Page 5 of Snowed In on Valentine's Day

“Oh?” Her eyebrows rose, and she leaned forward.

My lips turned up at the corners. “No men.”

“No—do you mean …” She paused and tilted her head thoughtfully. “Do you want to date women?”

I laughed. “No. I mean, maybe I shouldn’t rule it out, but that’s not what I meant. I mean no dating anyone. I need a break, maybe a long one.”

Her eyes were huge now as her mouth opened and then closed.

“You look shocked. Should I be offended? Am I a serial dater or something?” I asked her with a smile. When she didn’t respond right away, my brows furrowed. “Wait, you think I am?”

“No!” She averted her eyes as I studied her expression.

“You totally do!”

She winced. “No, I—we wouldn’t call it that, exactly.”

I bit back a smile. “Oh, what wouldwecall it then?”

“Well, we … um,” she floundered as she took a nervous sip of her tea, now cold. “I mean, I …”

I laughed. “It’s OK, Mari. I’m teasing, mostly. I’m a serial dater, aren’t I? I didn’t even realize it until now.” I cringed. “Wow, I thought I had more self-awareness than that.”

Her eyes were full of sympathy. “We all struggle to see some parts of ourselves realistically. I know that better than most people. But in your case … I mean, the term ‘serial dater’ isn’t great. It sounds kind of bad. I think—” She stopped, her eyes uncertain now. “Do you want to know what I really think?”

“Always,” I assured her. Well, the truth was, I was just like every other human being on the planet, and sometimes I wasn’t in the mood to keep it real. A little denial never hurt anyone, right?A little. I almost laughed at my own rationalization, considering that one of my talents was to help others face their own thoughts and feelings—their truth. But Mariana had always needed lots of reassurance in this department, and I was happy to give it to her.

She took a deep breath. “OK. I think you’re a hopeless romantic, so you want to be in love. But you’re selective, and maybe you are afraid to commit. You always find reasons not to. But again because of the hopeless romantic thing, you keep trying. Over and over. Without really addressing the reasons it’s not working out.” Her eyes widened, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my—Haz, I’m so sorry. That sounded terrible, and I didn’t mean to—”

“Mari, it’s OK. I can handle it.” I offered a bright smile that I didn’t feel on the inside.

Was she right? Was that really my problem? “How is it thatyou, who avoided all things emotions foryears, until like a year ago, are so perceptive?” I forced a laugh.

She shrugged. “Am I wrong? I might be. As you said, I don’t have a great track record.” She paused and then continued more quietly, “If you disagree though, what part of it is wrong?”

And I couldn’t think of a single thing.

Hopeless romantic? Check.

Selective? Maybe.

Afraid to commit? Um. Was I?

“I don’t disagree—I’m just thinking about this. Like, how can a serial dater be selective? Especially in a small town like this?” I shook my head with a small smile.

“Correction. You’re not that selective in the men you date. The selectiveness comes in a bit later, especially when things are going well and potentially progressing toward something more solid.” She stopped, seeing my pained expression. “Like Brian from a month ago? You said he was perfect. I thought he was perfect. And then suddenly, you ended it.”

I scoffed. “He snored! Really loud. I’m a light sleeper, so that’s a dealbreaker.”

“Or what about Jackson? The guy who moved here from Iowa? You told me he liked Pepsi, and you liked Coke. You broke him with him the day after Valentine’s Day.”

I nodded. “Well, that’s true. We—”

“Beverage choices are not a reason to end a very promising relationship, Haz,” she chided me gently.

I sighed loudly. “OK, I get it.” My eyes searched hers for a long moment. “Mari, how long have you been thinking this? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Her brows scrunched together. “It wasn’t a fully formed opinion until recently. Terry and I were talking last week—”

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