Page 74 of Love Unexpected
“I’m here,” I said faintly. “I got his message.”
“Well, what did he say? I just told him to send one. I didn’t make him show it to me.”
“It says he isn’t disappointed.”
“That’s it?” Mom said.
“Yes, but there’s context. Because I messaged him when I left Nashville and told him I thought he would be.”
“Why would you do a thing like that?” Mom asked.
I quickly gave Mom a rundown of everything that happened in Nashville, only leaving out the intensity of the kiss. It had only been the night before, and yet, kissing Isaac in Marley’s living room felt lifetimes away. So much had changed since then.
“Tell me something, Rosie,” Mom said, her tone soft. “Did you tell Isaac you thought he’d be disappointed because you’re you? Or was it becauseyoudon’t want him?”
Leave it to Mom to distill the complexities of my heart into one simple question.
“I don’t know. I think Idowant him. I’m just... scared, you know? His life is... it’s just a lot.”
“But everyone’s is in some way or another, isn’t it?”
I leaned my head back on the dusty cushion. “How do you mean?”
“I just mean everyone has to deal with something. If you were to marry a surgeon, for example, you’d have to deal with his crazy schedule, with long shifts and weekends on call. You marry a police officer or a firefighter, and you’re worried about their safety, hoping they come home at the end of each shift. If you’re a military spouse, you’re enduring deployments and moving every couple of years. I guess you could find yourself a boring accountant who just sits in a cubicle all day, but I promise he’d have something to throw you off, too. A health condition, or a bad snoring habit, or, I don’t know, something. And let’s not pretend like marrying you will be a plate of cupcakes. With your anxiety? It’ll take someone special to take you on.”
“Gee, thanks, Mom.”
“I’m just saying. Every relationship takes work. Sacrifice. You have to find the person who feels worth the struggle.”
Her argument made sense. I couldn’t deny that a big part of my hesitation with Isaac had always been fear. But at the same time, the thought of walking away from him completely—and not just from the road trip—that felt even scarier. “What if it’s too late?”
“Pish,” Mom said, her tone light. “He just told you he isn’t disappointed. Why would he have said that if it’s too late?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he isn’t disappointed, but he still just wants to be friends.”
Mom huffed out a breath, sounding as though she wanted to say something else but swallowed the words instead. “I promised I wouldn’t say anything and so I won’t,” she finally said. “But don’t get yourself worked up, Rosie. Just be patient. This is all going to work out.”
As luck would have it, I didn’t have to be patient long. Late Sunday night, while I debated whether or not I had the courage to actually show up to work on Monday morning, my phone rang.
“Oh good, you’re still awake,” Greta said, as soon as I answered the phone.
“Hopefully not for too much longer,” I said. “Also, I’m probably going to work from home tomorrow, just FYI.”
“Stop talking about work,” she said shortly. “I need you to come down to the warehouse.”
“What? It’s almost midnight.”
“I realize that. I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important. Just hurry. And come wearing something other than pajamas. Okay, love you, bye!”
I stared at my phone, as if expecting it to explain everything that Greta had left out of her phone call. This could only have something to do with Isaac.
I did the math, calculating back the number of hours that had passed since he’d last been at my parents’ house. According to Mom, he’d left her house a little after ten p.m. on Saturday night. Twenty-four hours was plenty of time to drive back home, but they would have had to drive all night. Of course, he could have caught a flight. But then he would have been home much sooner than twenty-four hours. That thought brought little comfort. Because I still hadn’t heard from him.
A text from Greta popped up on my phone.Stop overthinking. Just come. I promise you won’t be sorry.
I powered through my nerves and forced myself to get ready, choosing my outfit carefully. Greta had said not to wear pajamas, but I wasn’t about to wear anything that wasn’t casual. Not at midnight. I slipped on my most comfortable jeans and my favorite Red Renegade v-neck, then pulled on my royal blue blazer with the cropped sleeves. I stood and looked into the full-length mirror that hung beside my bedroom door. I looked cute. Confident. Like myself. That was the most I could hope for.
Greta was waiting for me outside the warehouse. “You okay?” She asked.
