He was charming as hell at first, always opening doors and standing from his chair when I stood. And I’m such a sucker for a guy who tips his hat at a woman. Not to mention Shane spoiled me with compliments and sweet gestures.
He acted like my doody didn’t stink—until I unintentionally embarrassed him in public, that is. Now I know he’s a man with deep insecurities and a temper to match. I can’t believe I even felt bad enough for him to patch up his bleeding knuckles after he punched the brick wall by my head. My good sense clearly left me in that moment. Good thing I got it back when he proceeded to crack my picture frame while we were talking it out.
So, yeah, hearing that Shane doesn’t intend to leave me in the past is not welcome news. I’m way too old for this shit.
“And what happens when he loses interest, and we break off this fake engagement of yours?”
I’ll tell you what will happen. I’ll be the recipient of several hundred pitying expressions and the name on everyone’s lips as they whisper behind my back.I mean, did she really think Dallas Gamble would settle for her in the end? Poor dear.
“Who says we have to break it off?”
My jaw drops at Dallas’s response, but he keeps yammering.
“It’ll be fun living together. We spend most of our free time together anyway. This will just make it easier. And, besides, Rydloves you.Andwe had a pact. Do I need to pull out the napkin again?”
I choke out a laugh, but this shit ain’t funny. “Dallas, are you hearing yourself?” He may as well have said,Well, Shelby, since we know you’ll never find a man to love you, you might as well move in, take care of my kid, and save us some gas money while you’re at it.
He has the nerve to shrug those broad shoulders. “What’s so horrible about marrying me?” He proceeds to shove his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.
My chin drops to my chest, and I lose a little bit of my saltiness at his hangdog expression. It always surprises me when Dallas has these moments of self-doubt. He’s a successful carpenter and artisan with a great family, and everyone in town dotes on him like he’s the second coming of Pedro Pascal. What more could he ask for?
I let out a long sigh and bring my gaze back to his frowning face. “Seriously, Dallas? Any woman who married you would be lucky. You’re a fantastic friend, you’ve got a mushy heart, you’re funny, and evenIcan admit you’re kinda easy on the eyes too.”
One corner of his mouth curves upward, and the twinkle is back in his eyes. “Aw shucks, Sweetness.”
“Jesus,” I groan. “I should have just let you think you were a repulsive asshole. That ego of yours doesn’t need any more stroking.”
“What was that? The only word I heard was stroking.”
“Shut your pie hole, Gamble.”
We both laugh, the tension in the room floating away as he steps closer. I can never stay mad at him. “I can think of a lot of worse things than being married to my best friend,” he murmurs.
I nod because he’s not wrong. Still…
“You know I can’t settle for less than the whole package, Dally.” I give the hem of his shirt a tug. “I need a man to sweep me off my feet. To be out of his mind in love with me. To surprise me with flowers just because, and whisk me away on romantic getaways. I want to find love letters in unexpected places, and I want him to hold my hand when we walk down the sidewalk.”
It’s not hard to warm up to the subject, and Dallas can’t be surprised in the least. “He’ll take me apple picking with a ladder and everything and even pack us a picnic. He’ll make me a playlist of songs that remind him of us and take me to a musical even though he doesn’t like them, but he knows I do. And he’ll always look at me like he can’t believe he ever got so lucky.” My smile is wistful, but only until Dallas opens his mouth.
“So, you want a cheesy lovesick eunuch. Got it.”
I scowl and smack his pec. “Don’t be rude. I want what my parents had.” He knows this. “Their love story was cut short, but it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. It’s worth the wait.”
“Shelby, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but this guy you’re looking for doesn’t exist outside of a romance novel.”
“Hedoes. I just haven’t met him yet.” I fist his shirt, trying to drive my point home. “They used to dance in the kitchen to cheesy love songs, Dally. You saw it. They only ever had eyes for each other. It exists. You and I both know it does.”
“No guy can live up to this standard you’re setting. We’ve been here before.” He sends me a pointed look, and I know he’s referring to Marcus, another of my exes. The one I really did think I was going to marry.
Marcus and I met at a veterinary science conference when I was in my late twenties, and we immediately hit it off. He was sweet, handsome, and so attentive. We slept together the last night of the conference, and it was the best sex of my life. Hecalled me from his car ten minutes after we parted, telling me he missed me already. I practically swooned.
The fly in the ointment was that he had a career in Virginia, and I lived here in Oklahoma. Still, we talked on the phone every night, even if it was just to say good night, and we flew back and forth whenever we could. He wrote me gorgeous handwritten love letters and sent me so many flowers I accumulated a massive vase collection. He flew out to surprise me for my birthday and whisked me away to New Orleans, where I’d never been but always wanted to go. We talked about the future and made plans for a life together. We both wanted two kids and a cozy small-town life.
Since I didn’t want to abandon my elderly grandparents and Marcus had no family in Virginia, he insisted that he move to Oklahoma so we could be together. It had been a year and a half of long distance, but our life was finally going to start.
Then he had a financial setback and needed to wait a little longer before leaving his job. A year after that, he turned down an offer for a job I found him at a vet clinic in Hornville, just thirty minutes from Big Knob. He said he didn’t click with the practice manager. Six months later, he renewed the lease on his apartment in Virginia, “just to be safe.”
The flowers had long stopped coming and so had the love letters. The nightly conversations turned to weekly and everything just…faded away.
