Page 94 of The Valentine's Bet

I nod. “I should’ve taken up for Amy more at dinner—and tried to help Dalton understand thatI’mthe problem, not her.”

“I think maybe you were just so focused on winning the bet—and onnotfalling in love—that you were burying and ignoring your feelings for her. But subconsciously, I can almost guarantee you never wanted things to work out between her and Dalton.”

I snort. “It wasn’t all subconscious.”

“Cool, then go fix it.”

I hesitate. “But ... I don’t know how to do that. I don’t even know where to start.”

Weston raises an eyebrow. “You start by being honest with her. Tell her how you feel. Apologize for messing things up and for not acknowledging your own feelings sooner. You owe her that much, at least.”

“Okay, but then what? We just live happily ever after? I don’t even knowhowto be in love.”

“You learn, Parker. You figure it out as you go. You talk, you listen, you make compromises. You take a chance and let yourself be vulnerable. Love isn’t about having all the answers or being perfect—it’s about being willing to try, to grow, and to be there for each other through all the ups and downs. And let’s not forget, you are one of the most loving people I know. You care for your friends and your family. You put their needs above your own. Heck, you went to how many singles events just to support me?”

“Too many.” I chuckle.

“Exactly. You know what to do. Now go embrace those warm fuzzy feelings and get your girl before it’s too late.”

My girl.

My mind flashes to our mind-blowing kiss on New Year’s Eve. To the way she lights up a room the moment she walks in. The way her eyes sparkle when she talks about her passions and the way her laugh fills me with a warmth I’ve never known. The way she smiles in the morning and the way she rambles about her day—her quirks, her dreams, her fears (or lack thereof). The way she acted like the small cut on my finger was a big deal and how she gently bandaged it up, fussing over me with such care.

Then my brain flashes to how she looked at me when we stepped into the restaurant with Dalton and Maeve....

And the pain on her face when I just couldn’t get the words out after she professed her feelings to me.

I let her walk home alone.

“You can fix this,” Weston says in a reassuring voice. “I know you can.”

I swallow hard, terrified by the thought. “I don’t know how well she’ll take it after everything...”

Weston shrugs. “If you don’t, you’ll regret it. And personally, I think the regret of a love never explored is much more painful than that of a love lost.”

“I think you should be a poet,” I joke. “You have a way with words.”

He shrugs. “Your sister thinks so, too.”

I narrow my eyes. “What?”

“Nothing. Let’s focus on you and Amy right now.”

As much as I want tonotdo that, I relent. I need to fix this ... I just don’t know how.

But I’m determined to figure it out.

Hours later, I’m searching Facebook for Eliza Walters, Amy’s best friend from Chicago—er, well, they met in Chicago. Amy told me the story a million times, but the name of the tiny town that Eliza lives in now still escapes me.

Which has made it a bit harder to find her.

I just need to know if Amy found someone to go to the concert with before I reach out to her...

A knock on my door grabs my attention, and I halfway expect Weston to come prancing in again for another pep talk. But whoever’s there doesn’t let themselves in.

They knock again.

Letting out a sigh, I abandon my spot on the couch and head for the door, peeping through the tiny hole.

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