Hayley:
No update on Cletus yet. Levi didn’t get a chance to look him over yesterday, but I think he plans to today.
Martha:
Keep us posted.
Evangeline:
Speaking of Levi ...
I have honestly never met another person so in love with love than Evangeline Kelly. Even when the woman thought no one would ever look at her with hearts in their eyes the way my cousin does, she still wouldn’t give up on romance, determined instead to try her hand at matchmaking the library’s patrons, unbeknownst to them. She’s being about as subtle as mud right now with her leading inquiry.
Hayley:
What about him?
I smirk down at my phone. My evasiveness will really dill her pickle.
Evangeline:
Don’t be obtuse.
Martha:
While this is all highly entertaining, some of us have work to do. Pete the Cat and his groovy buttons are going to help me teach number concept to the littlest patrons today. TTYL
Thank you, Martha, for that perfect excuse not to answer. Also, I didn’t realize how late it is if it’s already story time at the library. My little snooze from what I need to do is now over.
Hayley:
I need to go too. I’ll check in whenever I have service so you’re not haunted by the possibility of me being your grandfather’s next basement showcase.
Evangeline:
I appreciate that.
I set my phone back down and push off the covers.
Oh! Maybe I did have a moment of character amnesia after all because I’d forgotten about not changing out of Levi’s shirt before I went to bed. In my defense, the flannel is very comfortable, like it’s been washed at least a hundred times with the world’s best fabric softener. There’s no way I’m going to step foot outside of this room in only his shirt, though. It’s hard defining boundaries when you have no choice but to cross all the normal ones. I’m sleeping in the room next to him. Eating his food. Using his soap, shampoo, and deodorant. The least I can do is not crawl into his clothes as well.
For both our sakes.
I find an actual dress in the bottom of the laundry basket. This time the piece of clothing has a floral print with little pearl buttons marching in a straight line down the front. The statistical probability that this dress is another of Levi’s shirts is exactly zero. I did not do the math, nor do I need to as the dress gathers under my breasts in a ruched empire waist before falling around the rest of my body in a swish of fabric.
I finger-comb my hair, wincing when my index finger snags on a particularly tangled knot. My hair is fine, which means it’s soft and silky to the touch, but also means that it gets tangled really easily. If I don’t get my hands on a real brush, I’m going to be well on my way to sporting dreadlocks by the time the rockslide gets cleared.
I throw on my only pair of shoes, then crack open the door, pausing. I don’t hear anything coming from any other part of the house. I pad across the hall to the bathroom and quickly brush my teeth. My steps are slow but sure as I walk into the living room and then the kitchen.
No Levi. He must have gone down to his shop to start work for the day.
A sliver of disappointment wedges under my skin like a splinter. I shake my head as if the physical movement will shake off the feeling as well. No part of me should have even entertained the thought that he’d do anything other than go about his business as usual. Hadn’t he made himself abundantly clear the day before?
I lift my gaze and visually trip over an envelope with my name written in sloppy, slanted letters on the kitchen counter. Trepidation skitters across my shoulders as I pick up the envelope and pluck out the college-ruled notebook paper trifolded within.
Levi wrote me a letter? I should worry that it’s an eviction notice, but even though I just met the man the day before, I already know he isn’t someone who would leave another person stranded, no matter how much of a burden or how much that other person gets on his nerves.
I unfold the letter and begin to read. Or try to. His handwriting isreallyatrocious.
