Page 52 of Wedding Bet

All of a sudden I felt too warm under my jacket, and my heart started pounding. He paused for a moment, letting my words hang in the air. Part of me wished I could push them back inside, but what was done was done.

“Different?” he just echoed, processing what I’d said.

Thoughts swirled around in my head, ones I didn’t say but desperately wanted to:

You don’t care about spending money.

But you also don’t care about how shitty it feels when you drop my hand, acting like dating me would be the worst thing a person could do.

He looked up at the sky, then back down at me. “You want to know something?”

I breathed deep. “Of course I do.”

“If we met back in California, I’d still have liked you just as much, you know.”

I snorted. “No way.”

He was making my head swim. Five minutes ago, I was questioning whether or not he’d even liked me at all.

“Yesway,” he told me, his expression growing serious.

“Yeah right,” I said. “If we met in California, everything would be wildly different.”

“Why?”

“Well, for one, you’d probably be one of those guys that comes into my restaurant, gets really drunk on mimosas, and tries to offer me a drink on the job in hopes of a hookup.”

I said it half jokingly, but in reality, I knew Landry was a flirt. It was totally possible that it would play out exactly in that way.

“People don’t really do that, do they?” he balked.

“You’d be surprised what day drinking can do to people,” I said. “And then the moment I found out you don’t believe in love and relationships, I’d write you off as being an asshole.”

“Jamie,” he chided me. “I told you this. I believe inlove, I’m just not looking for it anymore.”

Another one-two punch to my heart. I should have been used to it by now, knowing how convinced Landry was that he didn’t want anything serious.

But kissing him on the street, and the way he’d held me, and the way we’d walked around holding hands? How could it mean nothing to him, and so much to me?

I waved a hand through the air. “Still. The fact is that we’d never be friends.”

“Why not?” he pressed.

I let out a frustrated sigh “Because I don’t make a habit out of being friends with people who can’t truly care about me, anyway.”

I felt the air between us change the moment I said it.

Like I’d just punchedhimin the stomach, this time.

Again, I found myself wishing I could take the words back and stuff them right through my mouth, erasing the last few minutes. Hell. Maybe I’d rather have erased the entire day altogether.

“I see,” he said, his eyes going downcast.

“Landry, I didn’t mean it likethat,” I said. “That sounded really bad. I know you can care about other people.”

“No, I get it,” he said with a little bit of a bite in his tone. “I feel like I’m an asshole. I’m afraid of love and commitment.”

I paused for a moment, chewing on what he’d said.

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