Page 46 of Mine

“Do you know why you didn’t kill me?”

“Why?”

“Because you are as attracted to me as I am to you.”

Twenty-Seven

Astor

Nursing a glass of whiskey, I close out of my email and exhale, staring at the closed door of my office. Due to the unexpected change of dinner plans—i.e., Sabine trying to escape—I’ve decided to lock myself away and drink my dinner. Which, in an ironic twist, is only making me more irritable.

I’m sorry . . .

The two words have played on repeat in my head since I said them. I cannot remember the last time I apologized to someone. Probably to my mother, and she’s been dead for years.

If Sabine has thrown me off-kilter thus far, I am now officially upside down.

It is a jarring and uncomfortable feeling.

I was so taken aback by my submission to Sabine that I had Cillian deal with her ankle. I regret this, as I seem to regret and question every single thing I do or say to Sabine.

Her ankle is fine, Cillian informed me after I’d texted no less than four times, demanding an update. For twenty minutes, I stewed in my office chair, staring at my phone, not liking how I felt knowing that he was tending to her instead of me. That he was looking at her, touching her, speaking to her. That she was looking back at him, close to him. Possibly falling for him instead of me?

Now it’s all I can think about.

“Goddamn it!” I hurl my whiskey against the wall, shattering the crystal into a million little pieces.

Chest heaving, I lean forward, open a new search, and type: How to get a woman.

A slew of websites pop up that will surely get my computer flagged by the FBI. What the hell is wrong with people? Oh, wait, it’s me. I’m the people.

Groaning, I close out of that search and open another:

How to keep a woman.

Same result—a dozen articles with very questionable strategies.

Maybe I’m looking at this all wrong. Maybe “getting” and “keeping” aren’t the way to a woman’s heart.

Frustrated, I scrub my hands over my face. “You are unbelievable, Stone.”

How is it that I can singlehandedly run a billion-dollar business but am rendered ignorant when it comes to the opposite sex?

You are a complete idiot, I type into the search box. These results are actually on point.

After a few deep breaths, I type:

How to be in a relationship

How to make a woman happy

And finally,

How to love a woman

For hours, I pore over articles written by medical professionals and psychologists, engrossed by the content. For hours, I sit in awe of how much I’ve failed every woman I’ve ever been with. How unavailable I’ve been, both emotionally and physically.

No wonder I’ve never been in love. I’m a self-absorbed asshole with the emotional maturity of a fourteen-year-old. I feel embarrassed. Ashamed. Angry.

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