Page 56 of No More Love Songs

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KIT

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“I had a thought.” IfI’m being honest, I’ve had lots of those since dropping Ari off, all of them about Sky, many of them overlapping, most of which I have no intention of speaking out loud. But this one thought, the one I’m about to share, I think is a good one. Best of all, it fits within the ‘be in the moment’ perimeters of our mutually agreed to arrangement. “Are you up for another little adventure tonight?”

“Is it something I could possibly fall in love with?” she asks, leading the way into the kitchen, and I can’t help but notice, straight to the coffee maker.

“I’d say it’s very possible.” I meet her at the coffee maker and stop her from adding fresh grounds to make a new pot. “How about we start with food. And then add caffeine.”

She makes a face. “It’s not like dessert, you know. Coffee is perfectly acceptable any time of day, regardless of what you’ve eaten. It doesn’t have to be earned with proper nutrition.”

“True, but my plan for tonight involves height and requires some balance. Taking your ass up there pumped full of caffeine and vibrating from head to toe, just sounds like a bad idea to me. Because I don’t want you to fall. And die.” He makes a face. “That would kind of ruin my night.”

“Just your night, huh?” She looks less than impressed with my grim sense of reasoning. “I mean, I don’t wanna die either,” she mumbles.

“Good call.” I smirk, leading her away from the coffee maker and toward a stool at the counter. “Instead of dying, let’s sit, chat and I’ll make dinner.”

“I can’t help?” she offers, already sliding from her seat again.

“Nope.” I gesture for her to get her ass back in her seat.

“Why not? I’ve gotten really good at using kitchen things. You’ve tried my sandwiches. I have a gift, my friend.”

“Undeniably true,” I concede, though not without letting her know I’m mocking her ever so slightly. “But still, no. I’m doing the cooking. And you’re just going to sit back, not argue, or question and just let me. There, that’s probably a new thing for you too.”

She scoffs. Then she grins. Because I’m fucking right. “Fine. I’ll try that this once. But I’m pretty sure it’s not going to make the list of things I could fall in love with.”

We’ll see about that.

“Speaking of things you could fall in love with,” I start, fully intent on distracting her from her desire to obsess and control every little thing happening in front of her, “How are we doing with that little experiment? Making the sort of progress that might persuade you to start writing love songs again? Or leaning stronger than ever in the opposite direction?”

Her first reaction is to scowl. Then, she starts to mull it over. “Truthfully? I have to admit, though I find it annoying, that you’ve definitely shown me a different way of hearing songs. Even the ones I’ve come to loathe over the years suddenly don’t make my skin crawl when I think about them the way you hear them. And I like that,” she admits, picking at the veggies I’ve started to pile onto the counter in preparation for the picnic dinner I’m putting together for us.

“Sounds like there’s a ‘but’ coming,” I observe, waiting to hear what it is before I start chopping things.

“There is,” she admits, snapping off the top of a carrot with her teeth. She chews for a moment, clearly stalling, before she finally goes on, “I don’t know, maybe it’s just ego. Like, I was wrong about love for so long, and I screwed up every time I chose someone to open up to and fall for, and then, finally, I feel like I have this major revelation, this huge moment of truth, that love just isn’t out there for me. And that the only way to ever heal from the colossal mess I made of my life and the never-ending heartbreak I subjected myself to, was to just cut ties with it.” She points her carrot at me accusingly. “I felt really good about that, you know? Totally empowered, like I was taking back something that was taken from me when I wasn’t strong enough to stop it.” She shakes her head. “And then you come along and you screw it all up.”

“Because I’m all wise and shit and make you see that there’s more to love than just the romance side?” I tease softly. I’ve learned when she’s being over the top, it’s mostly to hide the fact that at the core of what she’s saying, is her truth. Her heart. Her pain. And I’m still figuring out how to navigate these moments and make her feel heard while not taking her too seriously either.

She doesn’t respond, and I start to think maybe I screwed it up this go around.

When I look up from the garlic I’m mincing, she’s deep in thought, staring straight at her carrot.

She must feel me watching her, because she looks up and picks up our conversation as if the silence never happened. “Yeah. Something like that.” Then she smiles, but it’s not a real smile. She’s hiding something else now. And this time, I can’t see what it is.

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