I’m In No Mood For Love

Sebastian walked into the carriage house feeling as if he’d been blind-sided with a two-by- four. What the hell had just happened? One moment everything had been just fine, and then Clare had started talking about feelings and commitment and love. Where had all that come from? One moment he’d been thinking about how great everything was between them, and in the next, she said she didn’t want to see him anymore.

“What the fuck?”

His father turned from where he stood looking out the window at the Wingate backyard. “What was that about?”

Sebastian set the Brookstone sack on the sofa. “I got you a massager for your back.”

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.”

Leo turned from the window. “Why is Clare upset?”

He looked into his father’s eyes and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I might be old, but I’m not senile. I know that you two have been seeing each other.”

“Well, it’s over.” Even though he said it, he still couldn’t wrap his brain around it.

“She’s such a nice sweet girl. I hate to see her upset.”

“That’s bullshit! She’s not a nice sweet girl,” he exploded. “I’m your son, and it doesn’t seem to matter to you at all that I might be ‘upset.’”

Leo’s bushy brows lowered. “Of course it matters. I just thought you were the one to…put an end to things.”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Sebastian sat on the couch and covered his face with his hands when what he really felt like doing was ramming his head through a wall. “Everything was great, perfect, and then just like a woman, she had to fuck it up.”

Leo removed the paper sack and sat beside him. “What happened?”

Sebastian dropped his hand to his lap. “I wish I knew. We were having a good time. Then she sees her old boyfriend, and the next thing I know, she’s telling me she wants more.” He took a deep breath and let it out. He still absolutely could not believe what had just happened. “She told me that she loves me.”

“What did you say?”

“I don’t know. It was a real shock and just hit me right out of nowhere.” He turned and looked at his father and realized that this was only the second time the two of them were talking about something besides fishing and cars and the weather. The first time since he’d dropped the globe at his mother’s house. He frowned. “I think I said that I like her.” Which was true. He liked her more than any woman he could recall being with.

“Ouch.” Leo winced.

“What’s wrong with that? I do like her.” He liked everything about her. He liked to put his hand in the small of her back when they walked into a room. He liked the smell of her neck and the sound of her laugher. He even liked that everyone thought she was a sweet girl and he alone knew her wicked thoughts. And what did he get for liking her? She’d kicked him in the chest.

“I’m afraid your mother and I weren’t very good examples of love and marriage and relationships.”

“That’s true.” But as much as he’d like to blame his life on his parents, he was almost thirty-six, and there was something pathetic about a man his age blaming his commitment problems on his mother and father. Commitment problems? Women in his past had told him he had commitment problems, but he’d never thought it was true. He’d never thought he had a problem committing to anything. It took a lot of dedication and commitment to chase down stories and get them in print. But of course that wasn’t the same thing. Women were a hell of a lot tougher to figure out.

“I thought I made her happy,” he said, and felt a weight settle in his chest. “Why couldn’t she just leave it alone? Why do women have to change things?”

“Because they’re women. That’s what they do.” Leo shrugged his shoulders. “I’m an old man and I’ve never figured them out.”

The doorbell rang, and Leo’s knee cracked as he carefully pushed himself off the couch. “I’ll be right back.” He moved across the living room and opened the front door. Joyce’s voice filled the entry of the carriage house.

“Claresta called a cab, then ran out the front door. Did something happen that I should know about?”

Leo shook his head. “Not that I know of.”

“Did something happen between Clare and Sebastian?”

Sebastian half expected his father to spill the sordid details, and that he’d once again be banished from Joyce Land.

“I wouldn’t know,” Leo said. “But if it did, the two kids are adults and they’ll work it out.”

“I just don’t think I can have Sebastian upsetting her.”

“Did Clare tell you Sebastian upset her?”

“No, but she never tells me what’s going on in her life.”

“I don’t have anything to tell you either.”

Joyce sighed. “Well, if you hear anything, let me know.”

“Will do.”

Sebastian stood as his father reentered the room. He felt restless, like he was going to come apart. He had to get out of there. He had to put distance between himself and Clare. “I’m going home,” he said.

Surprise stopped Leo in his tracks. “Now?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s kind of late to set out for Seattle. Why don’t you wait until morning?”

Sebastian shook his head. “If I get tired, I’ll stop.” But he sincerely doubted he’d get tired. He was too pissed off. He’d only unloaded one duffel from his car, and now he walked into his bedroom and grabbed it. Within twenty minutes he was headed north on I-84.

He drove straight through. Six and a half hours of nothing but asphalt and anger. She said she loved him. Well, that had been news to him. The last time he’d checked, she wanted to be friends. In January she’d specifically told him that if he wanted to see other women, to just let her know. Like she’d be real cool with that. The funny thing was, he hadn’t even considered it. Not once. Now all of a sudden she wanted more.

She loved him. Love. Love came with strings. It was never just given. There were always things attached to love. Commitment. Expectations. Change.

For some six and a half hours he went around and around, over and over and every other which way in his head. Thoughts tumbled and fell, and by the time he walked into his condo, he was exhausted. He fell into bed and slept for twelve hours. When he woke, he was no longer tired, but he was still angry.

He threw on a pair of sweat pants and worked out on the weight machine in his spare bedroom. He burned off some of the angry energy but couldn’t exercise Clare out of his head. After taking a shower, he went into his office and turned on his computer in an attempt to fill his mind with work. Instead he recalled the time she’d come into his office wearing that blue nightgown.

After an hour of futile typing, Sebastian called a few buddies and met them at a bar not far from his condo. They drank beer, shot pool, and talked baseball. Several women in the bar flirted with him, but he wasn’t interested. He was pissed off at all women in general, and smart, attractive women on principle.

He’d been shitty company, had a shitty time, and had behaved like an overall shithead. His life was shit, and it was all the fault of a certain romance writer who believed in love and heroes and happily ever after.

Over the course of the next week, Sebastian went out very little. Just to the grocery store to buy some bread, sandwich meat, and beer. When his father called, they talked about everything but Clare. By tacit agreement, they avoided the subject of his employer’s daughter. But that did not mean he wasn’t thinking of her every waking moment.

Nine days after he’d jumped in his SUV and driven-insane and angry-from Boise to Seattle, he stood in his living room looking out at the ships and ferries in Elliott Bay. He didn’t like personal change. Especially when he didn’t see it coming and couldn’t seem to do anything about it. Change felt helpless. It meant starting over.

He thought of Clare and the night he’d found her on a bar stool in a pink fluffy dress. That night he’d put her to bed, and in the morning his life had been changed. He hadn’t known it at the time, but she’d come into his life and