Page 55 of Blindly Yours

My phone chimes.

BigSpoon92

Ok. Have you toggled photo sharing on yet?

I raise my eyes to his again. There’s confusion written on his face. Suspicion too. I type my response while my gaze remains on his.

ASingleRose26

Hang on.

Nate’s phone pings. He gulps, glances down briefly to type something, then returns his eyes to mine.

My phone chimes.

BigSpoon92

What’s happening?

My palms start to sweat, and I take a step away from him. Something is happening. Something bad. I try to stop my brain from connecting the dots. “Who are you texting?” My voice shakes.

He watches me carefully. “Who areyoutexting?”

I look around at the neatly organized pots and pans in the kitchen of someone who loves to cook. My eyes find the crackling fireplace through the doorway, with the carefully chopped wood stacked nearby. I look down at the pair of boots I wear. Women’s boots that have been collecting dust in the closet.

Neither of our phones have made any more noise.

My breathing increases as I meet Nate’s gaze again, expecting to see bewilderment there, but he doesn’t even look confused anymore. He’s already figured it out, and now he’s watching me put the pieces together too. He looks almost apologetic.

But how could either of us have known?

I’m standing in the kitchen of the stranger I’ve begun to fall for online. And it’s Nate.

And I’m wearing his dead wife’s boots.

TEN

Nate

Rose slowly backs up and sinks into a chair at the table. All the color has drained from her face. “You’re Big Spoon?”

I shove my phone into my pocket and let out a long breath. I don’t know how I didn’t realize this sooner. Her username literally says ‘Rose.’ She joined Blindly by accident while looking for an elite singles app. She works in the city. She has problematic parents.

I run my hand down my beard and stare at her for a long moment before I nod. “Yep.”

Her mouth drops open like my verbal confirmation is an additional shock.

I’m not sure what to say. The girl I’ve been talking to on Blindly is perfect, sweet, adventurous, and…not Rose. Not snooty and obsessed with her overpriced shoe collection, or afraid to touch a snowflake.

But she is.

It’s the same person.

I shake my head in disbelief and almost laugh. “This is insane.”

Rose shakes her head at me too, but she looks irritated. She turns her eyes to the boots on her feet and suddenly kicks them off and sends them scooting halfway across the floor.

“I’m wearing your wife’s boots?” She stares at them, horrified. “That’s…that’s sowrong.”

---