“Says who?”
“Everyone I know.”
“I’m not saying that,” he countered. “I’m saying the exact opposite of that.”
She huffed out a sigh of exasperation. “You know what I meant.”
“No, I really don’t. Who says it’s not going to last?”
“My family. My friends. Your parents.”
“I don’t give a shit what anyone else says—”
“It’s not what they literally say, it’s what’s happened in their lives. It’s right there for anyone to see, plain as day.”
“We aren’t them. This is about you and me, no one else. And I say we’ve got years and years ahead of us.”
“Because you’re a long-haul guy. That’s not me.”
She was back to avoiding his gaze, her voice sad and heartbroken. As if she wanted what she was convinced she couldn’t have. It illuminated the distinction of her saying she couldn’t do this, not that she didn’t want to do this.
“You can be. It’s all up to you and what you want.”
“It’s not a matter of what I want, it’s what is.”
The revelation in that sentence broke his heart. Hopeless.
“You want to know what is? Look at me.” When her green gaze rose to his, his heart damn near beat out of his chest. He squeezed her hand with a gentle smile. “I love you.”
Panic filled her expression. She yanked her hand free with a shake of her head. Stepping back out of his reach, she said, “You can’t love me.”
“But I do,” he said firmly. “With all my heart.”
“You can’t,” she repeated, her voice trembling like a frightened, cornered animal. “You’re supposed to be on guy-time.”
“What the hell is guy-time?”
Tears filled her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You’ve known from the beginning where I stood on all this.”
“You mean how you’ve felt about love?”
She nodded.
“Funny thing about that, you’ve never actually said it.” She took a breath to speak, but he held up his hand. “There was the whole hypothetical conversation early on, but never once have you said out loud to me that you don’t believe in love.”
Her brows dipped, her expression uncertain.
“My theory is, it’s not that you don’t believe in love. You just haven’t known what it was until now—what it is. You haven’t seen it and experienced it for yourself. But now that you have, don’t you see you don’t have to be afraid?”
“I’m not afraid,” she argued. “I’m realistic. Nothing lasts. Things get screwed up and then it’s over.”
“Not always.”
“Almost always.”
He tilted his head slightly to try a different angle. “Hasn’t this felt different for you? At the beginning, I had to fight what I felt for you because I thought you were engaged. And once I found out you weren’t, denying what’s between us was as impossible as not breathing. I’ve never had that with anyone before you.”
Her wide gaze met his, and he swore he saw a flicker of the hope that had been missing before. But when he moved toward her, her expression closed off, and she backed up.