Page 92 of Single-Minded
“It sounds like you and West need to have a heart-to-heart,” Emerson said when we calmed down.
“You want me to just blurt out to my contractor that I might love him?” I asked, trying to make light of this scary topic.
“I know what’s going on in your head,” Chloe said. “You’re all about controlling as much as you can in your life. Emotions aren’t always in our control.”
“Especially not the L word,” Emerson added.
“I don’t know how to do love,” I told them. “I don’t know what happy looks like.”
“Hello.” Chloe waved as if to say right here.
Emerson waved too with the biggest smile, which spoke of her blissful, first-year-of-marriage state.
“And Rowan,” Chloe said.
“She and Chance are so cute,” Emerson said. “I can’t wait to see him with a newborn.”
“Your parents screwed you up in your head,” Chloe said matter-of-factly, “but there are healthy relationships all around.”
I thought about that day at the Honeysuckle Festival with all the crazy-in-love Henry siblings and nodded.
“So say I figure out I’m in love with him. How do I tell him? When do I tell him?” I asked, wondering who could draw me a diagram.
“If he says it first, it’s pretty easy,” Willow said.
“And if he doesn’t?” I asked.
Chloe met Emerson’s gaze in her mirror, looked at Willow, then shrugged. “You’re smart,” Chloe said. “You’ll know when it feels right.”
I wasn’t sure what I felt for West was love, but I had a sneaking suspicion it might be.
He made me feel protected, cherished, and cared for. Even though we were different in some ways, I could be myself with him. We just meshed well whether we were installing flooring, entertaining his kids, or getting naked. I liked nearly everything about him. Loved?
Maybe loved.
I sure as hell didn’t like the amorphous phrase when it feels right.
I was a numbers girl at heart. Black-and-white. Definable. Profitable versus in the red. High-quality coffee versus crap.
When it feels right?
I couldn’t begin to wrap my head around that nonspecific concept. And honestly? I wasn’t sure if it would ever feel right to tell West I’d broken the unspoken rules of our secret fling and fallen in love.
Chapter Twenty-Five
West
We dudes had a reputation for falling asleep right after sex. With my quirky Presley though, she was the one who drifted off.
Correction: not my quirky Presley.
I figured it was because the only time she ever slowed down was post orgasm.
We were at her house post orgasm, having broken in her new living room sectional, late Saturday night. Our last Saturday night.
I came down from bliss a little faster than normal, a heaviness in my chest, as Presley lay between me and the back cushion, her breaths coming slowly, evenly. She’d put her kittens to bed in the utility room, which was their headquarters until they got bigger, so it was just me and my heavy thoughts as she dozed.
After nearly seven weeks, her home construction project was basically finished. The fixture order had been mixed up with another local order, so we were able to get the right pieces in the next day. All that was left was whatever punch list Presley came up with over the next couple of weeks.
