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Her shy smile erupted into an open-mouthed grin. “I haven’t slept yet and we only said goodbye like,” she glanced down at her watch, “two hours ago.”

With wide eyes Libby wanted to resist being a wet blanket, but her strong suggestions were in place for a reason. “I’m beyond pleased that you had such wonderful chemistry, but the reason I suggest waiting at least a month before becoming physically intimate is that the dopamine rush can cloud your—”

“Oh, we didn’t sleep together,” she interrupted, her face flushing with heat. “We talked, Libby. We talked so long that lunch turned into dinner,” Jennifer laughed, shaking her head as in disbelief. “And when the restaurant closed, we walked along the beach. Somehow, before we knew it, the sun was rising, and we were still there. Just sitting on some hotel beach chairs with our feet in the sand watching a new day dawn.”

Jennifer’s joy was a vibrant thing radiating o her like a contagious high. It took all of Libby’s self-control not to burst into happy tears as Jennifer filled her in on the myriad of conversations they had and how she’d never felt so comfortable in a person’s presence. It was so much that Libby ditched the notebook she usually used to record date notes and went for her consultation recorder.

“I take it you want to give it a few dates with Gale before I present you with another possible match?” Libby asked in jest. Considering she’d nearly had to scrape Jennifer o the ceiling, she didn’t really think she’d want to see who else was out there for her.

“I know you said I should meet a few people before I decide to go on a second date with anyone, but I really don’t want to waste my time. Meeting Gale and connecting with another human being at the heart level like this . . .” Jennifer wiped her eye, evaporating Libby’s self-control and sending them both reaching for tissues. “I’ve just wasted decades of my life and I don’t want to waste any more. I know enough about her to know that I want to see where this goes. If that’s okay?”

Libby dried her eyes and smiled. “You’re in the driver’s seat. It’s your heart you have to follow, and some rules are better broken. If that little voice inside your gut is telling you to do something, do it.”

Well after Jennifer had floated out of the consultation room and danced out of her o ce, Libby dropped onto the couch in her o ce and told the girls at the reception desk not to put any calls through.

Listening to their conversation on the recorder, Libby was struck with a glaring truth. Jennifer was happy not just at the prospect of finding someone special to share her life with; she’d also chosen love over fear and was bursting with pride at her own risk taking.

Settling back with her eyes closed, Libby confronted a fact she’d never acknowledged about herself. She’d never once done anything that wasn’t from a place of fear. Fear of being alone. Fear of failing. Fear of disappointing her family. The realization punched the air out of her lungs. How could she go her entire life searching for enlightenment and self-improvement and never notice?

Jumping to her feet, Libby didn’t take another second to think about it. She was going to do something dangerous and terrifying. For the first time she was going to do something in spite of her fear and not because of it.

C H A P T E R 2 5

IN THE SILENCE of her empty studio, Reagan sculpted the largest piece she’d ever attempted. Her back ached and her thighs burned as she squatted and stretched while shaping the wet clay. Every now and again she took a break to stare at the reference sketches she’d made instead of tossing and turning the night before.

Despite her best e orts not to think about Libby, her muse had forced her into creating a massive ceramic homage to her. It seemed that the more Libby stood elusive and out of reach, the more she longed to connect with her.

After a couple days together, Reagan was dying to know what Libby was thinking. She recalled some of the earlier conversations they’d had. Libby had always been pretty clear that there was no space in her life for a relationship, no room for a matchmaking dynasty and someone else.

As she added more clay to the mega-sculpture, Reagan couldn’t help but argue with herself. Busy hadn’t been the only signal she’d given. She’d seen something real between them too. They’d both felt it, right? The connection? The giddy and achy desire to be together? The atomic energy of the slightest touch? The kiss that Reagan couldn’t stop dreaming about. The gravity between them was undeniable.

Imani’s words haunted her. She so often saw too much of people’s potential and not what they were actually willing and able to deliver. As well-meaning as she was, it often ended in unmet expectations and self-induced heartache.

When Reagan’s eyes were too tired to focus, she covered the unfinished piece to keep it from drying out and started cleaning up. A hot shower and an early night were exactly what she needed.

Reagan was scrubbing beneath her nails when a thunderous knock against her heavy metal front door made her jump. She glanced at the big digital clock on the wall by the student work stations. Who the hell was banging on her door at eight o’clock?

Her mind went immediately to her landlord and she rolled her eyes. Tonight was not the night to deal with his bullshit.

Reagan dried her partially cleaned hands, leaving streaks of smeared clay behind on the towel.

At the second urgent knock, Reagan tightened her jaw. If he thought she was going to move her truck at this hour

just because he felt like it, he had another thing coming. By the time Reagan stomped toward the door, she was ready to tell him where to shove his lease and wish him luck in renting the space to someone else because she was done with his harassment.

Swinging the door open, ready to curse a blue streak, Reagan was stunned out of her building anger. “Libby, hey.

What are you doing here?” With her wavy hair blowing in the breezy night and her eyes dark in the dull, yellow light above the door, she was arresting. The unreadable expression in her face was unnerving. “Are you okay?”

“Can I come in?” she asked, so breathless Reagan wondered if she’d run there from downtown.

Reagan stepped back to get her inside as she scanned the parking lot for some pursuer. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” she blurted.

Reagan’s heart leapt into her throat. “Did someone do something to you, Lib? I don’t follow—”

“The other night when I said this wasn’t fake for me, that wasn’t the whole story,” she explained in such a rapid-fire speed she was nearly unintelligible. “I didn’t finish what I wanted to say.”