Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“So why have you been chasing it?”
I usually have an immediate answer, but right now, it’s like that answer no longer makes sense.
“People have done worse for love.”
I’m not sure I like what he’s implying, even if it does strike a chord.
“You know, Van Gogh chopped off his ear.”
“Then gave it to a prostitute,” I enunciate, leaving him under no illusion about what I think of his advice.
“Maybe she showed him a real good time.” His eyebrows waggle.
Meanwhile, mine appear to be perspiring. I slick my hands over my face. “He was probably clinically depressed. Or suffering a mental break.”
“People have murdered for love, faked their deaths, tattooed lovers’ names on their skin. And you know why?”
“Because they’re idiots.”
“Because love is worth that risk. It makes a person feel euphoric, like they could take on the world. I hear it’s like being off your face on coke.”
“Well, that settles it.” I throw up my hands. “I’m definitely having a heart attack because I feel anything but euphoric.”
Fin frowns. “I’m not finished. When we fall in love—”
“People don’t fall in love,” I grate out. “Oops! Deary me, I nearly tripped and fell face fucking first into a love puddle?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t do that,” he says with a small grin.
“What?” I pull at my cuffs. Yank off my cuff links. Tug my shirtsleeves up my arms. I feel like I’m frying!
“Eat pussy. Only assholes don’t reciprocate.”
“Why do I even bother?” I mutter, pulling at my tie next.
“I read a study a while back,” he continues, completely ignoring my distress. “It said our prefrontal cortex, our brain’s control center, drops into low gear when we’re in love, and the amygdala, our brain’s threat-response system, shuts down.”
“So we fall in love because we turn into driveling idiots? I’m not sure how that helps.”
“Maybe that’s how you fall. All those warning systems turn off. You behave differently. Unlike yourself.”
“I’m not sure that was a scholarly peer-reviewed article. Sounds more like a Pulse Tok.”
“You think it’s bull?”
“What I’m questioning is if you can read at all.”
“Are your palms sweaty?”
I look down and fold my fingers inward. “A little. Could Andrew have turned off the air-conditioning?”
“Does your heart feel like it’s beating fast? Are you lightheaded?”
Yes and yes. “Could it be a virus?”
“It’s more like your fight-or-flight responses. You know why. You’re panicking because you’re in l-o-v-e,” he says, spelling out the word gleefully. Bastard.
“No,” I bark, using the tone reserved for Bo. “Don’t be an idiot.” Not that it works on him either.
“You’ve got all the classic symptoms. And I’m not just talking about how you’re feeling.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The ring from Garrard.”
“It’s a fucking monstrosity.” A manipulation. No need to mention how, for a split second, I saw an alternate life spilling out before me.
“The dog you’ve got living with you. Eve’s dog. I bet you’ve never had a pet, never wanted one. Not even a goldfish growing up.”
“So?” I frown.
“Tell me that’s not bending for love.”
More like bending for Eve’s manipulation.
“Punching Atherton out. Worrying about Eve. The donation to that dog sanctuary. Ha! You’re not as sneaky as you think!”
“Not sneaky at all, considering it went through accounts. It was a tax write-off.”
“You’re sure it wasn’t for love? To impress your love.”
“Idiot. I am clearly coming down with something. I need a doctor, not this pseudotherapist shit!”
“What you have, there’s no remedy for. Fight it, or give in—makes no difference. The bottom line is, there’s no escaping love.”
Inhaling a deep breath, I force myself to sit with his words, to stop denying them but rather feel what they do to me.
Fight or capitulate.
“Just be with me.” It’s what I asked her that night in the folly, my heart beating so hard that it hurt. A lot like now. “Be with me because you want me.”
I couldn’t look up at her, couldn’t take a denial. Instead, I turned my face and pressed my lips to her palm.
“I’m not asking you to promise me anything.”
“Be with me because you want to be.”
My heart spoke the words that my head was too fearful to give.
Because I love you.
I sit straight in my seat. “Well, fuck!”
Chapter 36
EVIE
As the summer days begin to shorten and the evenings cool, my connection to Oliver—our tentative relationship—takes a turn into ridiculously cute. We walk Bo together in the evenings, often stopping for an ice cream as we stroll through one of London’s royal parks. On weekends we drink coffee by the river, and after dark, you can find us drinking cocktails at exclusive rooftop bars.
We kiss on street corners, canoodle under lampposts, and sneak smooches wherever we can, not caring who might be watching. It’s like my life has become someone else’s Instagram feed with a filter that might well be called new beginnings. It’s not a highly curated feed—there are no fakes. I’m not a woman standing in front of a man asking him to take a dozen shots just to get one perfect one. Each moment has its own kind of perfection, even the ones where steam of frustration seems to shoot from Oliver’s head. Moment after moment, everything between us just seems so natural.