Chapter 15 – Cheesy Suspense
Rosalie
There are two new messages from Mr. Emoji when I wake up on Saturday morning. He wants to know if I like fondue. The second message is a bunch of cheese and bread emojis. I better relieve the suspense. What will he do if he doesn’t know the cheesy truth?
Rosalie: Yep, I like fondue. See you tonight at class.
Mr. Emoji: See u then!!!!!
I’m actually not sure if I like fondue, having never tried it, although it sounds delicious.
However, saying that would have opened up a conversation I don’t have time for.
I have a whole list of things I need to get done before our cooking-class date tonight, starting with laundry so I can wear my good jeans.
Also, since we’re making pasta, I can only assume he’s asking about fondue as a follow-up date. He’s been doing that all week, gauging my interest in lots of different hobbies and foods.
It’s super sweet and hopeful, which only makes me feel even more squirmy about my lack of excitement.
It’s not his looks. I’ve tried going back to the picture Kambryn sent me to dredge up some enthusiasm about him because he is, by all standards, very nice to look at.
He’s a blond and fit prince charming with dimples and everything.
But he’s almost too good-looking, like AI-level-attractive where I’m searching for an extra limb to prove he’s not real.
I’d really like to know his skin routine, because mine could use some improvement.
Originally, we were just going to meet up for dinner, but we moved the date to Saturday after he heard about this class hosted by the Scottsdale Rec Center. They had a cancellation for tonight, giving us the last slot.
It seemed like a no-brainer. If it’s a dud for either of us, at least we’ll have freshly made pasta and the skills to make more.
I am totally making pasta with the kids once I learn; maybe as a way to chase away the first-day-of-school grouch in a few weeks. The first day of school is so overwhelming and overstimulating that it’s no surprise when kids melt down around afternoon snack time.
“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!” Kambryn waltzes into our room in her workout clothes, smelling like caramel lattes and unrestrained energy. Aubrey is right behind her, pink-cheeked and bright-eyed. They must have gotten up early and hit the Dutch Bros on the corner before going for a run.
“Why are you so tired?” Kambryn asks. “You were in bed when I got home last night.”
“I get up early all week, so I save up my tiredness for Saturdays.” I also don’t drink coffee or do morning workouts, so I’m a normal amount of tired and they’re just weirdos trying to rub it in.
Although, I guess that makes Liam a weirdo too, because he sneaks in a workout every day before heading to the office.
Maybe they’re on to something, but I feel like I get plenty of exercise chasing Wyatt and Callie around all day.
Liam even bought a bike for me last year so I could ride with the kids.
Callie can’t wait to get her training wheels off.
When it cools down, we’ll tackle that milestone.
“How has work been?” Kambryn starts making her bed, and though she’s not facing me, I can sense this is not a throw-away question. Aubrey’s face confirms it. They’ve been discussing me.
“The kids are fine. Wyatt wants a dog.”
“That’s not what I’m asking, Ro.” Without warning, she turns and leaps onto my bed, grabbing a pillow and whacking me with it.
“Make her stop, Aubrey!”
Aubrey just laughs and holds up her hands in a plea of neutrality.
My bed has a plethora of pillows, and I’m reaping the consequences. I grab one to whack her back, but Kambryn’s ready for me and blocks my hit with a different pillow.
“Why do you keep so many pillows?” She punctuates her words with hits, but she’s giggling so hard that her hits are weak.
“I need the orthopedic one for when my neck hurts, but the squishy soft one for when I want to fall asleep fast. I have one that’s great for hugging, and that flat one is for when I lie on my stomach and read.”
“You’re so old.”
“It’s coming for you, Kam.” I duck her next hit.
“Not as soon as it’s coming for you.” Kambryn gets in a good hit, and I fall dramatically back against the wall. Thankfully, I’m cushioned by a pillow.
Our fight has uncovered the book I finished reading last night, and when Kambryn picks it up to look at it, I leap off the bed and throw back her covers so she’ll have to start over in making her bed. She shrieks in outrage. It’s so easy to mess with clean freaks.
Unfortunately, she’s holding my book. An evil smile crosses her face as she reads the title aloud. “Second Sons and Hot Cross Buns?” I’m telling Mom you’re reading trash.”
“It’s a historical novel! It’s referring to the nursery rhyme.”
“So, there’s not a second son of a duke in this with hot buns?”
“No!” I reach out for it, but she, of course, dashes out of the room with all her runner energy. Aubrey flattens herself against the doorway so I can give chase, but Kambryn’s on the phone with our mom before I can even rescue my reading glasses that got knocked to the floor.
Kambryn never threatens anything she’s not willing to go through with.
Not that Mom is worried about my reading habits.
I’m a grown woman. Also, Mom’s perfectly capable of using Google.
And after looking up the title and seeing I’m right, and it’s a very tame romance, Kambryn, Aubrey, Mom, and Dad team up in making the worst puns about buns you’ve ever heard.
All things considered, it’s a good Saturday morning.
At least until my phone buzzes with another text while I’m loading clothes into the washing machine downstairs.
Mr. Emoji: I have a surprise for you!
There’s a line of gift emojis following this, so I can safely rule out a few non-gift things that could fall under the surprise category, like bringing along his mother for me to meet (that was a few dates ago) or a text poem (the last guy).
