Free Without A Clue by Pamela Wilder Page B

so I think you need someone to tell you this. Maybe it’s not a priority for you to have a long term lover now, but you need to let people know that up front so we don’t get our hearts broken.”
     
    “I do have a problem settling down.” Maybe he needed to figure out why. He was successful, and he had a lot of love to give. What was holding him back? Not that Diane would have been the settling down type for him. Art gallery openings with smoked salmon were so not his scene.
     
    “I just wasn’t the right woman, Aden.” She leaned over the table to touch his hand. “I hope you find her. I really do. You’re a great guy.”
    “Thanks, Diane.” He looked at their hands, which appeared wrong. Her nails weren’t pink, like Amelia’s, and her skin was tanned, her rings big and obvious. She was smart and driven, not sweet and passionate and consumed with the drive to find knowledge. Aden missed Amelia so bad right then that he almost doubled over. God, he was an idiot. “I might have found her. What if I screwed that up? I was just as hot and cold as I was with you and everyone else who’s too good for me.”
     
    Diane laughed, but sobered quickly, staring right into his eyes. “Commit to fighting for her. Tell her. Sometimes you think it’s too late, but it isn’t.”
     
    The more he thought about her words, the more they made sense. Maybe he could go after Amelia one more time, and prove to her, and to himself, that he could do a relationship that wasn’t love ‘em and leave ‘em. He loved her. God, he loved Amelia, and he’d almost let his cowardice lose her.
     
    Aden had to get her back. She’d meant it when she’d broken it off with him, so she wouldn’t just agree to meet him if he called or showed up at the library.
     
    A plan began to take root in his mind, and Aden was glad he was a PI. He needed to do some digging, and be a little sneaky, but he thought he had a real scheme.
     
    “Thanks, Diane,” he finally said, realizing his ex was sitting there grinning at him, looking a little misty around the eyes. “Now, how about that fried chicken?”

Chapter Thirteen
     
    “Oh, Mandie, I don’t really want to go out.” Amelia wanted to go home and put her feet up. She’d put in an extra two hours helping Annie find a citation for some grad student’s dissertation, and her feet were killing her from filling in at the desk early in the afternoon. Now her friend Mandie had stopped by, wanting to head to the North End to have ravioli and cannoli.
     
    “Oh, come on, hon. I know I could order in, but I really want something authentic. Please?” Mandie could do guilt trips like crazy, and could spin an amazing story about why anyone should do what she wanted them to do.
     
    Must come with the territory of being a writer. Creative types could make you crazy.
     
    Amelia blew her hair out of her eyes. These days it seemed to defy every attempt to tame it. Maybe Amelia just needed to lop it all off. “Okay. Just supper, though. No cocktails, and no knitting at a coffee shop later.”
     
    “Yes, ma’am.” Mandie tugged her into a hug. “So glad to see you willing to get back out there and live a little.”
     
    She blew a raspberry. “Right. I’ve been a hermit, wasting away.”
     
    “No, but you’ve been down.” Marnie glanced sideways at her as they left the library. “What would you do if Aden Bourne showed up in your life today and begged forgiveness?”
     
    What an odd question. “I don’t know. I keep trying to decide if I just had these huge delusions, or if I meant anything to him at all.”
     
    “Oh, I think he’s totally into you. He’s just scared.”
     
    Amelia shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself to fend off the cold. “I don’t know. I guess I never will. I wanted more than he would ever be willing to give.”
     
    The tube rattled along, and Amelia dozed while Marnie knitted. She started when Marnie touched her arm. “This is