Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
I slap the throw pillows on our couch, attempting to fluff them.
“You’ve smacked that one thoroughly, dear.”
“I know. I just—” I slap the pillow once more. “I just want everything to look nice and—”
“And he doesn’t care about our throws.” Grammy picks up the pillow I’ve been beating.
“You’re right,” I say, pacing once in front of the coffee table. “I don’t even know what this man does for a living. But I like him. And when I kissed him—”
“It was as if his soul spoke to yours?”
“Yes.” I shake my head. “Is that insane?”
“That’s how I felt about my Kermit. So, it doesn’t sound insane to me.” She sits on the other pillow I spent far too long fluffing.
“But I need to ask questions. I know so little about him. And that is crazy.”
“Dearest, it’ll come. Don’t force it.”
I huff and hold a calming hand to my stomach. “I just haven’t felt like myself—” I tap my head. “With good reason, broken brain and all. But with Zev. I feel like me. Like I’m exactly who I’m supposed to be.”
“You are not broken, Rosalie. You are on a journey.”
“Okay… but I don’t know about his family or his job. I—I don’t know why he was crying last night. I just walked in, saw him, and kissed him.” Another pace. I run a hand over my scar and down my face. “What kind of woman does that? Who have I turned into? Is this what past-future Rosalie did?”
“Past-future Rosalie?” Grammy squints, confused.
“You know, the Rosalie that you know that I don’t know.”
“You are one and the same, darling girl. That’s all I know.
” She pats the seat next to hers, toe tapping, and I sit down by her.
“I say you let things work out organically. He doesn’t need twenty questions the minute he enters.
Just talk. If his job comes up, ask. If not, don’t worry about it. You’ll get there.”
“We’ll get there,” I chant her words. “We’ll get there.
” This feels so strange. One minute I’m with Robert, then I’m wishing I were with Robert, then I’m grateful I’m not, and then Zev.
It’s like blink, blink, blink. Snap, snap, snap.
It’s so fast, and my brain doesn’t have time to process any of it.
“Just be open to your feelings.” Grammy pats my hand. “Trust yourself. Trust your soul.”
I nod. “My soul.” Though I swear I sound like a foolish person. I thought she was a little ridiculous when she first told me that my soul liked his soul.
There’s a tap on the front door and Grammy slides her bottom to the edge of the couch. “I’m going to check on dinner. You answer the door.” She crinkles her nose with a grin before disappearing into the kitchen.
I stand and smooth the front of my cotton skirt.
“Okay, Rosalie,” I say, feeling the need for a pep talk.
“You’ve got this. No need to pressure the man with questions.
And no need to tackle him like a linebacker.
Let things move organically.” I set my hand to the doorknob.
“Organically,” I whisper. “Trust your instincts.”
I pull open the door to the six-foot-something, redheaded, shoulders-like-boulders man holding a small bouquet of daisies. My heart does this strange, urgent leaping thing inside my chest. And I have to remind myself that I am not a linebacker. Zev does not need tackling at this moment.
I’m trying very hard to trust my instincts. Only, my instincts are telling me to leap, wrap my legs around his waist, and kiss him until he can’t walk straight. Is that organic?
Okay, Rose, maybe don’t trust your instincts.
I press my lips together. “Hi.” I’m so proud of myself. I sound so much calmer than I feel.
“Hi.” Zev grins, then leans down. His nose skiffs my cheekbone before he presses one soft kiss there. I breathe him in like he is one hundred percent oxygen and I’m completely out of breath.
Golly, the man smells good.
He lingers by my cheek. So, I turn my head—as if I have no other choice—and press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. It cannot be helped. It’s the linebacker in me. “Hello,” I say again. I’m a neodymium magnet—the strongest in the world—and he’s the exact steel I’m attracted to.
I’m telling you, it’s organic!
I pause with the thought… How do I even know what a neodymium magnet is? I have no recollection of learning about the rare-earth magnets with maximum strength—and yet, in this moment, as a neodymium linebacker, I know exactly what it is.
Zev breathes out a short, pleasant laugh. “These are for you.”
“My favorite,” I say, taking the daisies from his hand.
“I would have brought a book, but the shop was closed today.”
And because I’m the magnet and Zev’s the steel, I lift on my toes and press another kiss to his cheek. “Thanks. This is perfect.”
But my one simple expression of gratitude isn’t enough. It doesn’t feel like… enough.
Grammy is right. Something inside of me needs to touch him. It can’t be stopped.
With my free hand wrapped around his neck and the gift of his daisies in my other at my side, I place a third kiss on his cheek, this time closer to his lips.
One more kiss, even closer this time, and then—hallelujah—I’m there.
I nudge my mouth to his, soft and slow, the exact opposite of how I feel.
The perfectly lovely bundle of daisies he brought falls to the ground as I wind my other arm around his neck and mold my lips to his. Forget soft and slow.
Rosalie! I truly attempt to silently scold myself. But it doesn’t work.
Because—it really did feel organic. I am trusting my gut. And my gut told me to tackle and make out with Zev. I promise that’s what it said.
Zev’s hands are on my hips, holding me next to him. He doesn’t mind my organic linebacker method one bit. But then, did I give him a choice?
“Sorry,” I say, my whispering words a memo pressed right against his mouth.
His lips, against mine, turn up in a grin. “You really need to stop apologizing.”
I loosen my grip on him and slide myself the few inches down that very tall man’s body—apparently, in my need to kiss him, I also climbed him like a tree.
I put a foot of space between us. A shaky breath exhales from my lips.
I clear my throat and adjust my floral print top. “I’m not usually so… forward.”
“I’m not complaining,” he says.
“I just—” I bite my lip, and I do the very opposite of Grammy’s sane and wise advice. “It’s like I can’t help myself. I hardly know you. I don’t know what you do for a living. I know nothing about your family or where you grew up. I don’t even know your middle name—”
“I don’t have one.”
“See? I had no idea. But it’s like—” I shake my head once and study the ground. I hold my hands to my stomach, keeping my nerves in check. “It’s like you do something to my insides. It’s like my ovaries are telling me I have to kiss you.”
His brows knit. “Your ovaries are telling you—”
“That if I don’t touch you, my body is going to rebel against me.” I hiccup and ramble faster. “And I’m sure this is freaking you out. But remember, you freaked me out first.”
“By all means, tell me. I’m not going anywhere, Rose.”
And then, I completely lose my mind. “It’s like my soul—” My voice cracks. I’m not even sure why. “My soul knows you already.” I blow a puff of air through my lips and attempt a fruitless laugh. I sound like an insane woman.
When I’m brave enough to lift my eyes to Zev’s, he’s watching me. His icy blue eyes are glassy and smiling. “I know exactly how you feel.”