Dear Rosie, (Love Letters #2)

I tip my head back to look at him so he can see my eyes are filled with happiness, not sorrow. “It just makes this even more special.”

Nathan searches my gaze before dipping his head and pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Want me to go put it in the van so it doesn’t get crinkled?”

This time, I have to dig my teeth into my lower lip to stop my eyes from filling with tears.

I nod.

“Then pick out a painting you want me to buy.”

I sniff. “You don’t?—”

“I do.” He kisses my forehead again. “The scary husband said so.”

My mind wanders back to Savannah’s very handsome husband. “Was he scary, or was he?—”

Nathan spins so he’s in front of me, his hands under my armpits in an instant.

“Keep your eyes on the artwork, Woman.” He lifts me. “Or I’ll carry you right out of this building and over my lap.”

Nathan takes the few steps over to my chair, then gently sets me down.

I want to chastise him, but I’m smiling too hard over his ridiculous jealousy.

“Sit,” he commands.

Gripping his forearms, I lower myself into the chair.

He starts to step away.

“Nathan?”

He pauses.

I lift my hand and point. “I think Charles would like that one.”

ONE HUNDRED SEVEN

ROSALYN

Little feet walk up my side, bringing me out of my dream, away from a naked Nathan.

“You little butthole.” I yawn through the insult.

Charles, unbothered by the name-calling, pushes his nose against my temple.

“Okay, okay, I’m up.”

I roll onto my back and blink up at the ceiling.

“Seriously.” I scratch the top of Charles’s head. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some dick around here?”

The cat meows.

“You’re probably right.”

I sigh.

The lack of sex is my fault. I’ve been so tired the last two nights I barely even remember going to bed. But I do remember the conversation we had last night on the ride home.