Page 115 of Playing Flirty

“How’d he take it?” Neema asked.

“It was pleasant and weirdly sad, but better than the initial breakup.”

“You see?” Neema spread her arms wide. “Even Patrick expected it.”

“Do you love him, Rosie?” my mother asked, her hand firmly on my slouched back.

I straightened. “I just told you I rejected him.”

“Do you love William, Shaun’smeanbrother?” My mother smiled her soft and calming smile. “Neema filled me in while you were out.”

I glared at Neema.

“What?” Neema held up both hands in surrender. “She guessed it. I confirmed it.”

“So you do love him.” My mom nodded.

“With every part of me,” I said without hesitation after having kept those words inside my chest for the longest time. “I love him more than I knew possible, and I don’t know what to do with all of it. He asked me to wait, and I want to respect that, but I also want to rush into his arms and never let go because it’s kind of hard to breathe without him.” I fidgeted with a loose thread on my skirt. A tear rolled down my cheek and dropped onto my hand. “I feel like I’ve known him forever, like I was made to know him. What am I meant to do?”

“I think you know.”

“I’m terrified. What if he doesn’t love me back?” My heart cracked at the mere thought of it.

“Zero chance of that,” Neema said, pinching me. “I’ve read his wedding speech, and it was pretty much an ode to you, as if Shaun and I aren’t the ones getting married. I mean”—she giggled—“he did call you a little hobbit cheerleader or something, but mostly it was clear as day that he thinks you’re perfect and he thinks of you all the time.”

Noise filled my ears.

The rest of Neema’s words disappeared as something pinged against the side of my brain.

Waves of memories flowed inside my mind. Back and forth. Coming closer until I could almost taste the thought before it washed away. Back. And forth.

Hobbit. Cheerleader.

Cheerleader. Hobbit.

William.

Hobbit.

It couldn’t be.

Could it?

Gooseflesh tickled across my skin. Gandalf. William. It could be a coincidence.

But somehow, I knew it wasn’t.

It didn’t matter that the probability of William being Gandalf was frighteningly low. It didn’t matter because the probability of me finding someone who matched me in every beat was even lower. And yet, somehow, I found him.

I found him twice.

And I could find him again. As many times as he needed me to.

Round 38

Iwas going to tell William I loved him.

And I believed he loved me too. But I remembered the fear in his eyes, the hesitation, and I understood it now. Loving someone is terrifying, and I think perhaps William had loved me for a long, long time.

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