Page 37 of The First Love Myth

“Because you don’t seem the type to use speed dating for divorcees as a way to lure men into your bed. And...”

“And?” I ask, lifting my head. At least he doesn’t think I’m a deplorable person.

He shakes his head. “Tell me about your husband.”

The word sounds dirty from his mouth despite the fact that he says it evenly and calmly, as if the woman he was about to kiss having a husband is a nonissue. Well, clearly not a nonissue, but if Spencer were the one with a wife, the rug would’ve caught fire with how quickly I would be at the door. But he only stares at me, waiting for an explanation.

“We’re separated,” I say since that seems like the most pertinent part. “It’s been about six weeks.” The number startles me. How is it only and already six weeks? “I found out he was talking to another woman, someone he met while traveling for work. And there’s only been one kiss between them, but he wanted something more to happen, and emotionally... When I confronted him, he had that look in his eyes, the one he gets when he’s about to run. I hadn’t seen that look for years... WhenI saw it, I knew, and I couldn’t wait around to be left or cheated on, so I walked away.”

Spencer leans forward, his hands clasped between his knees. He looks over at me. “Then this isn’t a hall pass kind of thing?”

I hate that phrase. A hall pass. Is that what Julian thinks he’s giving me? A pass to take some time since he’s taken so much in the past? Anger swells in my chest, and my cheeks brighten. I steel myself for a battle. Except Julian’s not here, and Spencer is waiting for an answer.

“No,” I say, attempting to keep my tone neutral and not let on that there’s a fire kindling inside me. “It’s not a hall pass. We’re separated. I moved out. I’m free to do whatever I please. There’s no set timeline or plans to discuss reconciliation. It’s not like when my lease is up in six months, I go home and this never happened.”

Those words hit me hard. This isn’t temporary. Whatever happens next, this moment is not a stopgap. “My marriage is ending. And I don’t know if it will—if I want it to—begin again.”

I watch Spencer, this man I hardly know and yet feel like I’ve known for much longer than the few hours we’ve been together. His face is shadowed in thought. The gold of his eyes has darkened to amber, and his lips are pressed in a line. What is it about this man? He’s my type—brown hair, golden eyes, tall, refined dad bod—but it’s more than that. His life shows on his face—a crinkle there, a worry line here, a faded scar that runs down his jawline where the first signs of stubble have sprouted. I cup his face, the scratchy little hairs exciting each and every nerve in my hand and beyond. One simple touch, and my body lights up.

His gaze slides to mine. His expression is open and questioning and nervous. My love story never had those looks. From that first kiss on the deck of a cruise ship, Julian had my whole heart. But here, tonight, what happens next involves a realrisk. And Spencer has to consider the risk for himself and his son.

“Maybe I should go.” I stand quickly and shoulder my bag. I don’t look back until I reach the door. I can’t. If he’s still staring at me like that, I won’t be able to leave. With one hand on the doorknob, I turn with what I hope at least appears to be a real smile. “Thank—”

“Liz.”

He’s been saying my name all night but not in that way. Not with a hint of exasperation that is far too familiar for our short-lived acquaintance, and that makes my insides quake. And he hasn’t been close enough that goose bumps rise on my arms.

I look up at him, almost a full head taller than me. How nice would it be to rest my head on his chest? That’s always been one of my silent complaints about Julian. He isn’t tall enough for me to rest my head naturally over his heart, and forget it if I wear heels.

Almost of its own volition, my hand goes to Spencer’s chest, fingers splayed across his heart, which beats a steady rhythm. When I look up again, his eyes are on mine. He cups my face, his fingers again tangling in the loose strands. Desire shoots through me, real and honest and overwhelming. Spencer leans down, no hesitation this time, no coy statements, his fingers soft on my skin, his breath against my lips.

I close my eyes and lean up on my tiptoes. Our lips meet, and that desire explodes. It courses through me, pushing the kiss from soft to playful to deep. I wrap my arms around his neck. His one hand cradles my head while the other rests at the sliver of bare skin at my waist.

A perfect kiss. It’s been too long since I had a perfect kiss. For so long, I thought I’d had my last first kiss, but thank god I was wrong. If this kiss never ends, I will be okay with that. His tongue dances with mine, and I can’t think. I lean fartherinto the kiss. My body is alive, and it wants more, please. I sigh against his lips as he explores my mouth with his own, dancing with me as if we’ve been dancing forever.

He pulls back, stopping for one last peck. “Shall I walk you to your car?”

It’s an invite and an out. Spencer is clearly in, but he’s letting me decide. My body begs me to say yes. One night of pure pleasure with this sexy stranger is everything I need in this moment. But my mind can’t see through to the end. Would I really be able to do it? I’m not the casual-sex type, not when I was single or rebounding. And whatever I am now, I’m not sure that includes sex on the first date or potentially a one-night stand. Though, maybe it doesn’t have to be black and white. There’s an entire spectrum of colors between being walked to my car and falling into bed.

I let my bag drop to the floor and pull him back toward the couch. “Ten more minutes?”

Chapter 32

Cecilia

There’s always an ache in my chest after a trip back home. A longing for a life I might have had if things hadn’t turned so awful all those years ago. It’s why I don’t often return unless Liz beckons. Whether that makes me cold or a coward, I’m uncertain, but either way, in the week I’ve been home, I’ve talked to my mom more than I have in a long time. Evie’s used her key every night, and despite every principle I’ve followed since leaving the state of New Jersey, I’m already planning another trip.

I offered to cook for Evie tonight. Living alone, I’ve picked up quite a few skills in the kitchen. But I’m keeping it simple. Marinara from the Italian deli downtown simmers next to a pot of boiling water while the meatballs bake. Garlic bread waits on the counter for its turn in the oven. I stir the penne absently, glancing out the window to check for Evie’s car. Again. Whatever case she’s working has kept her at the office late all week. She can’t talk about it, a side effect of being a counselor for wayward children, but I don’t doubt she’s telling the truth. I can see the effects of it in the set of her shoulders and the tiredness dulling her eyes.

My phone buzzes, and I jump to answer like a little kid offered a fudge pop, but it’s not Evie. I need to get a grip.

“Hi, Mom.” I tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder.

“You got your sister’s invite, right? You’re coming? I told her you would come back for it.”

I laugh at my mom’s flustered excitement. She wants to see Liz’s place something awful. Almost as much as she wants to meet Evie, especially now that my girlfriend is sister-approved. “Yes, Mom. I’m figuring out the details now.”

“And Evie is coming.”

---