Page 7 of Screwed (Dad Bod Contracting 4)
“But you never got there.”
“Nope.”
“So then you went into nursing.”
I shrug, nod. “Yeah. I couldn’t go back to Washington, had no desire to. Planning parties was a thing I’d done because I enjoyed it but somehow, without Craig, it wasn’t fun anymore. So I went back to school, at first just sort of taking random classes to see what sparked my interest. An anatomy and physiology class caught my attention, and I ended up in the nursing program.”
“That’s the class where you met the guy who wanted to churn your butter?”
I laugh. “Yeah, exactly. I decided I wanted to try something different. I’d always been sort of buttoned up, by the book. I only had sex with guys I was in relationships with, and then only long-term—that oops with Calhoun was an exception, and even that turned into a relationship. I kept to myself for a long, long time after Craig died. But then I was just…I don’t know. Lonely? Horny? Tired of being alone, and lonely and horny? I needed sex, but couldn’t deal with emotions. So I tried hooking up—casual sex. That guy, the butter churner guy, and a few others. There was about…I don’t know exactly…maybe two years while I was in nursing school where I was pretty promiscuous. But I just…I don’t know. I gave that up, once I got my MS and got a job out here.”
“Gave what up?”
I shrug. “Sex.”
“That self-imposed celibacy you mentioned,” Laurel says. “So you really haven’t had sex in three years?”
“Yep. That lifestyle just stopped being fun. I was always the kind of girl who got more enjoyment from sex when it…I don’t know…when it meant something. Even a little bit of something—it didn’t have to be love. I just needed some kind of connection. I couldn’t do the casual sex thing. I tried—I really did, but I hated it. I felt dirty, like I was using the guys. I always felt more empty afterward than I had beforehand. So eventually, I just stopped pretending and focused on my nursing work.”
“And you have no intention of—” Laurel stops, shrugs. “I don’t know, of…letting anyone get close again?”
I shake my head. “Nope. After Craig, my heart was just…irreparably broken.” I drag my toes on the barn floor as the swing gently creaks, creating parallel scuff marks in the dust. “I loved Landon, but he’d broken my heart and my trust. I can’t say I exactly loved the senator, but he’d still hurt me. Craig, though—I’d given myself to him heart, mind, body, and soul, and his death just…shattered me. I’m broken by it, and I don’t know how to…” I shrug, shake my head, trail off.
Laurel leans her head on my shoulder. “I understand. As well as I can, at least, not having been through that.”
I stare at her. “ I know you have more to say than that.”
She shrugs. “Sure. But you’re not here for my advice. You needed to vent.”
“You’re not going to bring up James?”
She grins. “I don’t have to, because you just did.”
“Everyone wants me and him to get together, and neither of us are there. He for his reasons, and me for mine.”
“They’re the same reasons, I think. Or similar.”
I groan. “Sure, maybe. But so what? We’re both dead to love. Why bother?”
Laurel wraps an arm around me. “Oh, Nova.”
I pull away. “What?”
“If you were dead to love, you wouldn’t be here.”
I glare at her. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, if you were dead to love, it wouldn’t be so hard for you to plan Jesse and Imogen’s wedding.”
“It reminds me of Craig, that’s all.”
She glares at me. “You’re a bad liar.”
I growl in annoyance. “I’m not saying I’m, like, without feelings. I’m not some sociopath or whatever. I loved Craig. Planning weddings was something I did frequently when I was with him, and they were my favorite kind of event. I did bachelor and bachelorette parties, kid’s parties, graduations, all that, but I loved doing weddings best of all.” I swallow hard. “Probably because I was so sure that one day soon I’d be planning my own to Craig. That’s what kept me going, what gave me my creativity.” I wave a hand. “It has nothing whatsoever to do with James.”
“Then why’d you bring him up?” Laurel asks.
“I didn’t. I asked if you were going to.”
Laurel just smirks. “Sure.”
I stand up, annoyed. “God, you’re all so smug about this. You’re all so certain I’m going to just, what? Fall into bed with James, and end up in love?”
“None of us have said that.”
“It’s implied.”
“You’re lonely, Nova. Lonely and bitter. And cranky. You need sex. You need companionship. We all just think there’s something there with you and James, and that you should at least give it a look, see what it is and see if it’s worth pursuing.”
“It won’t be.” My voice is flat, hard.
