Page 12 of Love Unexpected
Jade looked at Greta, a smile lighting her face. “Okay, you’re right. I see it.”
“See?” Greta said. “I told you she’d be perfect for him. Vincent thinks so, too.”
Apparently, Greta’s text to Jade had revealed a littlemorethan she’d let on.
I couldn’t decide if it was validating to have an entire team of people rooting for me or humiliating that Ineededan entire team of people rooting for me just to connect with a man. Either way, I was too far in not to see this thing through.
Jade held out her hands, palms up, and motioned for me to take them. I slipped my hands into hers, her deep brown skin a contrast to my own, and wondered where this was headed. “Rosie,” she said, “I love the idea of you and Isaac together. Truly. Forget the message. Diedre and I will have another get-together this weekend. We’ll find a way to get you two alone so you can spend some time talking.”
I pulled my hands away and shook my head. “I can’t. I...this stuff doesn’t come as naturally to me as it does to the rest of you. Plus, he’s with Bridget. That’s the whole point of doing it this way. Less pressure.”
Jade gave me a good, hard look before her shoulders finally dropped and she leaned back in Greta’s chair. “Fine. We can do it your way. Tell me more about this message. What was it, and when did you send it?”
I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. “Friday night. And it was a picture of a Red Renegadealbum cover.”
Jade pulled up her phone. “You’re saying you sent it Friday? Have you gotten a response yet?”
“No. Not yet.”
She looked up. “Are you sure?”
“I think I’d know if Isaac had responded.”
“Not from Isaac. I just mean a general form response thanking you for reaching out, blah, blah, blah.”
I grabbed my own phone off my desk and pulled up my Instagram account just to make sure, but there was nothing, no form message or otherwise. “I haven’t gotten anything,” I said again.
Jade chuckled. “Then you don’t need my help after all. We’re already responding to messages sent on Sunday, which means if you haven’t gotten the form response back, someone on the team already saw your message and decided it was worth forwarding on to Isaac. He’s probably already seen it.”
A sudden pulse of fear tightened my gut. “Really?”
“I mean, maybe not yet. But he checks them every day, usually before he films so if there’s something he wants to mention on the show, he can.”
I nodded. That made sense. I’d heard him do shout-outs to fans and viewers who had messaged him in the past.
Jade stood. “Just because he’s seen it though doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll respond. If he doesn’t, you’re going to have to try to chat him up like the interns do.”
I nodded. “Got it. Fair enough.”
She scooted out of the way, making room for Greta to drop back into her chair.
“But...” I hesitated, and Jade paused, turning back to face me. “I just...he won’t know it’s from me, right? You won’t tell him? If he doesn’t respond, I’d rather he not know I tried.”
Jade shook her head. “I got you, Rosie. I won’t tell him anything.”
Chapter Five
Isaac
@briarsandthorns: Found this image among my old posts and thought you might like it. My own interpretation of the limited-edition album in ’83. Notice the faint outline of wings behind the clouds at the top. My personal nod to “Wings that Weep,” definitely Renegade’s most under-appreciated song.
I pulled up the image that accompanied the DM my social media team had dropped into my primary inbox on Instagram. With hundreds of messages coming in a day, there was no way I could look at them all, but at least one person on the team read every single message. And when it was something they thought I’d like to see, they’d move it over.
They’d made the right call this time around. The artwork was incredible. Nuanced and emotional. I would disagree that “Wings that Weep”was the most underappreciated Renegadesong, but whoever this person was, they had wicked talent.
I pulled up the profile and looked it over. “Ana C.,” I read out loud to my empty office. “Let’s see what else you’ve done.”
I scrolled through a few more of her posts, stopping on a digital rendering of a mass of people walking on a busy street. In the middle of the crowd, one girl stood out, the colors making up her clothing and hair vibrant against the muted grays and blues of the people surrounding her. She looked totally different from anyone else, but the expression on her face said she didn’t really care. That she even liked it that way.
