Dear Rosie, (Love Letters #2)

“Okay. Oh, and she won’t have to do stairs in your house, right? I didn’t even think?—”

“No stairs. And there’s an elevator up to my condo.”

“Thank fuck.” Presley’s relief is thick through the line. But even if my house was made of nothing but stairs, I’d rent out a place that wasn’t. “I’ll text you her room number. They said only family could visit, so I lied and said she was my sister. But they’ll probably let you in since you’re… you.”

“I’ll get in,” I say with confidence.

“Oh shit, you’ll need her apartment keys.”

“I’ll get in,” I repeat, still meaning it.

“How…?”

“I know a guy.”

“Okay. Just make sure the locksmith doesn’t break anything. I don’t want Rosie getting in trouble with her building.”

I think of my buddy Tony Stoleman.

Not a locksmith.

Then I head for the door. “We won’t make a mark.”

SEVENTY-NINE

NATE

I hold open the front door of Rosie’s building, and Tony walks through.

“Nice security.” He lifts a brow.

“I know.”

But I can’t think about that fucking unlocked door right now. That’s a problem for later.

Tony jogs up the stairs, and I follow him.

As soon as I hung up with Presley, I called my friend.

We met a decade ago through some random mutuals on the West Coast, but he’s actually from around here. Tony’s in the process of finding a house to buy in Arizona, but luckily for me, he’s back home house-sitting for his parents while they travel.

Tony rounds the top of the stairs and starts up the next flight.

He’s a good guy.

The best sort of friend.

But he’s also shady as fuck.

I don’t ask questions beyond what he offers, but I know he can get me into Rosie’s apartment quicker than I could track down her keys.

“So.” Tony looks back and forth across the short hallway. “Which one is hers?”

“Fuck me.” I clench my jaw. Two apartments occupy the third floor, and I didn’t ask which one.

Tony holds up his hand, small metal tools glinting under the overhead light. “I can just open both.”

I roll my eyes.