Page 39 of Lovesick
“But if you assign romance to any random gesture, then whatisit?” I asked in exasperation.
Why did it feel like we were talking in circles?
“Romance?”
“Yes.”
“Good question.” She blinked several times. “Not sure how to define it yet, honestly. But I’m working on that.”
“If you can’t define it, it’s not real.”
She snorted and leaned forward. “Maybe romance isn’t real to you, JJ, but it is to me. Maybe it’s like ... God. Some people acknowledge God exists and others don’t. But that doesn’t make God any less real to those whodobelieve, right?”
“Your comparison is based on the assumption that God is real. Both romance and God are beliefs, regardless of what someone else perceives as truth. Therefore, your beliefs and expectations are pushed onto others when you hold a standard of romance onto them.”
The fire that had built in her eyes ebbed into confusion.
“We weren’t talking about me pushing my beliefs or expectations of romance onto anybody. We were talking about it being real to me, but not you. And that’s okay.”
I gulped. Right. I had introduced that out of nowhere.Whyhad I said that?
“Right,” I said.
An awkward silence filled the space for a couple of heartbeats. How to backpedal out of this? She spared me the pain of salvaging my pride by putting a hand on my arm.
“It’s not that I’d want to push my expectations onto anyone,” she said quietly. “If a man I dated didn’t believe in romance, that’d be fine. But I expect my belief to be respected. If that person wanted to keep me, I would expect certain romantic gestures. Is that fair?”
Unable to speak with her warm hand sending fire up my arm, I nodded. She smiled, dissolving the strangeness between us.
“What are they?” I asked in a poor attempt to recover some ground. “Your expectations, I mean.”
The rogue question slipped out of me before I could stop it. I cleared my throat. She grinned like a Cheshire cat, gathered her empty plate and fork, and stood up.
“Wouldn’t you love to know?”
Iwouldlove to know.
That was precisely the problem.
Thankfully, my phone rang. I grabbed it out of my pocket, saw the name on the screen, and quickly picked it up. Lizbeth waved me off before I could apologize, and I gratefully slipped outside without a jacket. No need for her to overhear this.
Not yet, anyway.
15
Lizbeth
“Please tell me that it’s safe and fun and you’re warm. Then proceed to tell me everything that’s happened.”
Bethany’s pixelated image peered at me through the phone. The Wi-Fi wasn’t too bad for this far from civilization, but it certainly took a while sometimes. She didn’t look as tired today. The rocking chair framed her shoulders, and I could just see the pink tip of an ear as Shane nursed. My heart squeezed.
“Not as fun as it would be if I were there with Shane,” I said with a little melancholy. “I wish I could help you more. Though, arguably, there may not be a person on this planet who needs more help than Mark Bailey.”
She chuckled. “You’d get wildly bored. Beyond burping, diapers, and cleaning up messes, I mostly just nurse him and bounce on that stupid exercise ball to help him fall asleep. It’s not thrilling. But it has lovely moments.”
“Any news on the shop?”
“Just waiting for the insurance adjuster.”
