Page 30 of Follow Your Bliss

I sat up and sorted through all the notifications. The storm made that significant jog to the east overnight and strengthened into a strong category one hurricane, projected to make landfall on the Louisiana coast as a category three tomorrow morning with huge storm surges expected.

Alex already left with his girlfriend. Mom and Dad evacuated this morning with Becca and Brad to Arkansas, so Mom said I could still use the Florida condo for my trip.

Shit. A few hours ago would’ve been the ideal time to evacuate. I threw on a shirt and sandals. Now that I had a renter, what did I do about evacuating? Some of my big trees were ticking time bomb water oaks that I hadn’t taken down yet. The kind that tipped over, roots and all, in a bad storm. I didn’t have my solar powered generator installed yet. No way would I get stuck here without air conditioning, not with the one-hundred-eighteen-degree heat indexes we’d been having.

I headed toward the rectory. Last night when I walked out of the bathroom, Rose was already asleep over the covers, her body wrapped around a long pillow. I’d watched her for the few seconds it took to pull the bathroom door closed quietly, making sure I didn’t disturb her. Her sleep shorts exposed her whole leg, the slant of the bathroom light illuminating a butterfly tattoo on her ankle I hadn’t seen before, and the ceiling fan gently ruffled her hair in the dark. And that jerk in New York City not only dumped her, but cheated on her. How could he do that to a literal angel? I both wanted to punch him and shield her from anyone ever hurting her again.

If she were my girlfriend, I’d treat her like the goddess she was. We’d spent a lot of time together this week, and the more I got to know her, the more I desired her. She wasn’t just sexy and beautiful; she was smart and fun. She made magic with silky fabrics, and she even showed promise as a woodworker. When I laid down every night after spending time with her, my cheeks hurt from all the laughter.

And my body ached from wanting her. After last night, though—I rubbed my whole face. Knowing she was single was a brand-new kind of torture. Unless she was just a shameless flirt, she was attracted to me, too. But our outlooks on love hadn’t changed. I was looking for my forever, and her last relationship was only about sex. If that was all she wanted, then pursuing her was a bad idea on so many levels.

So why did she feel like home?

I stopped and knelt before the statue of St. Dorothy in the courtyard. Patron saint of florists, brides, and newlyweds.St. Dorothy,I prayed silently,I don’t know what I’m doing here. I really, really like Rose. She’s an amazing person. I don’t expect anything from her, and her friendship means the world to me. She just broke up with her boyfriend, and I’m not a vulture. She’s probably not even interested. But…I studied St. Dorothy’s face, serenely smiling at me, as if encouraging me to go on.She just feels so right. I’m having a hard time letting it go, even though I probably should. Would you give me a sign if seeing if she’s interested is a good idea, for both of us? Seriously, any sign. And please keep us and our families safe in the hurricane. Amen.

I brushed off my knees and went in the kitchen door. Music played from down the hallway.

“Morning, Rose!”

“Morning!” she called back.

“Can I come talk to you?”

“Sure!”

I found her in her workroom, cutting out fabric on her new worktable. My heart backflipped seeing her so happily using something we made together. How fun would it be to make more with her?

“Have I told you lately that I love this table?” she asked, her silver scissors slicing through silky white fabric. Her curls defied last night’s straightening, poking out from another bun wrapped on top of her head.

“I’m glad!” I leaned against the wall to watch her work. She’d been the only bright spot in a week full of aggravations, like running into that costly pipe-routing problem in the choir loft bathroom construction and worrying about whether Big Dick Tools would officially offer. The plans for my community room had consumed me this week, too. I tried to make progress designing it on Wednesday, but all I got for my trouble was dozens of discarded attempts littering the floor that I couldn’t bring myself to throw away.

I’d gone straight to talk to Rose about it and found her cooking red beans because she remembered me saying I’d been craving them. And she reassured me that I’d not only figure out the community room puzzle, but I’d knock it out of the park. Later that day she popped up in my bathroom construction and went nuts over my tile selections and smooth sheetrock, making me feel like the god of reno.

Such simple things, but they were things I’d been starved for.

“Have you seen the weather?” I asked. “Hurricane Oscar’s coming for us. Are you evacuating?”

She glanced up from her work. “No, I don’t like evacuating. My family called in the middle of the night to ask me to go with them, but I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“I really think we should go this morning.” I stepped away from the doorframe. When did she and I becomewein my head? “That thing’s gonna be a direct hit over the New Orleans area, and I’ve got all these big trees—”

She sighed heavily, looking around at piles of fabric as she grabbed her pin cushion. “You can go, but I’m gonna stay. I have so much to do, and I can’t afford to lose any more time.”

“You can’t get any sewing done if we lose power, right?”

“Fair point, but I’ll get more done than if I leave, for sure. I’ll be fine, really. I don’t have a car anyway, so I’m kinda stuck here.”

“Come with me,” I blurted. “I’m already going to Florida, and I have room in my car.”

“Oh my God, no! I’ve already used up all my favors with you, remember? And most of these turn out to be nothing. When I lived with Heather, she used to talk us into evacuating for every little storm. We’d drive to Baton Rouge or someplace for the weekend, and I’d spend the next week playing catch-up.” She carried the fabric to her sewing machine.

“But what if a tree comes down on your apartment? What if the power goes out for weeks, and nobody can get in or out because of flooding?”

The hum of her sewing machine continued. “I’ll be fine.”

Why hadn’t I watched her sew before? It was mesmerizing watching the needle go up and down, a neat seam outputting from the back of the machine. “Rose, please come with me? I don’t want you to be alone if something happens.”

Her fingers poised over a folded hem. She shifted her leg off the foot pedal, and the machine stopped. “To Florida? I don’t want to impose on your vacation.”

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