Page 85 of If Our Hearts Collide

Claire picks one up, turns it around in her hand. “Huh. They sure look real.”

“I think that’s the whole goal,” I add, stifling a giggle.

“Seems like the shittiest thing I’ve ever seen. Talk about a tease.”

Momma takes out her phone and snaps some pictures at various angles. “I think I found my vision.”

“Oh, good, because I think the store is closing soon,” I respond, relieved that this outing is going to come to an end. I knew going into this adventure that my feet would hurt, but I didn’t expect just how much. My blisters are going to be raw at this rate.

I’m messing around with my phone when I see a new message pop up onto the screen. It’s from Collins and it looks as if he sent me an image.

I open up the message and see a picture of the guest room at his apartment and my hair tie resting on the nightstand and his finger pointing to it. I send back a laughing emoji in return. I honestly have no idea how I can keep leaving my ties all over the place. First in his car, then in his apartment. I must be the reason they sell them in packs of one hundred.

Momma clears her throat, causing us girls to look up. “Everything is all set, Penny. We are good to go.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup. Delivery is expected in the next five business days. You’ll get a text confirmation with a window of time you should be at your new place to let the delivery people inside.”

I nod. “Thank you, Momma. I really appreciate it.”

“I would do anything for you girls,” she says, bending over to give each of us a hug.

“Where to now?” I ask, getting up from the comfort of the display sofa.

“I’m hungry again,” Claire says, her tone serious. “And before any of you make a snide comment on how I’m”—her face distorts and her voice changes pitch—“letting myself go, it is the macarons’ fault.”

“Snacks it is,” Momma announces, causing us all to laugh.

16

PENNY

I am jamming out to Grace and Jace’s upbeat album they put out two years ago, feeling the pangs of nostalgia to a time when I was living my best life. I mean, anything has to be better than the doom and gloom feeling that flutters into my conscious thought when I find myself alone.

This is why I listen to music so much. It helps me to feel less isolated.

Puttering around my apartment, I struggle with what to clean next.

I’m running out of stuff to do here without officially moving in, and I’m growing bored. It’s pointless getting too settled yet without the addition of furniture, so I spent the better half of the day grocery shopping at the store next to the building and stocking the fridge, cupboards, and pantry with the essentials.

That’s the perk about living in the city—everything is relatively close. As much as I want to learn how to drive, I don’t really need to yet. Nothing is urgent, except for my desire to feel productive and successful.

I twirl around the space, allowing my skirt to flare about around me, when I hear a light knock on the door, followedby the doorbell. I prance over to the door, check the peephole, and then try to contain my excitement when I see a girl waiting patiently outside. Yes. Finally.

Pulling open the door, I give a polite smile. “Hi. I’m Penny.”

She looks confused. “Hi.” She pushes back her hair, smoothing it behind her ear. “I’m…” She gets distracted by the music blasting through my sound system.

“My roommate,” I finish, nearly bouncing on my feet. She looks harmless and friendly—both plusses. “Do you want to come in?”

“Actually…” She looks around me to see our unfurnished place, and I instantly want to tell her that we can fix it up the way we want. And then she clears her throat and says, “I’m just delivering this”—she hands me an envelope—“for you.”

“Well, that’s super embarrassing.”

Of course, now I see her shirt with the Sky View Apartments logo.

“Aw, don’t sweat it. Can you sign here? It’s certified mail.”

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