I once heard somewhere that if it’s not reciprocated, it’s not love. It’s lust.
And the possibility of that makes my heart shatter. If I’m as brave as I claim to be, I could ask him how he feels. I could tell him how I feel.
But before I do, I need to know.
Rose:What’s love like?
Willow:Uh-oh.
Rose:That bad?
Willow:It’s probably just the flu. When you coming home?
Rose:I don’t want to.
Willow:Still doesn’t mean you’re in love.
Rose:I painted us last week.
I attach a picture of my painting and send it to her.
Willow:Cute. Listen, I’m no expert, but I think you need more than great sex and the urge to paint the man.
Rose:He makes me feel like I’m worth something.
Willow:Rose?
Rose:I know .?.?. I should know what I’m worth with or without him.
Willow:I was going to say .?.?. let me know when he makes you feel like you’re wortheverything.
I think I know when it happened. That long weekend. No—the night he chose to stay another night. When he watched me paint. When he encouraged me to have a glass of wine so I could feel normal again. Enjoy the things I used to without feeling threatened by it.
I’m not silly enough to think he’d feel the same. He’s got a ranch to run. A heart to shield. A friendship to protect.
My heart sinks.
Because Willow has a point.
Wilder makes me feel like I mean something. Not everything.
And everything .?.?. would be a game-changer.
“I need more time with you.” Wilder’s husky voice is in my ear. We’re still under the covers. Still naked.
I groan, turning in to him, trying not to look too excited about what he might be asking.
“An entire day, naked in bed, more?” I tease.
He shakes his head. “More.”
I stroke the hair on his chest.
It’s Saturday afternoon. This will be my sixth and last week here. And so far, he hasn’t asked me to extend my stay.
Or anything more, for that matter.
I think he attempted to last Sunday when he came over after working on the field all day. He said he had something important to ask. He wasn’t expecting to find Dallas here withEllie watching a Disney movie.
