Page 30 of Text Appeal

“Or not. It is, of course, your choice.”

The front windows must have hurt his feelings something awful, given the way he glares at them. And the uncomfortable moment drags on for a good long while. Until finally he says, “Last Christmas when she was home I asked her to marry me.”

“Wow. Okay. And I take it she said no?”

“There I was, down on one knee like an idiot, and she looked at the ring like it was something out of a horror movie.”

“I am so sorry, Connor.”

“No.” He shakes his head and shoves an agitated hand through his hair. “You don’t understand. The second that word came out of her mouth I was so fucking relieved.”

“Oh.”

“She was standing there crying, making all these excuses, and it was honestly like a weight had been lifted. I thought it was time. That getting married made sense. Then the words were out there and I knew it was the wrong thing to do.”

“Fair enough.” It’s a lot to take in. “If she said no, then why the hell is she back now all ready to fight for her man?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s changed for her. But we don’t belong together, and we don’t make each other happy.” He gives me a half smile. “I just want to get on with my life, Riley. So please, tell me, how do we make this work?”

“Ah,” I say with much wisdom. “We could get to know oneanother better by finding points of commonality. They’re important in relationships.”

“Like what?”

“Let’s talk about goals,” I suggest. “Life, career, whatever.”

He doesn’t even need to think about it. “I want to make some money, buy the place next door to where I live, and drive the Transalpina Highway in Romania.”

“In what kind of car?”

“A really fast one.”

“Are you going to visit Dracula’s Castle while you’re over there?”

He raises his brows. “Haven’t actually thought about it. But it would be interesting, wouldn’t it?”

“Why do you want the place next door?”

“My house is kind of small. Having just the one bedroom and office is fine for now, but eventually I’m going to need more space,” he says. “What about you? What are your goals?”

“I want to make theNew York TimesBestseller List.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes. For now,” I say. “And given the list is curated, it’s a lot harder than you think. My dream was to live in a small town by the sea, and I am doing that, so…”

“Good for you.” He smiles. “Where will you head when your lease is up here?”

“I haven’t decided what I am doing yet.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “How did you choose Port Stewart?”

“I wanted the opposite of where I grew up, so the Pacific Northwest made sense. Then I read up on coastal towns and this one sounded nice.”

The expression on his face is not supportive. In fact, the downward slant of his eyebrows is judgmental as heck.

“You don’t approve of my flippant research technique? Or you don’t approve of me frivolously moving around the country?”

He raises his shoulder in a half shrug. “I just wonder what people like you are looking for. If there’s even a chance you’ll find it, or if you’ll just get bored and set off on the next big adventure.”

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