Once Upon a Bride

She looked at him. “Well, maybe not my life. My job, at least.”

He heard hesitation in her voice. “But?”

Her shoulders dropped. “Oh, you know, pretending the fairy tale exists on a day-in-and-day-out basis can be monotonous.” She shook herself and picked up the cutlery again. “Sorry, I don’t normally complain about it. But you’re...” She stopped and looked at him. “Even though a week ago I was convinced you were simply another ridiculously handsome but conceited jerk, you’re surprisingly...easy to talk to.”

A good bedside manner is essential....

How many times had he heard that?

Gabe shook off the guilt between his shoulder blades. “Oh, I can be just as much of a jerk as the next guy.”

She laughed, and the sound echoed around the room. “Well, thanks for the warning.”

He placed his elbows on the table. “Don’t thank me. I said I wouldn’t make a pass. I didn’t say it would be easy.”

Her cheeks bloomed with color. “Oh, because I’m—”

“Because you’re Commitment 101.”

“And you’re not?” she queried.

“Exactly.”

“Have you ever been tempted? Or close?” she asked and pushed her barely eaten meal aside.

“Once,” he replied and took a drink. “It didn’t work out.”

She stared at him, as if she was trying to figure out why. But she never would. He didn’t talk about it. Ever. She took a second, swallowed hard and then spoke. “Did you love her?”

“It didn’t work out,” he said again, a whole lot quicker than he would have liked. “I guess there’s your answer.”

Her brows arched. “So you didn’t love her? Not even a little bit?”

Gabe’s mouth twisted. “I didn’t realize there was such a thing as being a little bit in love. I cared for her, sure. But like I said, we didn’t work out. There’s no great mystery to it.”

He wasn’t about to tell Lauren that she was right—he hadn’t really loved his ex-girlfriend. He’d done her a favor by letting her go. He was sure of it. And besides, Mona hadn’t put up much resistance. Once she’d known she had an out clause, she’d left their relationship as quickly as she could.

Lauren bit her bottom lip, watching him. “So you got burned?”

He shrugged. “Not exactly.”

“Then what, exactly?” she asked.

“We split up,” he replied. “We went our separate ways. Neither of us was heartbroken.”

“Which leaves you where?” Her eyes were full of questions. “Working at the surf club and having casual relationships and sex with women who are equally uninterested in commitment?”

“Ah...I suppose.”

“Well, that sounds...like fun.”

Not.

That was what she was thinking. Shallow and meaningless and hollow. Gabe thought so, too...even though he’d drilled himself to accept his present and future. But he suddenly lost his appetite.

“It is what it is,” he said, and pushed back in his seat. “I’m not looking for...anything.”

She watched him, her brown eyes darkening. “I’ve always believed that we’re all looking for something...love or sex, belonging, companionship. Or maybe something more complicated, like peace of mind...or even isolation.”

Which one are you looking for?

That was the question in her words. Gabe shrugged a shoulder casually. She was so close to the truth. “Is that why your marriage didn’t work out?” he asked, shifting the focus back to her. “Because you wanted different things?”

She gripped her wineglass. “My marriage failed because my husband and I had nothing between us but fleeting physical attraction. Which isn’t enough,” she added.

It explained why she wanted a passionless relationship...sort of. “And now you’re looking for more?” he asked. “Or maybe less?”

“Sometimes less is more,” she replied. “Which is why I’m determined to think with my head next time...and not my—” she paused, smiling “—libido.”

Gabe tensed. Thinking of her libido didn’t do his any favors. “Or your heart?”

She smiled. “Precisely,” she said.

He remembered what his cousin had said to him the night before. She’d lost someone. She’d lost love and settled for sex. The fact that she now wanted a middle road made perfect sense. “Someone did get it, though?”

Her gaze was unwavering. “You mean my heart? Yes. Someone did.”

“Who was he?”

Silence stretched between them. He shouldn’t have asked. He shouldn’t want to know. The more he knew, the harder it would be to stay away from her.

“My first love. My only love, I guess.”

She said the words so quietly and with such raw honesty, his insides contracted. He didn’t want to hear any more. “You don’t have to—”

“His name was Tim,” she said, cutting him off. “We met in college. I was nineteen and studying business. He was across the hall in engineering. We fell in love. A few years later we got engaged. And then...”

Gabe knew what was coming, but he asked anyway. “And then, what?”

She drew in a sharp breath. “And then he died.”

“Was it an accident?”

She shook her head. “No. He was sick.”

Sick...

Gabe’s stomach churned uneasily, and he forced the next words out. “What kind of illness did he have?”