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Notparticularly.
It was more that my life had been pretty okay without it. See, I was the kind of person who could do a huge lot for someone she vibed with.
It'd happened that time with Hunter, and God knows it'd almost landed me in jail. And we weren't even a thing. He was just my best friend.
The same thing with the few on-again, off-again relationships I'd had, the last of which ended the evening I turned twenty-five. My ex called me up and said he'd had enough of how "big" everything about me was.
I coulda taken that literally, but he meant more than my curves. He meant my personality, my urge to go ahead of myself and do more shit than he ever deserved, and my need to keep justifying every single bit of assfuckery he did with me.
The few friends I had—including Celine—told me it was too much, and he didn't deserve shit. But you hardly stop to think that when you're loving someone, do you?
That was what bothered me the most about this darned alchemical emotion. It refused to follow any rules or conform to any lists.
My folks could keep coming and telling me to set up boundaries—but didn't that contradict the very nature of love?
To be honest, the only living soul I'd loved that way, except my mama, had been our dog, Lady.
And when she grew old and love taught us the greatest lesson of all, I decided I couldn't do it any longer.
It scared and worried and tired and aged me.
And the butterflies weren't worth all that anxiety. Hell, why did I need to feel them flutters in my stomach when I could just sit back with a good book, a cuppa, and relax?
I wanted that life, not one where I'd constantly worry about another man doing messy shit behind my back.
So, why did I feel so darn different right now?
What sorcery was my new neighbor doing to me?
Reed.I repeated the name in my mind. It was different. The nice kind of different. Everything about him made me think he wasn't from these parts—barring the occasional Southern drawl that slipped into how he spoke from time to time or the slow smile on his lips.
The thought of those muscles rippling under the crisp white of his shirt and that lopsided grin—well, fuck my life.
Why did this have to happen just when I was getting comfortable with the idea of spinsterhood? I cut myself a mini-slice of the bigger pie slice he'd brought over.
Not too bad, but it tasted like he'd learned to make this from an influencer online. I chuckled, the beginnings of an idea forming in my head.
About an hour later, I had a whole dark chocolate pie ready to use as a plausible excuse to see him again.
I fixed my hair and put some eyeliner on and then went to knock on his door. It was already past sunset.
I had no plans for the evening except maybe coming back home and doing an epicF.R.I.E.N.D.S.rerun.
Maybe I could get some dating ideas from Phoebe. Or just watch Ross make a fool of himself. Free therapy either way.
Reed opened the door, his face withdrawn. It changed the second he saw me. I blushed under the intensity of his gaze. How did he do that?
How could he make me feel like I was wearing nothing but a very see-through babydoll and my sexiest knickers?
I brandished the pie in front of me like a weapon. "I thought you could do with some chocolate."
He grinned. His already sharp jawline was accentuated immediately, and the fire in his eyes was reduced to a low simmer.Be still, my fuckin’ heart.
"Come on in, and let's have some of it."
I entered the apartment. It was as pretty as any other home here—pastel walls, a bright, airy balcony, and ornate furnishings everywhere.
Reed led me into the kitchen and put the pie down. "So, is this something you do? Makin' pie for all your neighbors?" He chuckled, his tone warm like melting butter.
