Page 27 of Love and Other Risky Business

I went with Nic when he bought Addison’s ring, intent on talking him out of it. Then I saw this ring. Two carats. Emerald cut. At that moment, I knew trying to fuck away my feelings for her wasn’t going to work. I’d had a scorching hot threesome the night before, and here I was, staring at a ring, wanting only her for the rest of my life. The thought of slipping this ring onto those long, talented fingers is more exciting than anything I’ve done in my life—threesomes and stunts combined.

I had the money, so I returned later that day without Nic, and bought the ring, planning on proposing one day. But even if I didn’t have the money, I would’ve sold a kidney to buy it. It’s perfect for her.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Her voice is threatening, and I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t smack a man in a hospital bed for being a presumptuous prick. Not 100 percent sure. More like 92 percent. “You bought this for me four months after we met?”

“I love you.”

She looks ready to cry. When I beckon for her to come to me, she shakes her head. “You don’t love me. I don’t know where this is coming from, but you can’t.”

“I do.”

Mina takes a deep breath and I can see the moment she becomes unreachable to me. “Timothy. You date a new person every week, right?”

Oh, no. She’s got it all wrong. Those aren’tdatedates. “You don’t—”

“Fine, nearly every week. Let’s say forty people a year. We’ve known each other for five years.”

Shit. Math. My head is splitting now. “Well, that’s not really—”

“Two hundred people, Timothy. You’ve ‘dated’ at least that, probably more. If you loved me, you wouldn’t want to be with anyone else. Not two hundred other people. You’d only want me.”

“But I—”

“You don’t love me, Timothy.”

Down the hall, a wheel squeaks on a cart, rolling closer as little pinpricks of uncertainty dance up my spine. She doesn’t believe me. I didn’t expect Mina, of all people, to think me incapable of love and commitment.

“I do,” I insist. She’s not going to believe the truth about my supposedly busy love life. I need to change the subject. The past doesn’t matter if she feels the same. “Do you love me? Is that why you haven’t dated anyone in the last five years?”

“I haven’t met anyone worth breaking my heart over.” She looks out the window as she says it.

My heart squeezes at that, an extra blip on the monitor. Or there should be, anyway. “Give it to me and I won’t ever break it. You can trust me.”

She shakes her head. “We’re better as friends, Timothy.”

“We’d be even better as more. Give me a chance.”

The squeaky wheel stops outside my room as Mina and I stare at each other, waiting for the intrusion to go away (me) or anticipating the interruption (Mina, probably).

“Lunchtime,” a woman announces, stepping into the room, tray in hand. She sets it on my table.

“Join me for lunch?” I ask Mina, waving at the covered mystery food while the woman refills my water.

Wait a second. It’s lunchtime? I frown. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“They fired me,” she says, making a weak attempt at jazz hands. “I left early yesterday and overslept this morning.”

Anger fires me up enough to push the headache away. “Nope. Give me your phone. Cruella has gone too far this time.”

Seriously, the way that woman treats her team is despicable. She’s had Mina on the phone with me, so angry I could hear the tears in her eyes, more times than I should have ever let happen. It ends today.

Mina holds up her phone, raising an eyebrow. The whole thing is cracked to hell. “It barely works, and I don’t need you making things worse.”

Okay, right. Probably me ripping Cruella a new one won’t reflect well on Mina in the industry. My phone is charging, just out of reach. I motion to it with gimme hands. “I’ll find you a better job.” With better pay. Better hours.

“Timothy.” The tone in her voice is exasperated. Tears of frustration are filling her eyes. “Stop.”

“There’s a historical for this streaming service starting—”

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