“But then I took over.”
“I liked it!”
Not as much as he had. Which was part of the problem. He’d liked it too much. “I wasn’t thinking.”
She pressed her hands into the front pockets of her pants. Shelooked like a woman who’d just been kissed, and he wanted to carry her away to a cave somewhere and keep her there forever.
“It’s okay not to think every second of every day, Sam. Sometimes it’s nice to feel. You know, to be present in the moment.”
She had no idea what she was talking about. He had to be able to think. Otherwise, he’d focus only on how good kissing her felt. He’d want more. And then he’d fall in love with her. And then life would hand her something challenging, and he’d find her hidden stash of pills. They’d start fighting, and he’d take her to rehab. And then she’d be dead, lying in a coffin with her nice sister and her nice parents looking at him with devastation.
No. No, God. Not again.
His pain decided the matter for him. He could assist her, the way he’d envisioned when he’d invited her over for dinner tonight. But he couldn’t have her as his girlfriend because she had the ability to crush him. He’d spent too long recovering from his year of depression to allow himself to be crushed. “I overstepped,” he said.
“No—”
“I overstepped my rules for myself,” he insisted. “We can’t be more than friends.”
She winced. “Why?”
“It’s just not a good idea.”
“You’re going to have to do better than that,” she said kindly.
“I’m not ... meant for relationships.”
“Of course you are.”
“They’re not good for me.”
“Maybe they haven’t been in the past, but they can be in the future. My past romances, one in particular, ended horribly. But I still have hope.”
His expression tightened.
“We’re both single, with no commitments to other people, right?” she asked.
“Right.”
“Then I don’t see the harm in kissing now and then.”
He did see the harm. He wasn’t built for superficial dating relationships. He was wired for serious love and commitment. Kissing Gen would be like playing with a stick of lit dynamite. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
She didn’t lash out. Slanting her head a little, she scrutinized him the way she would a chessboard. “Okay.”
He had an irrational urge to jerk her to him and kiss her again and tell her that he’d already changed his mind.
“Friends?” she asked. “Don’t forget that I purchased your friendship fair and square with olive oil earlier.”
“Friends,” he agreed.
“Good. Thanks for dinner.” Then she disappeared into the night.
He’d done what he’d had to do.
He’d done the wrong thing.
No, he’d done the right thing.
