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I try to keep my racing heartbeat in check. “It’s…too soon for all that, but we admitted our feelings to each other.”
“I’m so glad to see you this happy, Rosie. When I told Mom about Oscar and Zander, I think she had a small heart attack.” Kristy chuckles before sipping the delectable wine.
“Really? What did you tell Sophia about Zander?” I hold my breath in anticipation.
“Just that he’s our boss and one of the hottest bachelors.” Kristy grins. “Mom asked me to mail her pictures of both of them.”
She rests her wineglass on the rug and some of the excitement drains from her voice.
“Can you imagine that she’s managed to survive in this world of technology without any electronic device other than her nineties cell phone, which doesn’t even have internet access?”
I don’t know how to reply to Kristy’s question. Sophia’s technology abhorrence has never been clear to me.
“Sometimes I wonder how different our lives would be if Dad were still with us. How he’d have reacted when I told him about Oscar.”
Her question prompts me to think about my own father; something I seldom do. Maybe he’d have the talk with Zander, sitting in some big study in a big chair near a fireplace with a glass of Scotch.
My odd trail of thoughts is broken when Kristy throws her phone in my face with a Pinterest board on display.
The vintage wedding.
Her inspiration.
She raves for two hours about her opulent wedding plans. But toward the end, her eyes start to get heavy. It’s comical to see her trailing off, dozing for few seconds until she startles and continues rambling. Finally, I have to force her to go to bed with a promise that I’ll listen to all her plans tomorrow.
I place a glass of water by my nightstand and change into my blue T-shirt and matching bottoms. With my phone in hand, I jump onto the bed. There are three texts from Zander waiting for me.
Zander: You weren’t lying about not knowing how to cook, couch girl.
Below the text is a picture of a soggy sandwich.
Crab! It had too much mustard.
Zander: But I finished it.
And in the next picture, he’s wolfing down that last bite. His hands are messy, and I can see the hint of a yellow stain on his white shirt.
Several minutes later, there’s another text.
Zander: Call me when you can.
I press the green button adjacent to his name, and he picks up after two rings.
“Hey,” Zander coos in a sleepy voice.
“Were you asleep?” I get under the covers and tuck the comforter under me from the sides.
“I think so.” I hear the rustling of fabric as he most likely sits upright. “I worked a bit on tomorrow’s meeting, and then I transferred your pictures from the carnival to my iPad. This way, I could see you on a larger frame. I don’t remember when I fell asleep while watching you. What were you doing?”
The thought of him looking at my pictures makes my heart soar with its wings spread open. I lick my dry lips before replying, “Kristy and I celebrated her engagement with wine and pizza. Then she told me her grand plans for the wedding.”
He chuckles. “I’m happy for her and Oscar.”
“Yes, me too, and also for Charlie. I am sorry about the sandwich, though.”
“It’s no problem, couch girl. You’re lucky I know my way around the kitchen.”
“Really?” I can’t imagine Zander in a kitchen. Actually, it’s hard to imagine his tall, broad form covered in impeccable suits doing anything other than boardroom meetings.
