Me
Me? I would never.
Rowan
Says the woman who practically threw herself on the back of my motorcycle five years ago.
Me
Didn’t hear you complaining.
Rowan
And you never will.
You’d also never steal someone’s sweatshirt.
Me
Nope. Never. I’m a law abiding citizen.
My cheeks hurt from smiling so dang hard.
The three dots appear, disappear, and reappear multiple times before my phone finally pings.
*Rowan has sent you a pin*
Another ping.
Rowan
Get the hell over here, runaway.
20
here the whole time
Rowan
Hannah
Be there in 10
One rushed scanof the house and I regret inviting her over. At the realtor’s suggestion, I’ve rid the entire residence of anything personal and packed it all into boxes to store at the lake house. Even most of the furniture has been cleared out. Photos, gone. Couch, gone. Dining table, gone. All the personality and coziness that was once here has been eliminated. And the handful of furniture pieces that remain are covered in drop cloths in preparation for my painting spree this weekend.
No food either other than a six-pack and some string cheese in the fridge. Maybe a box of crackers in the pantry.
I’ve got nothing but my company and redneck charcuterie to offer her.
There’s a knock at the door and I spin in place, silently reprimanding myself for not showering before she got here. She knocks again, and I’m on the move, hoping my sweatpants and T-shirt align with whatever she has on.
I open the door. Yeah, I definitely should have changed.
Hannah’s in the same red skirt I saw her in earlier today. A fitted black short-sleeved shirt is tucked into the high waistband and finished with a matching belt. Hair hangs in long waves around her shoulders. Red lace stilettos bring her nearly eye to eye with me.
“You gonna invite me in or…” she says, dragging my gaze up to hers.
I snap my jaw shut. “Yeah, sorry. Come in.”