Dear Rosie, (Love Letters #2)

Clutching the coffee to my chest, I turn away from Nathan and circle around his giant island.

Leaving that damn cat has me way too close to crying.

I lift the tumbler to my lips and try to mask my sniff with a sip.

Maybe I could get a cat. I’ve just always felt so guilty about leaving them home alone on my long days, but maybe they’d be okay. And I could make up for being gone with all the days I’m at home cooking.

Nathan joins me by the front door, and we put our shoes on in silence. And I finally notice that he’s dressed the same as last night too. Minus the hoodie.

He hands me my purse from where I dropped it on the floor, and I try not to blush remembering our hurry to get to the bedroom.

The silence continues in the elevator and as we walk through the below-ground parking ramp.

Nathan leads me to an all-black midsize SUV.

It’s nice. Like really nice, but I still somehow pictured him in some snazzy sports car, not something so… practical.

Nathan reaches around me to open the passenger door. “Don’t forget to buckle up.”

I make a humming sound and avoid eye contact as I slip past him.

He closes my door for me, and I use the time it takes him to round the back of the vehicle to quickly buckle my seat belt, setting my purse on my lap and resting my coffee on top of that.

I’m making it weird.

I know I am, and I don’t mean to, but I just feel so… melancholy.

Everything has felt so easy between us.

The drinks. The kissing. Talking.

And that fucking cat.

More of that sadness twists around my heart.

Last night was the perfect reminder of why we were such good friends twenty-five years ago. Even as kids, our personalities just… clicked.

Nathan opens the driver’s door, and I force my body to relax. I don’t want to end our time together with awkward silence.

Turning my head to look at him, I hold up my coffee. “Thank you for this.”

The side of his mouth pulls up in a partial smile. “You’re welcome.”

He sets his drink in one of the empty cupholders between us, buckles in, and starts the engine.

Nathan pauses with his hand on the shifter. “Wanna put your address in the GPS?”

My fingers flex around the cup in my hands.

I don’t really want to do that. Giving him my address seems a little too… hopeful.

But my horny ass agreed to let him drive me home, so there’s literally no way to avoid it.

I reach out to the screen on his dashboard and start to type in my address.

Before I can finish, the radio clicks on, and voices fill the car.

“Oops.” Nathan lifts his hips off the seat and shoves his hand into his pocket.