Chapter 12
Twelve
Deep in the pool of my current main male character’s cologne—a character whose name I might have forgotten—I sip on my lemonade, eyes on my book. A late June breeze from the café patio wafts past me, rustling my hair.
I’m so engrossed that I don’t even realize he’s there, until that cologne is real. Present. Almost tangible.
“Ahem.” Zev clears his throat. He’s standing right next to me, flowers in hand. “Hey,” he says.
“Oh.” My brows lower. “Hey.” I can’t help it. My eyes drop to the small bouquet in his hands.
Not flowers. Flowers do not say friends. And not daisies. Daisies turn me into a swooning Meg March.
“I can’t stay. And I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.
” He gulps down a nervous swallow. “But you’re new in town, and I want you to feel welcomed.
So—” He holds out the small bundle of daisies…
and I know what I’ll be rereading next. “And I thought you might like this.” His other hand holds out a book that I had assumed to be his.
I clamp down on my bottom lip and take the book from his hands, leaving him to set the daisies on the table.
It’s clearly a children’s book. Maybe I gave him the wrong idea with my love for Return to Saigon.
It is a book—he pays attention—but I’m not usually into children’s reads. “The Invisible Boy. Never heard of it.”
“I’m guessing that, with a few exceptions, you don’t read middle grade novels anymore.”
“That would be a good guess.” I’m not trying to sound ungrateful, but I’m also trying really hard not to give Zev the wrong idea here.
“I figured. But I had a good feeling about this one. I think you’ll like it more than you realize.”
I stir in my seat. “Thanks, Zev. That was thoughtful of you. Unnecessary. But thoughtful.”
He shoves both hands into his pockets. “Just a welcome gift from one new friend to the other.”
I exhale.
“Goodbye, Rose.”
And then, true to his word, he’s gone.
I glance at the flowers and book on my passenger seat before hauling them into my house. Grammy is going to have a heyday with this. And I might need to prepare myself to hear her opinion.
I pull in a long breath through my nostrils and gather up the gifts that Zev has no business giving me.
Then again, what kind of woman hates flowers? Sure, they’ll die in three days, but he chose daisies and he paired them with a book. I made it clear at the bookstore that I’m not interested in a relationship. Maybe Zev gives all his new friends gifts. He specifically said from one friend to another.
I steel myself and turn the knob of our tiny house.
Grammy’s sitting in our small living room, toe tapping to some country tune I’ve never heard before. “You’re back,” she says.
“Yeah.”
“And you brought flowers.” Her thin brows lift, her button nose crinkling with a smile.
“Yeah. That man from the café—he brought them to me. And this.” I hold up the book.
“It’s a children’s book. He knows I read romance.
He sees me there every single Monday. But he brought me a kids’ book.
And look,” I say, confessing everything in the span of one breath.
Apparently, I do want to know what Grammy has to say about this.
I open the front of the hardbound book to the blank front page.
She takes it from my hand and reads Zev’s note. “Rosalie, I think you’ll like this one. It just might change your life. Love, Zev Hayes.” Grammy’s eyes lift to mine. “Is that his phone number?”
“Yes. He brought me a gift and wrote his number in the book and—” I flap my arms at my sides. “What do I do?”
“You use that number. Immediately. You call that boy and you ask if your grandmother can see his shoulders.”
“Gram! His shoulders?”
“Yes,” she says. “I believe you described them as boulders the last time you told me about him.”
I press my lips together. Zev is a large man—large and fit and sort of sculpted. It’s impossible not to notice. It’s not like I was trying to notice. You can’t not notice him—and all the sculpting. I’m talking Hercules physique. How does someone look into a crowd and miss Hercules? They don’t.
“I’m not asking him that,” I tell her.
“Can I?”
“Gram! No. I need your opinion. I told him I needed friends and that I’m not ready for anything more. But is this implying he wants more? I don’t even know the guy.” I swallow. “This gift is… presumptuous.”
“It’s sweet.”
“It’s too much,” I snap.
Gram peers over the front cover of The Invisible Boy. “It’s perfect.” She hands me back the book and fists one hand on her hip. “Well, if you don’t call him, I will.”
I roll my eyes. “You aren’t doing that.”
“Then be friends with the man. No one is saying you have to do more. Although, I don’t know what’s holding you back.”
“How can I date someone new when I still have feelings for Rob? I know what everyone said he did. But I can’t imagine that.
I didn’t live that.” I peer down at my toes.
“And before you say it, I also know that he’s married.
It’s not like I’m going to try to win him back.
But my feelings don’t have a shut-off switch.
I need to get over him, and it’s going to take time. ”
“Darling, the fact is, he did do those awful things. He broke your heart. And the sooner you come to the realization, the better. Don’t let him hold you back again.”
But I don’t know how to process this. I need to ask Dr. Case. I need some magical pill that will fix my broken head.
“All right.” Grammy claps her hands together. “I just need to run to the bathroom, and then I’m running errands. You can come with me, and we’ll talk more about the redhead.”
“His name is Zev.”
“I know it. I like it. I also like that from what you’ve said his hair is the shade of Ed Sheeran’s. He’d produce some beautiful great-grandchildren.”
“Gram! I believe I just said I’m not ready to date. No baby talk.”
She sighs. “What? The fact is, he will make beautiful babies. I didn’t say they’d be yours.”
“So, you aren’t saying that I should have babies with basically a stranger—that’s probably wise. Let’s maybe learn one or two things about a man before we start talking babies.”
“If you insist.”