Because you don't love me and it's too bard to stay. "Ted and I are going to go play pool and catch up on what's been happening since Christmas."
He'd unbuttoned his jacket, and he shoved his hands in the front pockets of his pants. "Are you planning to tell him about us?"
She shook her head. "There's nothing to tell."
"There could be."
It was so tempting, even now, to believe that. But it was an illusion. A fantasy. "I knew when I got involved with you that I would end up hurt. I should never have told myself that I could handle it. I couldn't and I can't. It's over, Rob."
He rocked back on his heels and rubbed one hand across his chin and mouth. "The thing is, I think I might be in love with you."
Might? She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't. He looked at her as if he expected something from her. It was just too painful, and she turned to walk away before she could give in to the tears stinging the backs of her eyes.
His grasp on her arm stopped her. "I tell you that I think I love you and you walk away?"
"Either you love someone or you don't. Thinking you might be in love is not the same as being in love. It's not enough."
His gaze narrowed. "And a piece of paper and ring are going to ensure that I do love you enough?"
"No, but they're the first step to spending your life with the person you love."
He held up his hands. "Have you seen the divorce rate lately?" he asked incredulously as he lowered his arms. "You can bet every damn one of those couples thought they'd spend the rest of their lives loving each other."
"Keep your voice down. You're at your mother's wedding, for God's sake." She folded her arms across her chest, across her heart. "I happen to think your mother and my grandfather will be happy and stay married to each other."
"Yeah, but they're still only one out of sixty. Since you love statistics so much, I think you'd know that one."
Actually, it was 50 percent. "I don't care about statistics. I care about me. Finally. I care enough about me to never settle for less than I deserve."
"You think you deserve marriage?" he asked, but he had lowered his voice. "Babe, no one deserves that slice of hell on earth."
"I still want it. I want to try with someone who loves me enough to try with me. I want to grow old looking at the same face every morning. I want to grow old looking at the same face every night at the dinner table. I want to be one of those old couples you see still holding hands and laughing after fifty years of marriage. That's what I want. I want to be someone's forever."
"So that's it. I either marry you or you walk out of my life? Just like that? That easy?"
No, it wasn't easy. Breaking up with Rob Sutter was breaking her heart, but it would be so much worse if she let it go on.
"Marriage is just a piece of paper," he scoffed.
"If you believe that, no wonder your marriage to Louisa ended in disaster."
Rob watched Kate walk away, and he felt his jaws clinch. He'd just told her he might be in love with her, and she'd thrown it right back in his face.
He turned, and his gaze landed on Dillon Taber and his wife, Hope, standing a few feet away under the shade of a tree. Dillon turned his face toward his wife and pressed his forehead to Hope's temple. He said something that made her kiss him. A quick peck that had the sheriff sliding his hand down his wife's back to the curve of her behind. A familiar touch between two people who knew each other intimately.
That's what Kate wanted, and if Rob were honest with himself, that's what he wanted too. But at what price? A piece of paper and a gold ring? Those things didn't make people stay in love.
Rob reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. He found his mother and Stanley and told them good-bye. He didn't feel like talking to anyone. He had too much on his mind.
He went home and fell into his usual routine of tying flies to take his mind off his troubles with Kate. It didn't work, and after he closed the store the next day, he grabbed his fishing rod and headed to the Big Wood.
The early evening sun turned the clouds orange and vibrant purple. He pulled his waders and vest over his T-shirt and headed into the river. The solace and comfort he usually found in the steady rhythm of stripping and casting his fly eluded him. The peace of mind he always found out in the open with nothing but the sound of the river and occasional dove evaded his grasp.
He thought about what Kate had said yesterday at the wedding. She thought marriage meant that people would love each other forever and never be lonely. He loved Kate. He didn't just think he did. He knew it down to the bottom of his soul, but there were worse things than being lonely.
He cast his nymph downstream on the edge of a deep pool. The fly drifted a few feet, and within seconds he felt the nibble and tug at the end of his line. He pulled the rod tip up and reeled in the excess. His rod bowed in half, and he knew he had a big fish on his hook. It shook and rebelled, then it took off downriver and gave him one hell of a fight.
Fifteen minutes after it began, the fight was over and a sixteen-inch rainbow flipped its tail against Rob's waders. He lifted the big fish from the water and admired the colors.