Page 41 of Crazy About Love (All About Love)

“Three weeks,” I admit, and a victorious smile hits Rian’s lips. “But like I said, that doesn’t make her mine.”

“Well, no wonder you can’t move on,” she says, relaxing her stance and turning back toward the beauty of the Broadway marquee. “The wound is so fresh it’s still bleeding.”

“It’s not…it was…but there wasn’t…” Damn it, I’m bumbling around, trying but failing to find a viable explanation for that night. There isn’t one. Rian’s seen through me yet again.

I sigh and shake my head at the ground. “It was just one friend comforting another.”

“You said you didn’t want to be in love anymore,” she says. “Why? What’s so wrong with love?”

“It hurts.” My heart thuds thick in my chest, a reminder of all the times I used the word “love,” even in casual conversation. “Hurts like a bitch,” I say with a laugh. My hand is up on my chest, and I don’t remember putting it there. I suppose I’m subconsciously trying to ease the pain. I quickly jam it back into my pocket.

Her eyes flick over to me. “But doesn’t it also feel…amazing?”

I smirk. “Maybe.”

“I thinkdefinitelyamazing,” she says, leaning into me. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be holding on to it so hard.”

“Were you also a psych major?”

She lets out a small chuckle. “It’s kind of funny. You need help forgetting love, and I need help remembering it exists.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Is that what you were looking for tonight?”

She pushes her lips together in thoughtful repose. “No. I was looking for…a night.”

“Care to elaborate on what kind of night?”

She grins at my obvious hesitation regarding intimacy at this point in the evening. It’s ridiculous, really. I should want a night as well, but in my experience, sex doesn’t make you forget a damn thing. In fact, I think it intensifieseverything.

“A night to be different,” she says. “A night away from life.”

I snort. “Oh, geez. I think I owe you a massive apology, then.”

“Why?”

I wave a hand. “Because tonight was…I mean, a blackout, a flat tire, a nosebleed, and food spills all sound like life.”

“Not mine.”

“Lucky.”

“You know what my life is?” she asks, and I shake my head. “My life is nothing. It’s absolutely nothing. I paint and sleep. All I have is my art and me. So I welcome flat tires, food in my lap, and balls to my face.”

A laugh barrels through my stomach, and she grabs my arms and pulls them around her waist. Her back settles against my chest, and I stand stone-still, listening to her slow breathing, as the lights dance in front of us. We probably look like a couple, though I don’tfeellike we’re one. I wish I could just appreciate the small fact that a woman wantsmeto hold her like this.

I feel a pang in my chest and my cement heart starts to crack, but not enough. It’s a small fissure in an otherwise very strong structure. The last woman I held in my arms like this made the earth spin. She made the entire population of New York disappear, and the only sounds in the air were the notes of her voice, talking about her world, her fears, her hopes. She talked of her past, her future, her family, and her friends, and nothing she said was boring or uninteresting. It hit parts of me that made all the screws come loose in my brain.

Rian’s right. Love isamazing. And I don’t know how to feel it with anyone else, but I sure as hell am gonna try.

“You’re right,” I tell Rian over the bustle of the New York night. She tilts her head up to look at me, and I meet her eyes. “The wound…it’s still bleeding.”

“Well, I already fixed one bleeding body part.” She taps my nose, and it stings a bit from all the bangs it’s been through tonight. “I can try to fix the other one.”

6 MONTHS, 7 DAYS AGO: 8:49P.M.

The clock on my dash reads 8:49, and I wince at the early getaway I just successfully pulled off. Jace—in a completely out-of-character maneuver—set me up on a blind date with one of the extras in the movie he’s shooting. I don’t know what possessed him to think of me when he’d normally just take the girl out himself (she’s more his type anyway), but I went with it since he did me a favor a few weeks ago.

I made no promises to make the date last longer than necessary, however. After an hourlong conversation on her political viewpoints, she dove into how she dresses her cats. When I realized the cat wardrobe was the most interesting subject we’d broached for the evening, I paid the bill and dropped her off without a nightcap. I reserve those for my best friend on occasions such as this.

---