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I know what real love looks like. My parents were together for thirty years. Spent every single moment of their lives together and loved every minute of it.
They died right after each other. Mom, to cancer. And then dad, a year later to heartbreak.
The most important lesson dad taught me about love is that it’s a choice. Not a feeling. Not the world moving in slow motion. Not my pants getting tight at a single look across the room.
It’s deciding one day.
And the next day.
And the day after that.
Until twenty years have passed and you’re still choosing her because love is choosing even when it sucks. But if you chose the right one, well, then… even when it sucks it’s worth it.
I believe my dad.
Believe in the gravity of love.
Because of that weight, I can’t imagine having to choose someone—and only one—for half a decade.
Which is why I’m still single at an age when most of my friends have gotten hitched and divorced already. A few are even on their second marriages.
I haven’t found a woman I want to choose yet.
And I sure as hell have never found a woman who made time stop.
Until tonight.
Until the woman in the red pantsuit stood in front of a pool of shattered glass and bent down immediately to clean it up with her bare hands.
Her beauty caught my eye first.
Her kindness kept my attention.
In two seconds flat, I knew—despite her looking like a pampered princess, she wasn’t the type who considered herself better than the help.
Then something strange happened.
My eyes revolted from my body. Swept over her. Fused to her like they’d belonged to her before time began.
When another man joined her, I—strangely—found myself clutching my beer so hard it almost shattered.
When she walked off with her date, I followed.
Made no sense.
Hell, Iwantedto stop.
Business associates kept getting in my way.
To chat.
To talk.
I got rid of them as fast as I could.
By the time I got outside…
Well, the world went slow again.
