Page 5 of Truly, Madly, Deeply

His hand dwarfed hers, his long, thick-knuckled fingers folding around her palm as soon as she reached out, accepting the handshake. Chipped remnants of purple polish adorned three of his nails, and the oddest assortment of rings decorated his fingers.

Her breath hitched, brain buzzing, head full of static.

“I’m nice to meet.” Fuck. “I mean, likewise. Truly. Is my name. And it is also nice to meet you.”

Colin laughed. Not a mean laugh, but one that sounded like he genuinely found her funny. “My sister’s done nothing but talk my ear off about you agreeing to record this episode. She’s a huge fan.”

“Yeah, yeah, I already fangirled in an appropriate manner. Now, I’m sure Truly has important things to do and we shouldn’t keep her any longer than necessary. Why doesn’t everyone sit?”

Oh yeah, important things like going home to her empty apartment, ordering copious amounts of takeout, and figuring out what the hell she was doing with her future now that it had a Justin-shaped hole in it.

“Any questions before we get started?”

Her publicist had briefed her, and she’d gone back and forth with Caitlin via IG DMs to fill in any blanks, but she liked her i’s dotted and t’s crossed. “We’re giving relationship advice to your listeners? Viewers?” She wasn’t sure what to call them since, while technically Unhinged was a podcast, episodes were also recorded and uploaded to YouTube and Instagram. “Kind of like Loveline?”

“Exactly, only minus the medical advice and not live, obviously.” Caitlin sat, long legs sprawling across the chaise side of the sectional. “Basically, I was thinking it would be cool to give advice from two different perspectives—that of a romantic and that of a realist.”

Three guesses who Truly was and the first two didn’t count.

Romantic advice. She could do that. She just needed to channel the Truly of this morning before she walked in on Justin. Or the Truly of two weeks ago before she’d agreed to Justin’s bullshit desire to go on a break. Or the Truly of four years ago whose first book had just come out, the Truly who remembered what it felt like to have butterflies.

“Awesome,” she said, trying inconspicuously to make sure she wasn’t visibly sweating through her pale blue seersucker blouse. All clear, praise extra-strength deodorant.

“And you, Colin? Any questions?”

“Nah. All good.” He grabbed a bottle of water off the bar cart before joining Truly on the couch. He was taller than her—not that that was saying much, since even the occasional sixth grader surpassed her in height. But he wasn’t too tall, not like Justin, whose mouth she’d had to stand on tiptoe to reach—and why on Earth was she thinking about how nice it would be not to have to crane her neck if she and Colin kissed?

Lulu was right. She should’ve canceled. Clearly, she was going through something. Losing her mind because even if Lulu thought it was the best way to get over someone, Truly didn’t believe in rebounds. She was a relationship girl, a one-partner—man, woman, gender didn’t matter to her—girl. She didn’t know how to separate sex and feelings, so until she was ready to date? Ménage à moi, it was.

Caitlin fiddled with the shock mount of the mic in front of her. “Of course, Colin’s the realist to your romantic.” Of course. “I’ll be here, facilitating the conversation. Giving my two cents—”

“Giving us shit,” Colin said, grinning, a little wrinkle forming along the bridge of his cute nose. Yes, cute. Ever so slightly upturned, giving him a puckish quality totally at odds with his broad shoulders and thick thighs that strained the denim of his dark wash jeans.

Caitlin threw a pen at him. He ducked and the BIC hit the wall behind him with a soft tink. “Giving you shit. I’d never dream of deriding Truly.”

“Are you a relationship therapist? Couples’ counselor?” She racked her brain for what sort of job a relationship realist might have. “Life coach?”

“Colin’s a divorce attorney.”

Talk about throwing a glass of cold water on her libido.

“Family law, technically,” he said. “But I do handle divorces.”

Relationships ended. Hello. People got divorced. Hell, Lulu was divorced and good riddance to her ex because Dan was a prick and Lulu deserved so much better. Truly loved love as much as the next person, but no one deserved to spend their life tethered to someone who wasn’t right for them, wasn’t good to them.

Still. Divorce was one of those realities of life she preferred not to think about unless it was staring her in the face. Like death and taxes and Pap smears. Someone had to be a mortician, a CPA, a gynecologist. She respected that. But being a divorce lawyer sounded like such a dirty job. Depressing, watching people who had once vowed to love each other forever suddenly bicker over 401ks and alimony. Their whole lives, ones they had built together, reduced to assets.

Being a romance writer was more than her job—it was who she was. What did Colin’s job say about him? What little kid dreamed of being a divorce lawyer?

“And that makes you qualified to give relationship advice?” She cringed. “Sorry. That was rude. I only meant—”

“It’s fine.” Colin’s smile was warm and a little lopsided, the corners of his eyes creasing. If he was offended, it didn’t show. “To be honest, I’m probably not qualified to be giving anyone advice. But my sister seems to think I am. And I’m incapable of saying no to her, so here I am.”

Caitlin rolled her eyes. “He’s being modest. Colin’s a champ at spotting a red flag.”

Fair enough. Anyone who spent that much time watching the dissolution of marriages had to have a decent working knowledge of what spelled doom for a relationship.

“If you don’t have any other questions, quick run of show—I’ll introduce you both and we’ll dive right in. If you lose your train of thought or want to start a sentence over, just take a breath, and I can edit it out in post. Sound good?”

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