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I place the sad leftover in the pretty pink box and affix my note to the outside.
For the guy who makes his roommate feel welcome.
I have no doubt his sweet tooth will jolt awake at the sight of a Sugar and Sips box. He’ll be salivating before he opens the lid, only to find my leftover crumbs at the bottom, along with a smaller note.
Guess you’re not that guy.
I laugh to myself as I close the box and arrange it neatly in the fridge. Now I just have to plan a fun menu for the two of us to cook tomorrow night for our first joint Monday night meal. And somehow keep my heart from getting carried away with this sweet man.
chapternineteen
Callahan
Jolene has had me chuckling to myself all day. Not sure how she manages it. We haven’t spoken in person for five days. But here I am, replaying her cinnamon-bun stunt, probably with a goofy smile on my face as I hop in my truck and press the ignition, checking the time on my phone for the tenth time in the last half hour.
It’s Monday. It’s been Monday since I woke up this morning. Not a revelation, but tonight’s the night Jo and I are finally cookingtogether, as per her suggestion. I swear the clock has been ticking backward.Notbecause I’m excited to get home and move around her in the kitchen as we tease each other in person. I’m simply curious what menu she has planned.
A knock on my window makes me jump. Jake motions at me to roll it down.
I comply and lift the brim of my ball cap. “What’s up?”
“I spoke to Jo the other day. Seems like she’s been crazy busy with work.” He looks down at something in his hands I can’t see, then he shoves an envelope through the window. “Can you give this to her for me?”
The idea of reaching for it makes my frown muscles kick in. “Why don’t you drop it over yourself?”
“It’s nothing big. Just a note asking her out to the drive-in next Monday.”
Since Jo admitted she never loved Jake, I’ve thought hard on my cupid efforts. Analyzed the way she’s acted around him, and her reactions when he’s been mentioned.
My unfortunate hypothesis: Jo isn’t currently open to dating Jake.
I haven’t told him as much. Our disappearance hurt Jolene, and their history is apparently rife with miscommunication. It doesn’t mean the people they are now wouldn’t click. Jake is handsome and kind and would treat her like gold. If he shows her how much he’s changed, he might win her over. But that outcome isn’t certain, and Jolene’s happiness is too important to me to push her into a situation she doesn’t want.
As such, I’ve decided to step away from my match-making endeavors. Jolene will tell Jake she’s not interested in her own time or Jake will change her mind and win her over. Either way, I won’t be involved. Leaving the outcome to chance has me edgy, but if I push one way or the other, one of the two most important people in my life will be unhappy.
Now Jake is giving me an envelope, shoving me back exactly where I don’t want to be—between my brother and my best friend.
I grab the envelope and force a calm smile. “I’ll give it to her tonight.”
He crosses his arms and fidgets. “She’s doing okay?”
“Work seems to be stressing her, but she’s good. Not that I’ve seen her much lately.”
I don’t mention that we’ve been leaving each other food and notes, or that we’re cooking dinner together tonight. I mean, we’re just roommates. If I lived with Javier or Ben, I wouldn’t wax on about our dinner menus and evening schedule. Still, the unsaid words ferment in my gut, turning into something unpleasant.
Jake nods and struts to his truck.
I quickly drop the note onto my passenger seat, like holding it any longer would burn my skin.
My drive home is chaotic. Every time I think about walking into my place to find Jo at the counter prepping for our planned meal, I press harder on the gas. When I glance at the note, my stomach twists and I ease my foot off.
Fast. Slow. Heart racing but beating erratically.
By the time I park at the curb, I’m off-balance. I look at the small duplex where I live. The upper half of the cute green home is mine. I can’t see through the curtained windows, but Jo’s truck is on the street. She’s inside organizing or chopping or cooking—doing something for the night she planned for us. Friends doing nicefriendstuff.
For some idiotic reason, I snatch up my phone and call E.
“You okay?” he asks when he answers.
