Can't Help Falling (Sweater Weather, #3)

by Courtney Walsh

Who am I kidding? I don’t go to parties. I wish someone would invite me to one so I could politely decline. I stay home and read. A lot. Pajamas > Party.

I want Mr. Darcy clenching his hand after helping Elizabeth into the carriage. Or Ryan Reynolds bursting into my workplace to profess his love for me after faking our engagement. Or Harry telling Sally that he wants the rest of their lives to start as soon as possible.

Out there, in the space where the yards of our childhood homes met, we weren’t “rotten apple” and “bookworm.” We were just two people with big feelings, trying to figure out who we were going to be.

I like who I am. I like spending my time the way I want to spend my time. I like my pajamas and my books.

I’ve always known he’s good-looking. Obnoxiously so. He won the genetic lottery, with Henry Cavill’s chin and Matt Bomer’s blue eyes.

The leaves have started to turn, and I’m struck by how the earth beautifully lets go of the things that need to be reborn.

It’s Owen, and I didn’t dream it, he’s not shirtless in some bamboo forest, he’s in my house. Wait. Is he shirtless? Stop it, Emmy.

He saved me from the fire. He organized the clean-up at my house. He walked me to my car. He danced with me between the shelves. He may not be a romantic, but aren’t those things romantic? And even if they aren’t, don’t they feel romantic because of the way I feel about him?

“Honey, he is speaking my language. Being thoughtful. Doing things that will show me he loves me. It doesn’t matter what the gesture is, if the intent behind it is to show someone you care, then it can be romantic.”

Again, I think of Owen. If he were going to profess his love for me, I think he could tell me in three words, and I’d turn into a melted marshmallow. Maybe it doesn’t need to be fancy or flowery or Jane Austen-esque. Maybe it just needs to be honest.

Owen Larrabee, the least romantic person I’ve ever known, is giving me the most romantic moment of my entire life.

“I think I might actually love you a little bit.”

“I thought we could look at stars and eat Twix bars and maybe kiss some more.”

Because love really does make fools of us all. And I’ll be happy to be a fool for Emmy for the rest of my life.