Dear Rosie, (Love Letters #2)

Me: Do I get to see Charles?

My question implies we’ll end up back at his place. But I figure that’s a given, so I don’t feel bad about being so forward.

Nathan: Let me ask him if he’ll be home.

I picture Nathan turning to his cat and asking him the question out loud. And I know I’m screwed.

I’m going to say yes to drinks. We’ll have another mind-blowing night in his bed. And then, when this thing between us fizzles out, I’ll only have myself to blame for my broken heart.

Nathan: He has lunch plans but said he’ll be home by the evening.

Instead of laughing, his response makes me want to cry. Because by the end of this, I’m going to be just as attached to his fucking cat.

I close my eyes and take a breath before replying. Dooming myself to heartache, but unable to stop.

Me: I’ll meet you there.

SEVENTY

Four Hours Later

Nathan: Did you get all your cooking done?

Rosie: It’s not even noon.

Nathan: Is that a no?

Rosie: I’m a professional, not a magician.

Nathan: Are you making meatballs today?

Rosie: Not if I keep getting interrupted.

Nathan: Mimes zipping lips.

Sunday – The Next Day

Nathan: How was your event yesterday?

Rosie: No complaints. No ambulances. Calling it a win.

Nathan: What flavor marshmallow did you make?

Rosie: Banana Cream.

Nathan: Banana? Rosie, how could you?

Rosie: What’s your problem with bananas?

Nathan: Nothing. When they stay in their lane.

Rosie: There’s a banana lane?

Nathan: Obviously. And it doesn’t include soiling marshmallows.

Rosie: I’m rolling my eyes.

Nathan: Pics or it didn’t happen.