I’ve seen it more times than I care to admit.”
Darcy grinned. Vince had been too cool for The Princess Bride, but the same did not hold true for Clint. “Clint loved it the first time we watched it.”
“I’m aware.”
“I want a love like Buttercup and Westley.”
“Darcy—” Ryder began, but she cut him off. She’d been around him enough to know he had more than a healthy amount of cynicism, especially when it came to romance and love. Which struck her as odd, considering he’d been married before.
“I mean it. I want someone to love me with that much passion, to be willing to fight to the pain for me. I want to be put up on a pedestal and treated like a princess.”
“Nice to know you have such reasonable, achievable goals.”
She laughed at his sarcasm. “I’m not asking for something I wouldn’t give back in return. When I fall in love, it’ll be with my whole heart. I want a relationship like my Pop Pop and Grandma Sunday had. I know The Princess Bride is just a movie, but I also know for a fact that kind of relationship can exist in real life. Pop Pop had it. And my parents have it. Leo and Yvonne too.”
“I hope you get it,” Ryder said, though his tone implied he didn’t believe she would. “And for the record, I stand by my choice for greatest movie ever made.”
Darcy tilted her head. “Does Clint watch Blade Runner with you?”
Ryder held her gaze, then sighed. “No. He typically leaves the room about fifteen minutes in.”
Darcy lifted one hand in a “there you go” gesture. “And yet, he’ll watch The Princess Bride over and over. I rest my case. Your turn to ask a question.”
Ryder asked her who her favorite singer was, and mercifully, the time began to pass quickly as they passed the bottle of vodka back and forth, covering every topic from politics to religion to cooking shows.
“Okay,” Darcy said, the vodka making her bolder with each passing question. “Who was your first kiss?”
Ryder, who’d rolled up the sleeves on his dress shirt, looked more relaxed than Darcy had ever seen him. Like her, he’d slipped off his shoes, and he leaned back against the elevator wall. He actually seemed…younger. And it occurred to her that, while he was only ten years older than her—thirty-four to her twenty-four—there were times when that age gap felt much vaster. Probably because Ryder had already lived a lifetime—finding success in his career, marrying, raising a son and stepson—while Darcy was still at the beginning of…well…everything.
She’d just gotten her master’s degree, landed her first real job, was still single, and living with her cousins in the apartment above the family’s pub. Twenty-four years of life and she hadn’t gone more than a couple steps toward adulthood. Meanwhile, Ryder gave the appearance of having had enough of adulthood to last him a good long time.
“Third grade,” he said. “Brenda Goodman.”
Darcy shook her head. “No. First real kiss.”
“Ah. Well then. That would be Taylor Shipley. Eighth grade. My first girlfriend.”
“Was it true love?” Darcy teased.
“No. It had less to do with emotions and more to do with the fact that she let me touch her boobs. When that grew old, I tried to break up with her. Several times. Took quite a few attempts before it would stick.”
“Why?”
“Because I was a thirteen-year-old boy and it was easier to say we could keep being boyfriend/girlfriend than listen to her either cry or scream at me.”
“Wow. Not very romantic.”
Ryder, who’d lifted the bottle of vodka for another sip, put it down. “I’m afraid The Princess Bride has given you a fairly skewed view of relationships. The reality of it is, true love doesn’t exist.”
Darcy sucked in a sharp breath, eyes narrowed. “You don’t seriously believe that.”
Ryder capped the Grey Goose without taking a drink and leaned forward. “With every fiber of my being.”
Darcy didn’t know how to respond to that because there was no doubt in her mind he meant what he said.
“What about your first kiss?” Ryder asked.
“I was older. Tenth grade, after a home football game. The boy I liked, Trey Nichols, tugged me away from our group of friends and asked if I wanted to go to Homecoming with him. When I said yes, he gave me a kiss. It was just a quick one, no tongue,” she added. “I’m pretty sure it was his first kiss too.”
“No fireworks, no sword fighting, no proclamation of undying true love?”
Darcy