Page 43 of Denim & Diamonds

Morgan reentered my room soon after Brock left. I was still massaging my swollen lips with my fingertips.

She plopped down on my bed. “Well, he’s even hotter than I imagined.”

I sighed. “He is.” I joined her on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. I fell into a daydream, replaying those kisses.

“Uh-oh,” she said.

I turned to her. “What?”

“You’re falling for the guy, aren’t you?”

“Am I delusional for allowing this to continue? I mean, this can’t end well…”

“Says who? You make the rules in your life. Who’s to say you can’t have the best of both worlds?”

“Long-distance relationships don’t work.”

“They don’t work if you believe they won’t.” She tilted her head. “Have you not learned anything since we’ve been here about the power of belief?”

“I’m still practical, Morgan. Distance is a bitch. It’s hard enough to make a relationship work, but when distance is involved, it’s nearly impossible. It’s okay in the beginning maybe, but then the logistics wear you down after a while, especially when the couple has moved beyond the honeymoon phase.”

“Have you ever been in a long-distance relationship?” she asked.

“No. But I’ve had friends who were.”

“You’re basing your impression on hearsay. Someone else’s experience will not necessarily be your reality.”

I sighed. “I thought I was supposed to be the older and wiser one here.”

***

The aroma of cooking hit me the moment I entered Brock’s apartment that evening. “Something smells yummy.”

“Making a stew.”

“Stew. That’s so…manlyof you.”

“It’s the one thing I know how to make really well. Hope you’re hungry.”

Was I ever, albeit not for food. But I’d take it.

The ambience in Brock’s place really hit the mark tonight.Cozy. He had a fire going in a small pellet stove. And Oak was nestled on the couch, taking up most of the space. I’d describe the vibe as warm and welcoming, were it not for the taxidermy heads that always put a damper on things. Even now, they were looking at me…

I chose to ignore them and took a deep breath of the spicy scent. “Well, thank you for cooking and for having me here. I could most definitely get used to this.”

He shook his head. “You’d tire of it fast. I imagine your dinners in the City are a bit fancier than stew in a crockpot.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t make them any better. Going out gets old.Thisis novel. I can’t remember the last time a man made me a home-cooked meal.”

“Well, don’t get too used to it, unless you like stew. I don’t have a big repertoire. Beef stew is pretty much it. Maybe a little pasta and red sauce.”

“I like that, too.” I winked. “But sadly, I don’t have enough time left to get used to anything.”

He frowned. “That’s true.”

“Honestly, not once since I’ve been here in Meadowbrook have I missed my life in the City. That’s saying something.”

“But you’re still going back.”

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