A month of two after we started seeing each other, my Mam called and told me she saw a heart in her cup. It was meant for me. The big change was going to be love. I’d find it early, just like she did. But there was a catch. It would happen fast. And if I denied it, I’d only be denying myself.
“And one more thing,” she’d said before we hung up. “His heart is hidden in his work.”
All signs pointed to Scott Stone. His job was his mistress. He’d told me that on the first date.
Oh. So. Fucking. Great.
I had plans. I had things I wanted to accomplish before getting swept off my feet. I wanted to sing on Broadway. Travel the world without worrying about where the funds were going to come from. I wanted to be queen of a country for a day, dammit! Okay, maybe not that, but still, I had plans. And nowhere in my booklet was love first on the itinerary.
Because if I was being brutally honest with myself, I only had two things going for me: the many jobs that seemed to fall into my lap, and the resilient hope that one day I’d sing on stage.
The rest of my life, though? Shit.
I barely made rent. I barely had any groceries in the cabinets and in the fridge most of the time. And I had no clue what tomorrow would bring—whether “barely” would turn into “couldn’t make” and “nothing in the.”
Scott was at a different time in his life.
He felt his age. I found my first gray hair, probably because of the stress of the job.
He was ready to settle down. I can see myself getting really serious with you. Having a few kids. Do you think our kids will have red hair like yours?
He wasn’t fond of traveling. Flying gives me vertigo, and driving for long periods irritates me.
Whenever we had sex, he always told me what he was going to do before he did it. I’m going in.
He didn’t like to dance. Vertigo again. The spinning.
And he was one of those people who didn’t listen to music in the car. I like to think or talk without noise in the background.
That was why I preferred to drive my own car. I was one of those people who got lost in the scenery with the radio turned up and the windows down. His lack of listening to music in the car, at one point, had made me think he wasn’t a detective at all but maybe a serial killer.
I mean, who doesn’t listen to music in the car? Even on low in the background?
But—there it was again—we had fun for the most part. And what if my inability to commit to him would be the biggest mistake of my life? I knew we were inching closer and closer to that point. He wanted to take me to Louisiana with him, where most of his family lived, after the New Year. Then there were the constant hints about my favorite shape—emerald, round, or oval?
But… I stopped myself. I needed to stop having so many “but” moments and concentrate on the “what ifs.”
What if my forever sat directly in front of me, eating the rest of his steak, and I let him go because he gave me destinations when he touched my body?
I smiled, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous I was being. Maybe letting this play out, without all the thought, would lift some of the burden from my shoulders. Maybe I was holding on too tight because my Mam had put it in my head that it was now or never—no time to decide. Like I didn’t have a choice in the matter.
Of course I did. It was my heart. I’d give it or not.
Scott set his fork down, meeting my eyes. “You’re terrified, too.”
I was about to take a drink. At that, I set it down. “Terrified?”
“Of this.” He motioned between us. “But I don’t know why they call it falling. Falling makes it sound uncontrolled, an inevitable smash into the ground after you’ve soared. I’ve already fallen, and it feels damn good to lose my heart, Kee.”
A moment passed between us, a beat, and I smiled. Then he did. Before I knew it, the words tumbled out of my mouth. “I’m ready for this.”
That had to be it—the fear. It had stopped me from feeling this—whatever this was between us.