Dear Rosie, (Love Letters #2)

Today was another day where Nathan surprised me with his kindness. But I think it probably says more about me and my trauma that I allow myself to be surprised when he’s just being his usual nice self.

Nathan spent all afternoon helping Ruth and me in the kitchen.

He brought up all my travel tubs from my van. Which is parked downstairs. Because back when I was still in the hospital, he arranged to have it brought here—instead of to my house, where I assumed it was.

It still has a banged-up bumper, but it drives just fine.

Then, an hour ago, Nathan announced he’ll be my assistant tonight.

I tried to fight it.

Tried to picturetheNate Waller acting as my catering assistant.

But no matter what I said, he insisted. He also claims to have cleared it with the event space.

So Nathan and I are about to head out, dressed up, with him driving my catering van.

I press my lips together and slowly inhale through my nose.

Nathan’s support is the thing dreams are made of.

And before I wake up from this heaven, I need him to know.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “You’ve already done so much… I can never thank you enough.”

Nathan settles his hands on either side of my neck, his skinso warm against mine. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Pretty Rosie.”

I swallow.

Then I swallow again.

Because he just might be telling me the truth.

And that’s as terrifying as it is wonderful.

ONE HUNDRED FIVE

NATE

“It’s her.” Rosie’s fingers dig into my side.

“Who? The painter lady?” I look around the mostly empty art gallery, even though I don’t know who I’m looking for.

“The painter lady.” Rosie mocks me. “You mean Savannah Vass, one of the most talented painters I’ve ever followed.”

I bite down on my smile.

I don’t know how I ever thought Rosie was fangirling over me when I showed up at Maddox’s house that day. Clearly, I had no idea what fangirling Rosie looked like.

“My bad,” I say in a serious tone. “Which one is she?”

“Oh my god, she’s coming over. Hold my crutches.” Rosie, still clinging to my side with one hand, shoves her crutches at me.

I try not to chuckle. “Beautiful, you still need to keep your weight off your foot.”

She presses the crutches against my chest. “I’ll sit in that damn chair all night if you give me this.”

In that case.