He shrugs. “The heart wants what it wants.”
“Oh, yeah?” I set my hands on my hips. “And what does your heart want?”
Penn stops, pinning me with his stare. He’s so still, I can see him swallow, nearly see the pulse in his neck. I inhale sharply, thrown off by all that skin and his short silence and the strange, taut air between us.
“Spaghetti, meatballs, and garlic bread,” he says finally. “Hope you’re hungry, Rollergirl.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“You called yourself that. On multiple platforms.”
“Well, then I was embarrassing.”
Penn’s smile spreads slowly. “Still are,” he says, knocking on the doorframe.
He leaves, and I slouch back into my chair, gathering myself. If there’s a maximum cortisol level that any one body can handle within twenty-four hours, I must be close to hitting it.
I stare at the blinking cursor in the password box. Somewhere in the kitchen, Penn’s banging pots and pans. I glance up at the door, then back at the computer, and I try it.Rollergirl.
It doesn’t work. I try it with au.Rollergurl.
Bingo.
In celebration, I toss a Gusher into the air and catch it in my mouth, grinning. But my excitement is short-lived, because when I see his name at the top of my work inbox, my heart belly flops into my stomach.
From:Connor Reynolds
I bend toward the screen, the words blurring as I skim through not just one email, but an entire chain between Connor and me. He’sfollowing upand I’mon top of itand all our messages are cordial. Professional. Polite.
Here, Connor isn’t my ex. He’s my accountant.
My hands shake as I scroll back to his most recent message.
Hi Ruby,
I’d be happy to talk through appraisal options. Please let me know when you’re available by phone or in person to discuss next steps.
Connor Reynolds, CPA
Reynolds & Reynolds Group
I press my steepled hands to my lips, my brain struggling to catch up. Yesterday, I dropped off this man’s dry cleaning. Hemade my coffee with exactly the right amount of the overpriced almond milk that he buys for me each week. He held my hand over the middle console while we drove to Lakeville, and he didn’t complain about my sad-girl pop playlist.
But I can’t get distracted by the world I’ve left behind.
I need to focus on getting back to it.
With that in mind, I star Connor’s email, planning to reply later, and search for the word I’m looking for:Rollerworld. An email pops up:Disco Diner x Rollerworld.
Dear Ruby,
It was a pleasure speaking with you last week, and as promised, I’m following up to see if you’d like to continue our conversation. With your creativity and our strong financial position, I truly believe Rollerworld and The Disco Diner would be even better together.
Please reach out if you have any questions, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts.
All my best,
Sloane Bishop, Rollerworld
