phone is probably showing it in reverse) and then starts to laugh. “Tell me you have a change of clothes.”
Dang it.
I knew it. And I didn’t trust my gut. I listened to my panic, which was telling me I need to appear youthful. Relevant. Or at least not grandfatherly. So, I stopped in a random trendy boutique on the way here and bought a graphic T-shirt. Nothing says youthful like a good old graphic tee, right?
Especially one that reads, OK BOOMER. It’s funny, right? Because I’m not a boomer. That’s the joke.
“Change,” Thayden says, still sputtering with laughter. “Now. What were you thinking?”
“There was that Saturday Night Live skit where—”
“No.”
“Did you see it though? Adam Driver was Kylo Ren on an Undercover Boss spoof and—”
“Stop.”
I sigh. “So, it’s a no on the shirt?”
“A definite no. It’s like when your parents try to use slang because they want to be hip.”
“It’s really that bad?”
Thayden raises an eyebrow. “Yes. It’s bad. Take it off.” He starts to laugh again.