Love Rents A Room
Chapter 45: Is "Spark" Necessary For A Good Marriage?

Chapter 45: Is "Spark" Necessary For A Good Marriage?

Joanne narrowed her eyes, suspicion creeping in.

"So... did he finally ask you out? Are you starting to feel comfortable around him?" she teased. She might not always act like it, but deep down, she was still a woman—and she loved to gossip.

Veronica’s eyes flashed. "It’s not about me! I’m mad at you!"

Joanne blinked. "Me? What did I do?" She leaned forward, all seriousness now. "Tell me how I can fix it." She meant it. Veronica was rarely wrong about things.

Veronica’s glare intensified. "Our company website looks like... crap!" She hesitated slightly, as if she wasn’t used to cussing. "...Because you won’t put your picture on it!"

Joanne sighed in relief and leaned back in her chair. "That’s it?"

Veronica shot her another glare, and Joanne quickly surrendered. "Alright, alright! I’ll get a new picture taken and have it uploaded by this weekend. Happy now?"

Veronica’s face lit up, and she nodded, satisfied. "Yes." Then, as if they had never gotten off track, she continued, "The gold bonds have increased in value, and they’re projected to go up again this month. But... what happened to your plan to return the money?"

Joanne sighed, rubbing her temples. "I am thinking about it... I just—I can’t visit him at his home. I’m drafting an email asking to meet somewhere else..."

Veronica chuckled knowingly. "Now you understand my struggle."

Joanne scoffed. "Only when it comes to a Winchester." The very thought of meeting him made her stomach twist. All she wanted was to return the money—so why did it feel like such a monumental task? She had grown so pathetic.

Veronica tilted her head. "Also..."

Joanne braced herself.

"You can’t be comfortable around your crush. It’s not scientifically possible. Once you fall in love, your brain releases dopamine, overstimulating neural activity; the amygdala triggers a fight-or-flight response, causing anxiety and an increased heartbeat; adrenaline kicks in, making you hyper-aware of how you’re perceived by them—"

"Alright, alright!" Joanne waved a hand. "Enough with your science lessons..." She exhaled heavily.

So, there was frigging science behind why she was acting like this around JD?

After that night, she had been avoiding JD as much as possible. Poor guy is probably wondering what he did wrong... But she needed to do this.

Instead, she had gone on two more dates with Jonathan. Comfortable was the word for it. They talked easily, shared similar interests, and he had even taught her a few business techniques he’d learned through experience.

So what if they hadn’t kissed yet? It wasn’t like those moments just happened on their own.

Jonathan was a good man. Wasn’t that enough?

And let’s be real—who else would even dare to ask her out, knowing what they did about her? She didn’t want to end up as the eternal spinster aunt, alone for the rest of her life.

"You can marry someone you’re comfortable with," she mused. "There doesn’t need to be some heart-fluttering, butterflies-in-the-stomach kind of romance for marriage to work."

Veronica shrugged. "That’s true... if you’re okay with having boring sex for the rest of your life."

Joanne gasped. "Ver!" She certainly didn’t expect this from Veronica.

Veronica blushed and turned her face away. "I’m not talking about sex! I just mean... compatibility can be learned, sure, but there should at least be a spark. Attraction. If two people don’t even like each other’s scent, they’re biologically incompatible. Without the spark, even a ’good’ marriage will feel... hollow."

Joanne had no response.

Because—damn it—Veronica was right.

-----

Joanne walked toward the row of oak trees, her boots crunching softly against the earth. She rarely came here. Beyond those towering oaks had once been a small pond—an ancient body of water, her grandfather had said. She used to fish there as a child.

Everything changed one fateful evening.

A chill ran down her spine, her skin pebbling with goosebumps. Even after all these years, even with the pond long gone, she could still feel it. The terror. The helplessness.

She stood at the small rise where the oaks lined up like silent sentinels. The pond was no more—filled in years ago. Liam had done it. He saw how it haunted her, and without hesitation, he gathered his friends and they worked until it was gone.

Her grandfather hadn’t been pleased, mourning the loss of something that had stood for generations. But Liam? Liam had been unapologetically happy. The thing that tormented her was no longer there.

That was the kind of man he was.

Joanne’s gaze drifted to the wildflowers blooming where the water once stood. One by one, Liam had planted them—bringing flowers that thrived without much care, creating a space for her to reclaim. A place for beauty instead of fear.

Still, the fear lingered. Still, the nightmares came.

Only now, there was no one to hold her, no one to whisper that everything would be okay. Only alcohol kept the demons at bay.

She exhaled sharply, dragging out her phone, scrolling through her contacts. Her thumb hesitated over Captain Miller.

She hit dial.

The call connected, and she cut straight to the point.

The man who tried to kill her—he was supposed to be dead. Sentenced to electrocution. The government had fifteen damn years to carry it out. And yet... here she was. Here he was.

Her fingers turned numb as Captain Miller sighed through the line.

"I’m sorry, Joanne. We still haven’t found him."

A tremor ran through her hands.

She forced herself to take deep breaths. It’ll be fine... she patted her own arm, grounding herself, It’ll be fine.

But the anxiety coiled inside her, suffocating, restless. She needed to move, to do something.

Her feet led her to the wildflower garden.

Jeffrey rarely came here—there were buttercups and milkweed, both of which he despised. She had even planted snowdrops that spring, hoping to see them bloom by the end of next winter. She loved snowdrops.

But as she neared, her breath hitched.

The flowers were gone.

Eaten. Destroyed. Trampled.

Jeffrey.

That psychopathic horse.

Something inside her cracked.

She sank to her knees, staring at the ruins of what she had so carefully planted. A lump formed in her throat, and before she could stop herself, hot tears spilled over.

The escaped monster who still lurked in the shadows. The twisted mess of her feelings for JD. The guilt that gnawed at her for Jonathan. For Liam.

Even Jeffrey Winchester’s betrayal came back to crush her.

"Why did you do that, Jeffrey?" she sobbed, covering her face with her hands. "Why did you shatter my hopes? All the promises..."

Was she asking the horse she hated to love or was she asking the man who forgot all about her?

She didn’t know but she couldn’t stop sobbing.