Page 61 of Cinnamon Roll Set Up

“That soon?”

“I don’t see a need to wait.”

Everything he says lately threatens to turn me to goo. I’m sure in his mind there’s really no reason to delay—we’re buddies embarking on a practice date so I can help him find somebody else. Just because I’m suddenly conflicted about the possibility ofus, doesn’t mean he’s feeling the same way.

Great. I think I just hurt my own feelings.

I smile anyway. “Saturday it is.”

Text Thread

Georgia: I’m really sorry, but we’ll have to postpone our practice date

Georgia: I forgot I told Ava she could bring the littles to my place while she prepares for the birthday party

Miles: She needs a whole night to get ready for a birthday party?

Georgia: You haven’t been to their house. She goes all out for everything

Miles: Sounds familiar

Georgia: Don’t you dare

Georgia: Ava and I are not the same

Miles: Apologies

Miles: She sounds over the top while you are understated and subtle

Georgia: You’ll think so once you see Willa’s party

Georgia: Point is—I have two little terrors heading my way in a few hours

Miles: Do you want help wrangling them?

Georgia: You don’t want to do that. It’s the opposite of a night off

Miles: What else am I going to do? I’ll even bring Willa’s favorite thing

Miles: A huge pile of books

Georgia: Aw. Nothing like a man who knows how to entertain kids

Miles: After, we can do some math and clean

Georgia: Best babysitter ever

Chapter 21

Miles

I don’t regret that I’m not out with Georgia on a “practice” date right now. She made a commitment to her family and she’s following through. I respect that. And I’m glad she let me join in the craziness that is an evening with her younger brother and sister. I don’t have siblings or even younger cousins, so I’ve rarely had a night like this. We’re making personal pizzas, and then we’ll settle in for popcorn and a movie.

Idoregret letting Willa commandeer a ladle full of marinara sauce. Especially when she gestures wildly at me while she’s telling an exciting story about her classmates, leaving a zesty red splatter all over my pale gray shirt.

“Oops.” Her eyes go huge, and she tosses the ladle into the bowl of marinara. Sauce goes flying again, but it stays on the kitchen counter this time. “I didn’t mean it.”

“It’s okay.” I lift the fabric from my skin to try to escape the wet chill of sauce spreading down my front.

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