Practice Makes Perfect (When in Rome, #2)(76)

Ugh! No, Annie, stop thinking about Will!

Brandon laughs a nice low laugh. “Oh, they are. And they’re very eager for me to start adding some to the list as well. Which, I don’t mind because I’m eager to start a family too,” he says with an easy smile while looking out over the field. Not at all embarrassed that he just implied we’d get right to baby making if we work out. Funny how men can get away with saying things like that on a date and it’s endearing, but when I did, I got left ten minutes into the date.

I suddenly jump when Brandon claps and yells, “Let’s go, Hunter!”

He turns his face to me, and his smile only widens. It’s such a nice smile I wait for my stomach to flip. Go on, stomach, flip. Fine, a little roll then? Can I at least get a flutter? Listen…I’d settle for a twitch.

Nothing. Dang it.

Oh, well. Not a problem. Long-term loving relationships are built on more than just flutters and stomach flips anyway, right? So even if I don’t feel them now, it’s totally fine. Tons of time for flipping later down the road. What I’m looking for is a partner. Not a roller coaster.

If only I hadn’t just experienced a big stomach flip this morning, maybe this would be easier. Not only did Will make out with me until my bones felt like mush, but…he told me he has feelings for me. Feelings. And I told him that I have feelings for him. And now here I am on a date with someone else. It feels so wrong and backward and upside down. When two people declare their feelings, they get together, right?! That’s how it happens. But of course I would fall for a man who doesn’t believe in marriage. Who doesn’t want a family. Who wants to remain as wild and free as a bird.

I knew I’d get feelings for him from the beginning, though, didn’t I? I think something in me has known I was capable of loving him since the second I laid eyes on him.

But I would never in my wildest dreams want to try to change Will, and he doesn’t want to try to change me. Neither one of us wants to ask the other to sacrifice anything. So our only options are to move on.

Digging into my mind for dating advice from He Who Shall Not Be Thought Of, I pull out a piece of memorized conversation. “So, Brandon…would you rather skydive or read a book?”

“Oh—good question.” He makes a thinking noise and narrows one eye. “Read a book.”

Ding, ding, ding. Right answer! See stomach? This guy just keeps getting better and better.

I angle excitedly toward him. “Me too! I love to read. What’s your favorite genre?”

“Pretty much anything,” he says, and then adds, “Well, not true. Anything besides romance.”

Oh no.

I chuckle lightly to cover my despair. “Why not romance?”

He gives me a come-on look. “Because the whole genre just seems messed up. First, it sets unrealistic standards that no one can obtain, and, second, it’s just…fluff. I’d rather read something that actually has substance, you know?”

Cue my internal crisis:

He hates romance.

But he loves his family!

But he just belittled an entire genre that I adore by calling it fluff.

But I’ve hidden my romance-loving ways for my entire adult life. What are a few more years?

Will’s voice adds to the chaos in my head from when he read the romance book I gave him. It was sexy as hell. And there were a lot of profound moments too. Felt like free therapy. Ugh. That’s not fair, though. I shouldn’t compare Brandon and Will. They’re two completely different men. As in…Brandon is turning out nothing like Will.

However, that thought is irrelevant because Will is leaving, and he doesn’t plan to look back.

“What about you?” he asks. “What kind of books do you like to read?”

The sun seems to grow eight times hotter, if that’s even possible. If you listen closely you can hear the sound of my sweat dripping down the back of my neck. “Oh, me? Well…I actually—”

Two figures suddenly catch the corner of my eye, trying to hop up onto the bleachers from the side, several rows behind us. Oh my gosh…this cannot be happening. What are they doing here?

“What’s wrong?” Brandon asks, about to turn his head to look at the path of Will and Amelia, wearing baseball hats, sunglasses, and…is Amelia wearing a fake mustache?

I grab Brandon’s jaw and tug it back in my direction. His eyes widen as I pretend to knock an imaginary bug from his jaw. “It was a bee. Didn’t want you to get stung.”

“A bee?” he asks, immediately standing. “I’m very allergic to bees.” He’s looking everywhere for the bee. Now I feel terrible.

“Oh—don’t worry. It’s gone! It flew under the bleachers.”

“This one? Okay, we need to move, then, in case it has a nest. You okay if we scoot up a few rows?”

I cast a quick glance up and the only available seats are right next to Tweedle Nosy and Tweedle Mustache. Seriously, who does Amelia think she’s fooling wearing a mustache? And it’s not even stuck on that well. And Will…well, he’s dressed normally and looks absolutely delicious in that hat, and that’s why I can’t sit by him.

“Oh, I don’t think we need to. I’m sure the bee is—”

“I’m sorry, I know I seem overly paranoid here, but the thing is, I’d rather not have to use my Epi-Pen today if I don’t have to.”