“Well, we’re not plants.”
He frowned at me. “Okay, what about swans? They mate for life.”
“They also fly.”
He stared at me like I was insane. “So—you don’t believe relationships last past four years?”
I toyed with the grass. “Of course they do. I just don’t think we’re biologically meant for life-long monogamy.”
“My parents had the best relationship in the world.”
I shrugged as best I could from my prone position. “I’m not trying to argue. And I don’t expect you to agree with me.”
He looked offended. “But you think I’m being naïve.”
That was awkwardly uncomfortable enough that I sat upright and cleared my throat. “I don’t think you’re naïve. And I’m not anti-relationship. I actually think it’s a very—nice—idea, but it’s also encultured. I mean, I’m not surprised you believe in it—your community is very, uh, conservative, with traditional values—”
“Nat. You’re being offensive.”
“I’m not trying to be offensive, I’m just saying, I studied anthropology—”
“Which is not a golden ticket to judge people.”
“I’m not judging! I just—I’m trying to point out that you have a bias—which is normal, everyone has biases, it’s part of being human—but it’s important to recognize your bias and understand when it comes into play—”
He stood. “Well, maybe part of your bias is that your parents have an unhappy marriage so you don’t believe there could actually be happy ones.”
“Below the belt.”
His gaze dropped below the belt, and I flushed when he raised his eyes again, hot and steady. I cleared my throat and looked away. “And, okay, probably a valid point.”
“So do yo
u also not believe in love?”
I shrugged, wishing we’d never started this conversation. “I believe in oxytocin and vasopressin. I believe in attraction and attachment.”
“But you don’t believe in forever.”
I also came to my feet. The wind played with his hair and pulled tendrils of mine loose. “I believe in having a solid enough partnership that you stay with it because it’s better than being lonely and you want to be part of a solid family unit.”
“Because it’s better than being fucking lonely?”
“Mike, don’t take me out of context—”
“I don’t think I am. You don’t believe in love.”
“I think people fall in love, I just don’t think it sticks. Why do you care? This should not be such a big deal.”
He massaged his shoulder like he’d filled with too much tension. “I think it’s sad.”
I prepped myself to run. “Well, maybe I’m sad, then. Let’s head back.”
Chapter Eleven
I didn’t see Mike again until early evening the next day, after I’d returned from meeting up with a historian in Cork. The woman had been very informative and interesting, and while she’d given me several new insights into the county’s history, I wasn’t sure it would be directly helpful for learning more about Ivernis.
I ran into Mike when I was heading up to my room—or more accurately, he ran into me, stepping out of the library as I passed. I halted, worried that he might still be mad at me from the night before. Instead, he grinned at me. “Gibbons.”