42. Nate
FORTY-TWO
NATE
I watch her duck and swerve through the throng of bodies. And I think about what Hannah said.
I haven’t stopped thinking about what Hannah said.
How do I look at her?
Like you already love her.
I rest my hands on the tabletop to keep myself from pressing my palm over my heart.
It’s impossible.
Impossible to love someone I don’t even know.
But… it’s Rosie.
Her deep red hair flashes as she passes under an overhead light.
It’s my Rosie.
And I probably don’t love her. I don’t know that I’ve ever really loved a woman. Not like that. But there’s something there.
Something I’ve never felt before.
Something that feels a little like destiny.
She emerges from the crowd before me.
Destiny wrapped up in a curvy little package.