Page 19 of My Lumberjack Valentine

“None of it was supposed to be real, but fuck…it feels real, Abi.”

My sister lets out a whoosh of breath. “Well, damn. That’s quite a story. So you’re telling me you’re fake dating this girl called Rosalie just to claim the inheritance, but now you’ve fallen for her for real?”

“Yes.” The answer falls decisively from my lips. “I’m fucking crazy about her.”

“Well, it serves you right, you lying asshole!” Abi laughs.

“I know. Fuck, this wasn’t supposed to happen. I don’t even believe in love, so why the hell do I feel so…” I taper off, unable to find the words.

“So in love?” Abi suggests.

My heart flips, the word echoing around my mind.

Love.

Abi’s right. I love Rosalie. Hell, I think I had feelings for her the moment we met. It might not have been while opening a jar of jawbreakers, but the love at first sight part was always true.

“Yes.” I swallow hard. “I’m in love with her, Abi. Fuck, it doesn’t make sense. How can I be in love if I don’t think love is real?”

“Sounds like you need to update your dumb old beliefs, Boone. Love is real, and it’s about time you realized that.” I can hear the smile in Abi’s voice as she continues, “And if Rosalie feels the same way, then you don’t need to pretend anymore. You get your inheritance, she gets her candy store, and you both get each other. It’s a triple win!”

“I don’t know if she feels the same. I haven’t asked her.”

Fuck, I hope she does.

She’s an angel and I’m a grumpy old lumberjack.

She’s sweet as hell and I’m a miserable cynic.

But goddammit, if she loves me back, I’ll be the happiest man on earth.

“Well then, what are you still doing on the phone with me?” Abi asks. “Go tell her how you feel, you big dumb idiot!”

I nod even though she can’t see me, adrenaline buzzing through my veins. “On it. Bye, Abi.”

I end the call and hurry down the hall, heading straight for the bedroom. But the bed is empty. I check the bathroom, the living room, the kitchen—but the woman I love is nowhere to be found.

“Rosalie?” I call, scanning every room until I end up back in the bedroom where I started. My heart lurches unpleasantly as I peer out of the window. Her car is gone.

Did she leave to open the candy store?

But if so, why didn’t she say goodbye?

I grab a flannel shirt and jeans from the closet, pulling them on before heading back into the living room. Something on the coffee table catches my eye—something that wasn’t there when I grabbed my phone earlier. It glints, catching the light, glowing like a miniature sun.

Grandma’s diamond ring.

It’s sitting on top of a note, and I pick it up, my hands shaking.

Boone

I can’t do this anymore.

I’m sorry.

Rosalie

I read the note over and over, the nine words imprinting themselves on my brain until my head hurts. I grab the ring, the cold weight of it turning my stomach, and I bury it deep in my pocket, breathing hard.

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