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A collective and forceful “Shhh!”
I hold up my hands in apology, then peel the banana. I’m sure I can find better things to do around—but then, something stops me. The voice coming through the speaker—it’s familiar, somehow.
I walk back toward the table, and I find myself wondering who could possibly hold the guys’ attention like this.
“Who’s this woman?” I ask.
“Nobody knows,” Pearson says. “She’s anonymous.”
“But she gives really good advice,” Turner says.
“What kind of advice?” I ask.
“Relationship advice,” Pearson says.
I listen as this Hopeful Romantic responds to the letter she just read.
“We all want to be swept off our feet. It’s why romance novels, rom-coms, all of them, are so popular. Is it unrealistic? Maybe. But that doesn’t necessarily mean we can’t hope for it. We want the romantic hero to walk out of our dreams and straight into our lives. And I for one, don’t think we should apologize for wanting that. We yearn for the guy who shows up with chicken soup to take care of us when we’re sick, like Tom Hanks in You’ve Got Mail. We want our guy to write us love letters and kiss us in the rain or ask us to slow dance in the middle of the street. That’s what I’m holding out for, and I won’t apologize for it.”
“Is she serious?” I scoff.
“Shhhh!”
She goes on with a whole list of things her perfect man will do. Stargazing in the back of a pick-up truck? Playing a song underneath her window? A grand gesture? I’m starting to understand why this woman is still single. Her perfect man doesn’t exist.
I glance over at the others. Turner is actually taking notes.
“Are you guys for real?”
“Listen. I know it sounds crazy. But this stuff works, Larrabee,” Pearson says. “It saved my marriage.”
“Come on,” I prod. “There are more important things in a relationship than making out in the rain.”
“Have you ever made out in the rain?” Jace pointedly asks.
I get defensive. “Well, no, but. . .”
“Don’t knock it until you try it.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and looks at me. “She could probably help you get out of your little funk.”
“I’m not in a funk.”
“Have you dated anyone seriously since Lindsay?”
“Who’s Lindsay?” Pearson asks.
“Nobody.” I shoot Jace a look. “And no, I haven’t. By choice. Women are nothing but trouble.”
“You’re crazy,” Levi says. “I love women!”
There’s a collective “we know” on a groan.
“Oh!” Pearson picks up his phone and starts scrolling around. “You should listen to Episode 115. Lonely in Larkspur.”
Turner says, “Ooh, yeah, that’s a good one.”
“You have them memorized?” What is wrong with these guys?
