After Lizbeth left, I shuffled through my gear half-heartedly, my mind far away. A yellow notepad lay next to me. Quiet reigned over the office, but it wasn’t as deeply refreshing as usual. Normally, I yearned for some distance from Mark’s prattle. He was always making some kind of noise, as if he couldn’t stand the quiet.
I pulled a pen out of my hair and scribbled a few notes. Thoughts of Lizbeth and her deep loyalty to romance kept intruding on my thoughts.
Who seriously believed that?
And owned it?
Maybe she just equated safety with romance. I’d bet half my ropes that the moment she had any experience with heartbreak, her mind would change. Anyone with real-world know-how would be far more jaded. Or at least less . . .
Idealistic.
With a growl, I pitched the pen to the floor. It landed on the notepad with a thud. I leaned back, let out a long breath, and rubbed my hands over my eyes. This shouldn’t bother me so much, but it did. The thought of her figuring out the dark side of romance—like I had—set my teeth on edge. I didn’t even know her, not really, but I still didn’t want that for her. She deserved better.
Crimson hair, soft as silk, flashed through my mind.
Why couldn’t I just focus?
Daylight waned outside. My stomach growled, reminding me that I’d forgotten to eat lunch. There were a lot of things I hadn’t done yet. Boredom had a way of doing that. The utter lack of direction in my life used to be thrilling. When we had ten different countries to hike through and no return ticket.
But now?
Now, I couldn’t peg it. Something restless had awoken inside me. Like a slow gnaw from the inside out.
My brain wandered back to Lizbeth’s declaration. A thousand romance books. Who had the time for that?
Or the space?
“Bro!” Mark barked up the ladder. “I stopped by the bank. I think we could make this spa idea happen.”
A deep sigh rippled through me. That didn’t feel any more exciting, of course. Another business. Another tangled mess. Another volley of ideas. Even that was better than staring at the ceiling, trying not to catalogue all the ways Lizbeth was wrong about romance. Why did I have to prove it to her, anyway?
Why couldn’t I just let her believe it?
“Coming!” I stood up. Because it was time to forget Lizbeth and let her live her life. Maybe she would find her romance and live happily ever after.
I wished her luck.