“You didn’t have to.”
Wren scowled at him. “I make you angry,” she said.
“You make me laugh.”
“I don’t have a college degree."
She’d tried to throw it in his face, so he threw right back. “And I don’t give a damn." Still, he didn’t miss the flash of self-doubt that crossed her eyes. How could she think a degree meant anything to him when he could think of nothing but chasing her?
“I don’t believe in love.”
Lee’s jaw fell.
Her self-doubt vanished, replaced with a look of cold certainty, and she seemed to enjoy shocking him.
“Yes, you do,” Lee countered. Out of everything she’d ever told him, this he liked the least.
“No, I don’t,” she said on a bitter laugh.
“You don’t believe in love? That’s like saying you don’t believe in blue.”
“Exactly.”
Lee frowned in confusion and pointed at the clear, blue sky. “What color is it?”
Wren smiled, but Lee sensed her condescension. “I could say that it’s blue, but a bumblebee would disagree. He’d see ultra-violet. He’d say we were both wrong, and all of humanity was wrong along with us.”
Lee blinked. She was right. And for a moment, his debate skills failed him.
“Are you saying that you don’t love Mamaw Gigi?”
Wren gasped like he’d slapped her. “Of course I love my mamaw!”
It was his turn to smirk. “Then how can you say you don’t believe in love? Don’t you believe that she loves you? That she loved you first?”
She frowned and shook her head. “I know she loves me. I’m talking about romantic love. That’s an illusion. Pheromones. As a man of science, you should know that.”
Lee burst out laughing. “You clearly have not been in enough delivery rooms.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
They’d been drifting on the water since their shared lunch, and the gentle current was pushing them toward some low branches. Lee reached for his paddle and maneuvered them out of harm’s way.
“Don’t get me wrong. As a man of science, I know biology and chemistry play a part, but love isn’t just sex and attraction,” he said, making sure he kept his eyes locked with hers. “Have you ever seen the look on a man’s face after his wife’s just given birth?”
Wren’s cheeks colored, and she shook her head. “No.”
Lee’s face warmed with a smile as he pictured the moment he’d witnessed at least a thousand times. “It’s a look you don’t forget,” Lee said. “After a man has watched his wife give birth to their child — whether it’s the first or the fourth — there’s always a moment when he looks at her with absolute wonder and joy. Because he’s reminded just how much he loves her. Their day-to-day problems — and, believe me, most of my patients have plenty — take a step back.”
Wren held his gaze and seemed to lean forward into his words.
Lee’s smile grew as he continued. “They share a look. There’s nothing sexual about it, and yet it’s also pretty damn sexy because the look brings them closer than even their bodies allow them to get, and their bond is renewed,” Lee said. “I swear, it happens every time.”
Wren gave him a side-eyed glance. “Yeah, but plenty of couples split up after they have kids.”
Lee shrugged. “I’m not denying that. Sometimes love dies — or it fails — but that doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”
She watched him for a long moment. “I’m not conceding anything.”