Page 70 of Not in Love

A pause. “Why?”

“Because I didn’t love her the way she wanted to be loved.”

Rue tilted her head. “What does that mean?”

By now it had been long enough that when he thought about McKenzie, the only feelings left were affection and gratitude. Their last conversation, though . . .

You are a successful adult man, and yet you put more effort into some harebrained vendetta you’re chasing with your codependent friends than into being actually happy. You will choose your stupid revenge plan over me anytime, and we both know it.

You want to be in love with me. You want to wake up in the morning and think of me. You want to want me, but you just don’t.

You can’t fix it, because this is not about what you do—it’s about what you feel. The kind of love I’m looking for, not everyone has the capacity for it, Eli.

McKenzie’s words may no longer be the sharp knife they’d been three years earlier, but the sting remained. “Not enough.” His tongue roamed the inside of his cheek. “She meant that I didn’t love her enough.”

“Was she right?”

A beat, and then he forced himself to nod. That was what hurt the most.

“Are you two still friends?”

“Friendly. She wanted a clean break, but I hear from her more now that she’s found someone else and is . . . happier than she’d ever been with me, for sure.”

“Are you jealous of him?”

“I . . . maybe. A little. McKenzie was—is—fantastic. I couldn’t give her what she needed, and I’m glad she’s getting it from someone else. But I can’t help being . . .” He made a resigned gesture. “Envious might be more accurate.”

Rue stared at the heavy rain, pondering the matter like it was a complex set of assays to be performed. “Couldn’t you? Give her what she needed, that is. Or did you just not want to?”

It was such a loaded, deceptively barbed question, Eli almost wondered if she’d ever spoken with McKenzie. But Rue was guileless. And curious. “I don’t know. I hope it’s not the former.”

She nodded. “I might be like that, too.”

“Like what?”

“Incapable of loving people the way they deserve.”

“Really? What about Florence? Don’t you love her?”

She glanced away. “I thought I did. I know I do, but maybe not enough, if I’m betraying her by being here with you.” She took a long, calming breath, then looked at him again.

“What about romantic love?” Eli’s heart pounded, and he wasn’t sure why. “You think you could manage that?” he asked her.

Asked them.

“Maybe. Or maybe some people are too broken. Maybe . . . maybe things have happened in their lives, in their past, that have damaged them so bad, they’re never going to get happy endings with the loves of their lives.” She pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. “Maybe some people are meant to be tragedies.”

A knife in his fucking stomach, that’s what Rue was. And a mirror he couldn’t bear to look into. “So, is this my chance for a Q and A?” he asked, wanting to change the subject.

“What would you like to ask?”

He considered gently introducing the topic, but Rue was a fan of plain speaking. “Why don’t you want penetrative sex?”

“Because I don’t like it very much.”

“Any reason in particular?”

“No. No traumatic story or medical issues, at least.” She shrugged. “It’s not that I actively dislike it. I just can’t really come like that.”

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