Stone Cold

by Winter Renshaw

If someone doesn’t have a heart you can’t go around offering them yours —Rupi Kaur, Home Body

Let’s go back to square one… have you ever been in love?” “Once,” I say without hesitation. Jovie’s brows arch, and her face turns crestfallen for half of a moment. “Good for you,” she says. “Is she still in the picture?” I’m looking at her …

She doesn’t deserve to be punished for falling in love again. And she won’t be. Not on my watch.

“Nostalgia is a beautiful liar,” I say before leaving. “Take care, Jude.”

“Nostalgia is a beautiful liar,” I say. “It lets us paint the past any way we want to.”

People fall in love with the idea of marriage or the idea of what a marriage should be instead of falling in love with the flawed human being they’re marrying.”

“Call me crazy, but I still believe in finding that one person and spending my life with them. I love the idea of sharing my life with another person, knowing their nuances and idiosyncrasies, having little inside jokes, traveling the world together, making our own traditions and building a life all our own. People say life is short, but I disagree. I think life is long.”

“For years, I stood back while another man kissed her. Another man told her all the things I wanted to say to her. Another man held her in his arms,” Stone says. “Only to throw her away when he was done with her.”

“You should’ve been mine,” he whispers against my ear, sending a spray of goose bumps down my arm. “I … I wanted you too …” I manage, breathless and hot. “I just … I was afraid to admit it—and I thought you hated me.” He stops cold, his body freezing against mine as our eyes hold again. “I never hated you, Jovie,” he says. “I was in love with you.”

“I know this isn’t some love story out of one of your books,” he says, “and I can’t promise you that any of this will be predictable, ever, but Jovie, I’ve been in love with you for over eight years. And I promise you, I’ll love you the way you deserve to be loved—the way you always should have been loved.”

“Jovie Annabeth Vincent,” I say, “You’re the love of my life. My blue sky. My lighthouse. You’re my personal plot twist and the song that’s been stuck in my head for the past ten years. I want to spend the rest of my life falling asleep with you in my arms and waking up to your blaring podcasts as you take your hour-long showers and use all the hot water.”