I really need to read whatever Liam wrote me. When Callie heads upstairs to change out of her pajamas, I stop on the stairs and pull the letter out of my pocket.
Rosalie,
Wyatt will be on his best behavior today, and I’m trying to think of a good way to talk to him about manipulation. He’s not doing it on purpose, but in a different way, he’s still angling for a dog. A dog is not something he needs to talk us into or earn, just something we need to be ready for. I liked that you brought up patience last night. He’ll need it. You know how I get when it comes to big decisions. It’s going to take me a while to figure out the best dog for the family. For your sake, I’ll avoid the small yappy ones.
Thanks for talking to me like a true friend would. Your advice left me feeling hopeful.
Not your archnemesis,
Liam
P.S. Wyatt has a bullet-point list of consequences. He promised he’d show it to you.
I roll my eyes at the P.S., but I can’t help smiling.
I was afraid being friends with Liam would just make me wistful for more, but this is actually kind of wonderful. Maybe it will take the mystery out of his persona, and I can actually enjoy my next blind date for once.
I press the letter to my chest before folding it up and putting it back in my pocket. I’m keeping it, but I’ll need a good hiding place. Kambryn would find its existence exciting, but the contents underwhelming. I don’t need either of those things.
Gavin writes her notes all the time filled with words likebabyandlove you so muchandforever. I don’t know that he’s ever called her a true friend, though.
Chapter 9 – I’m Dying to Read It
Liam
Of course she’d write me back. Rosalie never suppresses a kind thought, which is one of the things I like best about her. I play with the edges of the folded-up letter she left for me under the calendar page and then shove it in the front pocket of my white dress shirt in a panic when I hear her coming down the stairs. Once at the bottom, she’ll walk through the living room and straight into the kitchen. It’s weird how I can predict her movements, but now I can’t predict my own.
Our phone conversation last night was easy, but a few minutes ago, I walked in and literally said, “Oh.” Like I was surprised to see her in my house.
More like, I was surprised by how much the attraction thing is going to be a problem going forward. When she turned and smiled at me, it seemed to happen in slow motion with a hair flip and everything. And then her smile dropped and she raised aneyebrow at me because I was being weird. Thankfully, the kids discovered I was home right then and ate up all the awkwardness between us with their squawking.
I thought my professional friendliness was to protect her, but maybe it was to protect me.
As expected, she walks right into the kitchen and comes to stand next to me at the desk, looking over the sticky notes. Tasks that don’t get done get moved up. Sometimes the edges of the calendar start to look like a Candy Land board. I do not miss the way her gaze goes from the calendar to my front shirt pocket. The letter doesn’t quite fit inside all the way. Even worse, she wrote it on a yellow sheet of paper.
“Got something there?” she asks with a smirk.
“Nope. It’s nothing.”
“I can just throw it out for you then.” She reaches for my letter, and I press my hand against my shirt to block her. Not that I think she’d actually take it from me. She’s already proved her point. Yes, I got her letter, and yes, I’m dying to read it.
“Is there anything you need before I go?” she asks. “I found my shoes.” Stepping back, she kicks out one leg in demonstration, showing off her brown leather sandal. “Callie put them in her closet because she thinks they’re cute.”
My daughter is a kleptomaniac and they are cute shoes. But I don’t say any of that. All I manage is, “They are shoes.”
Rosalie laughs like I said it as a joke. Yeah, let’s go with that. My humor is dryyyy today.
I rub the back of my head. “So, um. No, I don’t need anything. I might hit the grocery store tonight, and if I do, I’ll cross off what we get from the list.”
“Okay.”
My cell phone rings, and I pull it from my back pocket. Rosalie starts to move away, assuming it’s a work call, but when I answer and say, “Hi, Jack,” she quietly claps her hands together.
Jack is the exception to every rule. He can get away with not calling me for months, and it still feels like we’re close. While Rosalie tiptoes around my parents, she loves Jack. My younger brother is a lot like her, actually. They both break down wallswithout really trying.
When Callie dances into the kitchen and motions for me to pick her up, I roll my eyes and hand Rosalie the phone.
She takes it gladly so I can hold my daughter. “Liam is temporarily unavailable. How’s it going, Jack? How’s Florida?”