Dear Rosie, (Love Letters #2)

She didn’t believe me when I said I could find her. But I wasn’t lying.

And I was never pretending.

She’ll understand that soon.

I just need to do a few things first.

ONE HUNDRED FORTY

ROSALYN

I switch tabs on my laptop, looking between my bank account, a list of rental apartments outside of Chicago, and another list of places in northern Minnesota.

If I stay in Minnesota, I’ll be able to keep my business licensing stuff the same. But if I stay in Minnesota, I’m easy to find.

Different state. Different business name. That’s the smarter choice.

I click on the other tab I have open for Hawaii.

Maybe I should put an ocean between Nathan and me. If he decides to look for me, he would never look there.

I glance at the Wi-Fi symbol at the top of my screen and wonder if Nathan can track my laptop somehow.

I turned my phone off yesterday.

I should’ve done it the second I left his condo, but I needed the GPS to get to this hotel. And after I checked in, I cried myself to sleep and didn’t wake up until noon, which is when I turned my phone off.

I need to email Presley.

Need to figure out what to do with the rest of the events I’ve booked this year.

I put my elbows on the little desk and drop my head into my hands.

I worked so hard to have independence. But it was just that. Hard.

And I don’t really want life to be hard anymore.

Maybe I should just let Rosalyn’s Restaurant go.

I can get a job at someone else’s restaurant. I can work to survive until this heartbreak passes. Then I can?—

The sound of something sliding across the rough carpet has my head jerking up.

I look at the door.

It’s still closed.

But my breath catches.

Because lying on the floor, two feet from the door, is a folded piece of paper.

A letter.

I stare at it.

Then at the door.

He found me.