The Lucky in Love Collection - Lauren Blakely Page 0,65
to live my life? But which version of it?
I shake my head, trying to understand why I feel anything about these two people I hardly know.
Especially jealousy.
I’m a little jealous they’re dating.
That they’ve moved on. That they’re enjoying the next thing in their lives, having ice cream for lunch on a Saturday.
I go for a walk through the town square, calling Finley and telling her about the blind date I just witnessed, since she loves to hear romance tales that might inspire a TV episode.
“Ice cream dates have traditionally been known to lead to happily ever afters,” she remarks in her usual wry and chipper tone.
I try to laugh, but it sounds as empty as I feel. “I would like an ice cream date,” I say, a little sad. A lot sad.
“So go get one.”
But really what I want is the happily part. And the ever. And the after.
“That’s the thing. I’m not sure how to do that.”
She hums, like she’s thinking. “But maybe you do actually know.”
Do I though?
I say goodbye, then wander along the side streets, reflecting, thinking, till I wind up on a block where Perri’s been running traffic duty. I find her talking to a well-built guy with a left arm covered in ink. He’s straddling a motorcycle, his helmet in his hand.
She stares sharply at him. “I’m going to let you off with a warning this time. But do us all a favor and obey the law. Can you do that?”
He winks at her. “Anything for you.”
She points at the pavement. “Hit the road, mister. Before I decide to stop being the nice cop and write you a ticket instead.”
“Maybe I’ll see you around, nice cop.”
“Maybe you’ll be better off if you don’t.”
“A man can dream.” He takes off, the bike rumbling in his wake.
I close the distance to her. “Who’s that?”
“Someone who’s too hot for his own good.”
“Or for your good?”
“Ha. I’m immune to hot, inked men on bikes.”
“Right.” We both know there’s no vaccine for her on that count.
“What’s his name?”
“Derek McBride.”
“Hot name.”
“Hot name for a hot guy, but nothing will come of it.” She tilts her head, looks me over. “You okay?”
I heave a sigh. “I’ve been better.”
She rubs my shoulder briefly. “What’s wrong?”
I draw a breath, and my heart shakes. My voice wobbles. If I speak, I might cry. But I do it anyway, blurting out, “I’m in love with Gabe.”
She smiles sympathetically. “Oh, honey, I know.” She wraps me in a hug, petting my hair. “What are we going to do about it?”
I sniffle. “I don’t know. He doesn’t feel the same way.”
She jerks back, staring at me. “Are you sure? You told us what happened after you had sex, but do you really think he’s not in love with you too?”
I shrug, as a tear slinks down my cheek.
“Arden, you’re a smart girl, and I’d encourage you to review the signs.”
“Which ones?” I choke out. “The one where he said let’s do this again?”
“No. The last year of your life.”
The last year.
I let it flash before me, from the day on the trail, to when I brought treats to the firehouse a week later, to our first game of Words with Friends. I move on to other memories, from how he makes sure we spend time together, to his asking me to meet his pops, to the way he touched me in the elevator the other day. He even invited me to dinner with his parents. My God, he wants me to spend time with his family.
Most of all, I linger on the way he looked at me when I opened the door in burgundy lace.
Like he wanted me desperately.
But it was more than physical, wasn’t it?
I recall the fire in his eyes, how there was so much more than lust. He gazed at me like he wanted . . .
Do I dare to let myself believe this?
But it feels completely true.
He looked at me like he wanted all of me.
Like he wanted me the same way I want him.
I want him in all the ways.
And maybe, just maybe, he didn’t say it. After all, I didn’t speak my truth. I didn’t bare my soul for him and tell him he’s become my everything. Hell, I said, What if it doesn't work out? I didn’t even answer him. Maybe neither one of us said all that needed to be said.
Because our friendship isn’t worth risking for a few more fucks.
It is worth risking for something bigger. For something that