me tonight, and it leaves me feeling confused.
“Lace,” he starts as we reach my door.
I smile up at him, but his face is stoic. It makes my own fall as I wait for him to ask what is on his mind.
“The guy you dated when you moved to Chicago, the one who kept you from believing in real-life romance, do you still think about him?”
I’m startled by his question, and it must show because he adds, “I can’t imagine why someone as spectacular as you, who writes about romance so beautifully, has denied it for herself for so long.”
My gut instinct is to ignore his question. Play it off with a witty retort and ask him to come in. But that wouldn’t appease him. Jake is a soulful creature, the kind of man who listens and amends the situation. Problem is, there’s no fixing me or my past.
I inhale as I try to find the right words. There aren’t any, so I just start speaking, “It’s not just Michael. That’s his name, by the way. We moved to Chicago together after college, and I tried to make it as a writer, but I couldn’t sell my work to a publisher. He told me I was foolish for dreaming, that I wasn’t very well rounded at my craft, and I needed to get a job using the degree I’d earned. So, I did. I went to work at a production company as a broadcast assistant. That’s where I met my best friend, Charisse.
“She’s the only good thing that came out of that job because, within a year, Michael left me for another woman, and I was so angry. Not with him, but with myself for letting a man dictate how I should live my life. I finally took the leap of faith and self-published a book that I had given up on two years prior when I couldn’t find an agent to work with me. That book turned into another and then another until I was able to quit my job, and then I started writing the novel that hit the best sellers list. In that book, the hero was greater than any man, greater than Michael, and better than my father who had abandoned my mother when I was a little kid. He was superior to the jerk who had taken my virginity in high school and broken up with me the very next day. Yeah, I don’t have the best track record when it comes to men. It’s not that I don’t believe there are better ones out there. I just don’t believe there are any for me.”
I don’t realize I’m crying until Jake lifts a knuckle and wipes a tear from my cheek. I turn away, embarrassed, but he pulls my face back to his.
“Not only are there good men out there, Lacey Rivers, but there is also a man who wants nothing more than to be the best one for you.”
His words are like candy for my aching heart, yet I deny it, turning my cheek because I’m afraid. Not by what he’s saying. No, I’m absolutely petrified by the way he makes me feel deep down.
I feel like he might be good.
Too good.
My heart just can’t handle that kind of hope.
I close my eyes and smile slightly. “I had a really great time tonight, Jake. Just let me hold on to that. For one more night.” Stepping back, away from his hold on my cheek and toward my door, I bid him good-bye. “Try not to knock too early tomorrow. I have a deadline.”
He grins, but it seems sad. “You know I don’t believe in your office hours.”
I roll my eyes and open the door. “Night, Jake.”
Closing my door behind me, I lean against it and sigh, wondering how I managed to ruin a perfect good-bye. We had a fantastic date, and up until ten minutes ago, I was convinced he was coming back to my place.
Then, I went and shared my past with him.
Way to ruin the mood, Lacey.
I never, ever share myself like that with anyone, and there I was, shoveling my past from the grave and tossing it at his feet, burying him in it. No wonder I don’t go out. There’s a reason I’m only with fictional men. I can delete the words on the page. I can’t delete my mouth.
No. Who am I kidding? I might not share myself that often, but I certainly won’t delete my words. I’m not ashamed