Page 138 of You've Got Hate Mail
He hasn’t.
But he also didn’t answer me when I asked if he was offering to take me into town himself.
“Asking a man on a date isn’t crossing a boundary,” Ginny says. “Ignoring him when he says no would be crossing a boundary.”
I drop my voice even lower. “It’s not like we’d get married. It would be a fling, and that would make things weird for Lav if she ever found out.”
“He’ll likely jump back into the dating pool again sometime.”
I barely manage to stop myself before I make a face.
The idea of Heath dating—yeah.
Yeah, that hurts.
I don’t want him to date.
Not if he’s not dating me.
And that’s not fair.
“Single parents date all the time,” she adds. “Lav’s lucky. She has a really great dad, and she has all of us for support too. Whatever happens, with whoever it happens with, she’ll have plenty of people to talk to and help her through it.”
“Why are you encouraging me?”
“Because love’s special. What we have here? Our little post-viral commune? This is one of those special kinds of love. But romantic love? That’s special too. Don’t deny yourself a chance to be happy every way you can be happy just because you’re scared. That—it doesn’t end well.” She gives me a wry smile and points to her mouth. “Even if you don’t try to get it back at the very worst time and the very worst way possible.”
“You still love him?” I whisper.
She wrinkles her nose. “No, but even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. He found someone who made him happy, and that’s as it should be. I had my chance. I blew it. And being here—this is better. IknowI’m loved here. IknowI belong here. Don’t make the same mistake I did and let fear and insecurities keep you from what could be the most beautiful thing in your life. Heath’s a really, really great guy, Cricket. The best. And he likes you. Trust me, I’ve seen plenty of women notice him. But I’ve never seen him notice them back. Not the way he notices you.”
I shake my head. “It’s not me. I’m not special.”
“We’re all special in our own ways. And he likes your brand of special.”
“He just likes that I’m not punching him in greeting anymore,” I joke.
Ginny doesn’t laugh. “He likes you, Cricket. And you have all of our blessings to do something about it. But only if you want to.”
I want to so badly that I have to suppress a shiver. “If he—if he doesn’t really like me, I’d be so embarrassed I’d want to go live in the barrel cellar and never come out again,” I whisper.
She squeezes my hand. “Bet you kitchen duty for a week that he asks you out before next weekend’s over.”
I wrinkle my nose.
“Don’t like kitchen duty?” she teases.
“I should do your kitchen duty anyway out of gratitude.”
She waves a hand like she’s waving away my comment. “You’ve already covered for me plenty. Just be happy and learn all you can about managing the fields while we pretend we’ll find a miracle to save us here, yeah?”
“We’ll find a miracle,” I say.
I need to say it.
I need to believe it.
And I need to help make it happen.
