I shook my head. “Meeting people is harder now. And how am I supposed to trust that the next person won’t waste my time too?”
“That’s not a good way to look at it.”
“And what is?”
“Think about all the possibilities. Every guy you meet could be a potential love interest. Doesn’t that excite you?”
“Not really.”
“Why not?”
I was too embarrassed to admit anything to him.
“Oh, come on. It’s my next question. Why doesn’t dating excite you?”
“Because I wanted to get married, okay?” I mumbled, barely at an audible level.
Giles raised his eyebrows. “Okay…so?”
“So, I thought I was this close”—I held up my index finger and thumb—“to getting married. I know it’s not cool to admit this, but I’vealwaysdreamed about getting married. The fairytale wedding, starting a family, the fact that you’ve found your person forever. The one that picked you over everyone else.”
My voice cracked on the last word, and my throat was thick with emotion. Shit. I was not about to cry in front of Giles.
To my surprise, Giles just stared at me instead of making an excuse to leave.
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he said.
“How can I not? I spent eight years with the wrong guy and now I have to start over.”
“The right guy won’t keep you on the back burner like that. Trust me. He was never the one for you. When you meet your guy, he’ll be dying to claim you forever.”
I blinked a few times and finally smiled.
“Can we change to a lighter topic?” he asked.
Laughing, I thought for a minute. “Have you ever broken a bone?”
“My arm. Twice.” He thought for a second. “How did you get that gash on your forehead?”
I instinctively touched the cut. “I told you,” I replied sheepishly.
“Something about a golf cart?”
“I crashed a golf cart,” I mumbled.
“What was that?”
“I crashed a golf cart,” I huffed, this time louder.
“That’s what I thought you said.” He was full-on laughing now, and despite my embarrassment, I couldn’t help but enjoy the musical tone of his laughter. “I need to hear this story.”
I sighed. “It happened at a party my parents were throwing. Everyone drives around in golf carts where they live, it’s a thing, trust me. Anyway, I got too drunk. Something upset me, and I took off in one of them. I swerved and flipped the cart. End of story.”
I intentionally left the part about what had upset me out of the story, but I don’t think Giles noticed. He was bent over, laughing at my embarrassment.
“It’s not that funny, you know. I could have hurt someone. It was stupid of me to drink and drive.”
“Of course, you’re right,” he replied, still laughing. “I’m just picturing you tearing across town in a golf cart.”
