Dear Rosie, (Love Letters #2)

Me: I have to work Saturday morning.

As soon as I hit send, I realize that could be taken the wrong way.

Me: Meaning I can’t stay out late tomorrow.

THIRTY-NINE

NATE

“This fucking girl.”

Charles purrs louder.

Me: 8pm at the Booze Hooch

I send the St. Paul address.

Me: Unless that’s too far. I don’t know how close you live.

FORTY

ROSALYN

I lift my head to look out my bedroom window, toward the St. Paul skyline.

Me: That’s not too far.

Nathan: So you’ll come.

I drop my head back down.

Me: I’ll try.

Nathan: Promise me.

My fingers hesitate over the screen.

Me: I have a job tomorrow. If something goes wrong, I could still be working at 8.

It’s mostly true. Though I doubt anything would keep me that late.

Nathan: I can wait all night.

He’s not going to let this go.

And if I’m honest with myself, I don’t want him to.

Me: Fine. If I’m going to be late, I’ll let you know.

I lower my phone onto my chest and roll my neck so I’m staring at my closed closet door.

My phone vibrates.

And keeps vibrating. With a call.

My poor pulse skips again.

Nathan is calling me.