Page 70 of Lovesick
Lizbeth chortled, but her face remained empathetic.
“After graduation, shortly before she was going to move on to vet school, I planned the perfect date. Picnic on the beach. Candles. Romantic music in the background. An isolated location—just the two of us beneath the stars.”
“Oh no,” she murmured.
“Stacey loved it. At least she seemed to. Then I started talking about what I really wanted—commitment. Marriage. I’d go with her to her next place and support her as she pursued her dreams.”
Lizbeth swallowed, her food long since abandoned.
“She said no?”
“Worse. She said, ‘Where is this coming from, JJ? I thought we were just friends.’”
Lizbeth’s mouth dropped. “No!”
“Yes.”
“She friend-zoned you in the worst way.”
The pain tugged at me again, but it wasn’t so bad this time. Instead, it hovered in the background, a reminder of how romance really ends.
“What did you do?” she asked.
“Not sure.” My brow wrinkled. “There’s a sense of shock that makes everything foggy. I think we argued. I remember rehashing everything that had happened between us in my mind. I had no idea how she could think we weren’t ...something. Later, I realized she was just a manipulative person who hated commitment. She never finished her vet degree and has disappeared into the world somewhere.” I waved a hand. “Regardless, it was a good thing I didn’t marry her, but it hurt like hell then.”
Lizbeth blinked. “Wow. No wonder you have a thing against romance.”
“It’s not so mucha thingas experience. Romance leads to a broken heart.”
“That wasn’t romance’s fault,” she said. “Your romantic gestures were a sincere reflection of your effort and the way you felt. The fallout? That was Stacey. She used you and manipulated you. A person broke your heart, JJ. Not love.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. She was right, and I felt it in my bones. Perhaps I’d held a vendetta against romance all these years because I assumed Stacey was in love with love. But really, Stacey had been in love with herself.
Romance had nothing to do with it.
With a sigh that dropped my shoulders an inch, I nodded. “You’re right. Point to you, Lizbeth. Romance often gets blamed for people’s problems, and I’ve been guilty of that for the last eight years.”
No sense of victory lit up her gaze, and I knew the feeling well.
She set down her fork. “Are you going to hold my hand again when we leave?”
“Yes. Do you want me to?”
She nodded, and I offered her a soft smile as we dug back into our food.
23
Lizbeth
The next day, I sat in the office and stared at the rest of the papers.
Only one small pile remained. One stupid, ridiculous group of papers left and I could move on to developing the online interface for the investors and working on the websites.
Still, I wanted to stick a fork in my eyes at the thought of scanning one more page. When I finished the paperwork, half my work here would be done. The online stuff would move easily and quickly.
Except, I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to finish.
Now that I’d Pinnable’d this place out, it wasn’t half-bad here at the office. Living in the warmth of Adventura had felt so ... easy. Uncomplicated.
