Page 57 of Blindly Yours

I turn to find her staring at me expectantly. “You’re gonna sleep here again tonight.” I motion toward her room. “And then tomorrow I’ll dig your car out and you can head home. It’s simple, really.”

She looks at me like I’ve missed the point. “I mean…about us.”

I raise both brows. “Oh, um. Well, I mean, it’s clear we’ve made a mistake. So, we should just…” My palms feel sweaty, and I don’t know why. “…move on?”

She turns her eyes to the floor and runs her hand through her hair. “Yeah, you’re right. Ok.”

I blink at her for a moment. She seems almost disappointed. But I lower my voice. “We both know I’m not who you’re looking for.”

“Right.” She still doesn’t look at me.

“There’s literally no way we could have known this was going to happen. And maybe we’ve discovered why an app that restricts identities is not a great idea,” I set the towel down and cross my arms.

She finally lifts her eyes to mine again. They’re a steel blue; soft and severe at the same time. She’s gorgeous. I’m not denying that. The first time I walked into her office, I may have spent a little too long studying her tight skirt and the undone button she hadn’t noticed at the top of her blouse. And earlier tonight atNelson’s, for just a moment, I relished the curve of her body against mine when I taught her how to shoot pool.

But it ends there. She’s not my type in any other way.

She’s studying me now like she might find a secret hidden in my eyes. And I let her. I stare right back, searching her just the same.

“I’m going to bed,” she finally says with a sigh as she blinks away and begins to retire.

“We can leave at eight in the morning,” I call after her.

“Fine,” she replies. And then I’m alone.

I finish drying the last dish and then retrieve Amber’s boots from their haphazard spots on the floor. I run my finger across the stitching on the side, remembering the way they looked on her. Remembering the way she would wear them when she made snow angels with four-year-old Kara in our yard. I don’t know why I kept them. I donated all her clothes over a year ago. But the boots remained in the closet. A lingering memory of those beautiful moments.

Seeing Rose wear them affected me differently than I expected. I thought it would hurt. But instead, it actually gave me hope. Hope that someone could fill Amber's shoes someday. In my life and in Kara’s.

And it seemed harmless to let Rose wear them, but that was before I knew she was ASingleRose. If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have offered them. I didn’t want her to fill Amber’s shoes. Not literally. She’s right, it’s now somehow…wrong.

I walk to the hall closet and return them to the place in the back next to the box of Christmas decorations. Then I check the coals in the fireplace, shut off the lights, and retire to my bedroom, where I flop down in bed and pull out my phone.

I open Blindly and scroll through our conversation. My chest tightens as I realize this is over. I miss her already. I miss what could have been. Twenty minutes ago, the promise of potential between us gave me more hope than I’ve felt in a long time. Now it’s been ripped away, replaced by that cold empty place inside me. A place I know all too well.

I roll over in bed, close my eyes, and bury my head in the pillow, trying to block it out. But behind my eyelids, I see Rose. I see her out the window when she tiptoed through the snow with Kara this morning to collect eggs. I see the sharp contrast between the grimace on her face when she left and the giggles she shared with Kara when they returned through the door. I see the two of them sitting on the floor while Kara thumbed through her notebook of drawings and Rose pointed out her favorites and patiently asked questions. Kara told me this afternoon that she thinks Rose is ‘super fun for an adult.’

I remember the way she looked tonight atNelson’s, sipping her beer happily like the rest of us. I’m sure she felt wildly out of place, but she didn’t complain. She actually seemed like she enjoyed herself. Maybe, if she tried, she could fit into my world. Maybe ifItried, I could fit into hers. Maybe there’s a world that accommodates both of us. If she truly has been honest on Blindly, maybe there really was something common between us.

I can still feel her soft hands gripping her pool cue as I taught her how to shoot. The rise and fall of her shoulders beneath mine, and the curve of her ass against my hips; I lost myself for a moment then, almost touching my nose to her neck as I breathed her in. She smelled like roses. Go figure. And Ilovedit. She’s the kind of delicate beautiful reserved only for women who don’t get their hands dirty. I usually hate that, but damn she looks like every inch of her skin is as soft as a petal. And her lips…perfectly pink and full. I wonder what they taste like. I wonder how she’d react if I sucked one of them between mine. I wonder what she’d do if I wound my hand in her hair, pressed myself against her, and ground my hips into hers.

I wonder if she could ever actually want that too.

I can’t stop the fantasy, even though I know I should. So, I let it consume me tonight because it makes me feel warmth, and promise, andhope.

And I need that.

ELEVEN

Rose

Ipack my bags in silence, methodically placing my belongings neatly inside. As I slip on my flats, I run my hand across the vibrant bedspread and feel an odd pull toward this place. I’m headed for the familiarity of home, except I already miss it here.

It took me a long time to fall asleep last night. My mind wrestled with itself for hours, and more than anything, I’m justangry.

I let myself get prematurely excited about meeting a man I knew virtually nothing about. I weaved him into something perfect in my mind and let myself start to fall. After only a week.

Stupid. Stupid.

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