My favorite line, which will forever be burnt into my memory is this: Summer nights, gentle breeze, being with you makes me weak in the knees.
More like it was blazing hot with no breeze while we played mini golf, but who’s counting? We did bend our knees a lot. Those putters were short.
I let him down gently and never heard from him again. I’m thinking he got some bad advice about winning me over with poetry and took it as a life lesson. At least, that’s what I hope.
Mr. Emoji: Can I come by in a bit?
I quickly put detergent in the slot and start the machine before tucking my phone away and making a run up the stairs back to our apartment.
Maybe I need to start jogging with Kambryn.
I am totally out of breath when I reach the top floor, and I’m going to hide all Kambryn’s favorite shoes for giving out our address to the most enthusiastic man I’ve not met in person.
I shout for her as soon as I’m inside. “Kambryn!”
She’s waist-deep in the fridge, cleaning it out, and whacks her head on a shelf. Justice comes swiftly in the Barnes household.
“What?”
“Did you give Mr. Emo—I mean Trey our address?”
“Did you just call him Mr. Emo? He wears pink polos and uses tanning beds. He’s like the opposite of emo. And no, I would never give out our address.”
“Okay, good. Then how do I tell him he can’t come by in a bit because I’m not giving it out?”
She comes over and takes the phone from me, laughing when she sees Mr. Emoji as the contact name. When she swipes up to see the rest of his messages, her eyes widen. “He’s been busy.”
“Yeah. Should I be concerned?”
“No. He talks my ear off at the gym. I think you’re good.” But she keeps scrolling up and up, her forehead wrinkling.
Right then, my phone pings. It’s a new message from him, and she scrolls all the way back down.
Mr. Emoji: On my way. I hope you’re home.
Kambryn and I grasp each other in a silent freakout.
“What do I do?” I whisper. We’re both watching the phone to see if he sends anything more. In my head, I’m categorizing possible weapons. I have a baseball bat under my bed, and I carry pepper spray in my purse. Spraying my date in the eyes would be a new low.
“I’m going for my bat,” I tell her.
“No, Rosie. We’re not choosing violence today. The guy’s bringing you a gift. Or maybe eight gifts if the emojis are any indication.”
“Not funny right now.”
“Okay, wait. Wait.” She holds onto my arm as if I’m normally a violent person and she needs to restrain me.
“What if Gavin gave him our address? He mentioned last night that he ran into Trey at Subway and they bonded over their love of the Protein Pockets. Your name probably came up. I don’t know why it wouldn’t. ”
“How sure are you?”
“Not super sure. Half the time Gavin says I live in Desert Oasis instead of Desert Vista. I’ve corrected him a bunch. But he could drive here in his sleep.”
I take my phone back and just text Trey. This is getting ridiculous.
Rosalie: How do you know where I live?
Mr. Emoji: It’s a funny story. I’ll call you.
He calls seconds later, and much to Kambryn’s disappointment, I head outside and walk out of earshot. I need a clear head and no interference.
“Hi, Trey.”
“Hi, Rosalie. I’m sorry. This was probably a bad idea.
But you mentioned that you love Oreos and I was at the store waiting on my mom and saw something that would be so perfect for our date.
I’m not far from you, and I promise I only know that because your sister’s boyfriend pointed out which one was your apartment when we were driving by the other night. ”
“You were hanging out with Gavin?”
Also, is he going to show up with his mom? I can’t handle another mother-of-the-blind-date situation.
“We went to Top Golf after we ran into each other at Subway.”
I suppress a laugh. That does sound like Gavin. He’s an impulsive and friendly guy. I’m not sure how they could accidentally drive by our apartment, however, which means they did it on purpose. It’s so high school crush, I could die.
“Kambryn and I are cleaning out my car, so we’ll meet you outside. How close are you?”
“Like five minutes away?”
“Okay. See you in a few.”
Aiming Kambryn’s high-energy cleaning vibes into my car seems like a fair trade-off for her boyfriend’s overshare.
After explaining the situation to her, I drag her down to the parking lot with an empty laundry basket.
She catches while I hand her things from my back seat.
I find candy wrappers tucked in between seats, wrinkled coloring pages from a trip to the library, junk mail I tossed back there, and random clothing items—both clean and dirty, both mine and the kids.
If my life has a junk drawer, it’s my back seat. Kambryn can’t even judge me. In her case, it’s her gym bag. It’s her one mess indulgence, even if she cleans it out every Saturday to start fresh.
“So, he didn’t say what he was bringing?”
“No. Something to do with Oreos.”
“Yay!”
“Not yay, Kambryn. Picture a chart. One line is nice gestures and attention from Mr. Emo— I mean Trey.” I slap my forehead. “The other line is my blood pressure. This is the curve.” I demonstrate it going up higher and higher.
I do not explain that in the back of my mind, Liam is always there.
I’m not sure where he’d fit into this chart, but he’s on it.
On our walk down here, I was thinking about where I’d put my last letter from him.
It’s in the console at the very bottom tucked out of sight.
I thought about him when I faced the messiness of my back seat and realized he saw it last night and didn’t say anything.
I definitely think about him when Trey pulls up in the exact same model Yukon Liam drives, although Trey’s is cherry red. His mother is in the passenger seat.