Page 52 of Book of Love

“You could have lived where Shakespeare lived.”

“I know.”

Lincoln’s chest tightened with frustration. “Do you know the resources that would have been available? The things you could have seen, done, learned?”

“Is this what you came here for?” Grace’s eyes suddenly sparked. “To lecture me about a decision I made years ago that you know nothing about? I read the offer, Lincoln. I chose to say no. That’s it.”

No, dammit. That was notit.

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” he demanded.

“What?”

“When you were a kid. What did you want to be when you grew up?”

“I don’t know.” She yanked open a cupboard and reached for a glass. “For most of my life, I assumed I’d take over Berry Farms. Then in high school, I became increasingly interested in literature, so I started thinking more about teaching. And I had such good teachers and college professors…I wanted to have the same influence on students that they had on me.”

“You never wanted to be anything else? An astronaut, an actor, a scientist?”

“No.” She opened the fridge and took out a glass bottle of milk. “Why are you asking me all these questions anyway?”

“I just don’t get it.” He flexed his hands and stalked to the windows. “You’re so smart. You know so much. You’re sogoodat what you do. Why would you limit yourself?”

“Making choices doesn’t mean I’mlimitingmyself.”

“Attending the Shakespeare Institute would have opened up a whole new world for you.”

“I didn’t need a whole new world. I like the world I live in.” She frowned. “Does this have to do with what I said about giving the students a realistic view of your adventures?”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with your students.” He stopped and drummed his fingers on the counter. “This has to do withyou.”

“Iam fine with all the decisions I’ve made.” She poured a glass of milk and set the bottle down with a thunk. “Not that any of them are your business. And frankly, not all of us are gung-ho about climbing volcanos and going to Antarctica. Some people prefer a quieter life.”

“You mean a smaller life.”

“That too.” She slammed the refrigerator door shut and carried her plate and glass into the living room. “Smaller doesn’t mean inferior. Haven’t you learned that in all your travels? Do you think the lobster fishermen in Alaska would appreciate being told they were living a less significant life than a famous author whose assets are worth God knows how much?”

“I didn’t say inferior, and I’m not talking about fishermen.” He stopped in the living room doorway and crossed his arms. “I’m talking about the fact that you’re…what, twenty-nine—”

“Twenty-eight.”

Christ. Seven years younger than him wasn’t a chasm, but it was enough years—and they had enough differences—to break apart any illusions that might have been taking shape.

“Twenty-eight.” He fixed his gaze on her face. “I’m almost thirty-six. I’ve been around enough to know that some people are meant for bigger lives than the ones they’re living.”

“Yeah?” She set her plate and glass on the coffee table. “Well, do you also know that some people choose their life? My life might not be as big and exciting as yours, but it’s mine. I created it. At least I’m honest about who I am and where I want to be. I don’t need to travel around the world to escape the person everyone expects me to be.”

Tension shot through his spine. “Then why do you act like that person? You said it yourself. People stereotype you as a spinster schoolteacher who prefers the company of her cat to people.”

Her throat worked with a swallow. “So?”

“So why do you hide behind that? What are you afraid of?”

“Nothing! I just happen to be comfortable in a smaller world than you are. If you don’t like that, too bad. You’re not living my life and, frankly, your sudden fixation on it is a little weird. Why don’t you worry about yourself instead? You don’t escape to Alaska and the jungle just to fuel your writing. What are you running away from?”

His jaw clenched involuntarily. She arched an eyebrow, her mouth twisting.

“Not fun having the tables turned, is it?” she asked crisply. “Don’t judge me if you don’t want to be judged.”

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