When in Rome (When in Rome, #1)

by Sarah Adams

It’s not infatuation. Not even lust. It’s the worst of all the feelings…care. Care is reckless because it doesn’t come with the seat belt that selfishness offers. Care has so much to lose, and almost always ends in heartbreak.

Sometimes a woman is just worn out and needs a break, you know?” The lines on her forehead deepen. “That doesn’t prove that you’re weak or neglectful, it proves to all the women standing by and watching you pave the road to success that it’s okay to say no. It’s okay to shut your door every now and then and put up a sign that says Busy taking care of me today. Piss off.”

“Something you need to know about me,” he begins in a softer tone than I’ve heard him use yet. “I’m not talkative.” I give a mock gasp of surprise, which makes him grin. “And I don’t like talking about personal stuff when I’m not prepared for it. Sometimes I need a minute to process when I’m caught off guard. But if I’m actually mad, I’ll tell you. I don’t believe in the silent treatment when it comes to stuff like that.”

I hate casual. It’s pointless to me. Like city girls wearing Carhartt beanies.

“That must be hard,” Noah says without accusation or shock. He doesn’t even offer advice or throw a pile of shoulds on me. Doesn’t even seem to expect me to come to any conclusion right now. I just get to say what I feel, and if that’s not freedom, I don’t know what is.