Page 72 of Love Unexpected
Tyler nodded. “You do.”
“I have to find her. Tell her. ..” I sighed. “Man, I wish she was here right now. That she could just see—”
“That she reduced you to a crying, sniveling snotface that can’t stop grinning like a lovesick fool?” Tyler said dryly.
“Thanks for that, man. Really.”
He grinned. “All I’m saying is she was pretty pissed when she left Nashville. I’ve got the footage, and your tears may work to your advantage.Especiallyif you show itaftera montage of clips showing all the ways the two of you connected over the past twenty-four hours.”
“You think I should make her a video?”
He shrugged. “Or just edit your road trip video with Rosie instead of Ana in mind. It could still be about connections. Just not the connection you expected.”
“That’s good,” I said, pacing back and forth in front of the dresser. “Except, it doesn’t need to be the regular segment. I don’t want anyone to see it unless Rosie is comfortable with it. This video isn’t going to be about the viewers. It’s just going to be about her.”
“Knock, knock,” Mrs. Crenshaw said from the bedroom door. She held a tray holding a plate of cookies and two tall glasses of milk. “Sorry to interrupt. I was just waiting downstairs and when you didn’t come back down right away, I thought you must be having a very serious conversation and thought you might need a snack.”
I smiled. Ana’s mom—no, Rosie’s mom—was exactly as she had described her.She is warmth personified,she had once messaged.And she loves best through casseroles and cookies.
I crossed the room and took the tray from her hands, setting it on the dresser beside the camera. I turned back to face her, trusting that immediately pulling her into a hug was a gesture she would understand and reciprocate. She patted my back in a warm, motherly way. “There, there,” she said.
When I finally released her from the hug, she looked up and studied my face. “I take it those were tears of joy that made your eyes all red?”
“Mrs. Crenshaw, can I tell you something?”
She nodded. “Of course, dear.”
I took hold of her shoulders. “I am desperately in love with your daughter.”
“Well that’s a relief,” she said. “Because she’s been in love with you for years.”
We stayed with Rosie’s mom—her dad was out of town on a business trip—for another couple of hours, enjoying the cookies and milk and then, when she discovered we’d skipped dinner, a casserole she pulled out of the freezer and warmed up for us.
“Please tell me you’re going to call her as soon as you leave here,” Mrs. Crenshaw said as Tyler packed up his gear. “I’m sure she’s beside herself with worry.”
“Actually, I think I’m going to wait and talk to her in person.”
Mrs. Crenshaw’s hand flew to her heart. “Oh, you can’t do that. Her anxiety will eat her up if she has to wait all that time. You know about her anxiety, don’t you? Has she been honest with you about that?”
She hadn’t, really. Though we’d danced around the topic in our messages a few times. Hearing her mother mention it so plainly explained a lot. Why she’d been so hesitant to meet me in person. To tell me who she was. But then, Rosie in person hadn’t seemed anxious at all. She’d been easygoing and chill. Or at least, she’d seemed that way. Though I knew enough about anxiety to know that what I saw on the outside wasn’t necessarily a reflection of what she was feeling on the inside.
“She hasn’t told me much, actually. I guess I’ve still got a lot to learn.”
Mrs. Crenshaw nodded. “She’s good at hiding it.”
“But, when we were driving, she didn’t seem... she seemed so... relaxed, I guess?”
Mrs. Crenshaw raised a hand to my cheek and a bolt of longing for my own mom shot through me. I owed my parents a visit. They lived too close for it to have been so long since I’d last seen them. “She’s come a long way. She manages it well, only dealing with flare-ups every once in a while. When she’s with people that make her feel accepted and loved, she opens right up. I expect you did that for her.”
I nodded. I didn’t want Rosie anxious and worried. But I also didn’t want to have the conversation brewing in my head over the phone. But maybe I could say something, give her some indication that regardless of whatshewanted—I might lose sleep if I spent too much time worrying about that—I was in with a capitalI.
I pulled out my phone and scrolled to the Instagram thread where we’d been messaging for the past month. I reread her last message, the one where she’d told me she was pretty sure I was going to be disappointed. She’d sent it minutes after leaving Nashville.
I typed out a quick message and sent it before I could overthink it. “There,” I said, smiling at Rosie’s mom. “That should hopefully set her mind at ease until I’m back in town.”
“Good man,” she said, giving my arm a quick squeeze. “Now hurry home.”
She didn’t have to ask me twice.
