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The way her voice had changed from lighthearted to serious concerned me.
“Okay,” I replied. I couldn’t come up with one thing that she could tell me that she needed to pull the best-friend card on.
“Ugh, I am trying to figure out how to start. I’m tired of avoiding you. I miss you. I want to talk to you. I just know I have to tell you this before it eats me alive,” she said.
She had been avoiding me? What in the world was this about?
“Quinn, there is nothing you could tell me that would upset me.”
A short, unamused laugh came over the line. “I am hoping that’s true.”
“Spill it. Get it over with. Then, we can talk about life. I want to know all that’s going on with you,” I told her.
“Well, that’s kinda what this is about. All that is going on with me. My life.”
She was silent for a moment, and I let her think. Clearly, this was bothering her. Whatever it was, she had worked herself up over it.
“Genesis,” she said firmly.
“Yes?” I asked, unable not to smile at the seriousness in her tone.
“I’m dating … Bowie,” she blurted out, then sucked in a breath.
That, I had not been expecting. Not even a tiny little guess. Holy crap.
A bubble of laughter burst out of me as a grin spread across my face.
“You’re laughing. Is that an angry-psycho laugh or a this is great news laugh?”
“It’s a I was so not expecting that, but I think it’s great laugh,” I replied.
“You do?”
“Yes! Bowie is a great guy. He was just never the right guy for me.”
“Oh, thank you, baby Jesus. I have lost sleep over this. I was so afraid you were going to be hurt that I’d started dating him and not even asked for your permission.”
“Permission? Why would you think you had to do that?”
“Girl code. You were engaged to him, and three weeks after y’all broke it off, I went on a date with him. I broke all the girl codes ever written.”
I walked over and sat down on a lounge chair, then leaned back. “Tell me all about it. I want to know how it happened,” I told her, unable to get the smile off my face.
“Well, he came over one night, asking if he had left a book in your old room. He thought it was in the closet. I knew there was nothing of yours left here, but I let him in …”
Thirty-Three
Kye
Where are you?
I glanced down at the text from Genesis. While she’d been in the shower, I’d snuck out of the room to take Jagger to Trinity and get things set up for my surprise.
Last room on the left.
Down the hall?
Yes. Come here.
I sent the text, grinning, then watched the door, waiting on her.
When the knob turned and the door opened, I was standing in the middle of the room. It had taken me two weeks to get it set up for her. She paused and took in the room. I could see confusion and excitement flicker in her eyes.
“What do you think?” I asked her, hoping I’d gotten it all.
Quinn had been a big help. I owed her one.
Genesis walked over to the organized shelves, filled with everything I’d been told she’d want, need, and get giddy over.
She swung her gaze back to me. “Kye, what is this?”
I grinned. “Baby Doll, if you don’t know what this stuff is, then you might want to rethink your future.”
She shook her head and laughed. “I know what this stuff is, but whose is it? It’s”—she waved her hands out wide—“like a designer’s wonderland. It has everything. That sewing machine is what dreams are made of. I’ve been saving for one for over two years. And the rolls of fabric—where did they even come from? That’s expensive stuff. You don’t go get fabric like that from just any store. It’s special-ordered.” Then, she pointed at the shelves. “And that. The buttons alone are insane. I’ve not even looked through all the other containers. I can’t imagine what is all in there.”
Thank you, Quinn. She’d been right about the sewing machine and the fabric.
I closed the distance between us. “This is your new sewing room, Baby Doll. You can sketch on those pads there or use that computer there to draw them digitally. The programs you need are already loaded. You can make those amazing designs you come up with right across the hall from Jagger’s nursery.”
Her eyes went wide, and her pretty heart-shaped mouth fell open. “Mine? This? That sewing machine? The fabric? This?” She pointed at the floor, gaping at me. “This is all mine?”
I nodded. “All yours.”
She shook her head. “What nursery?” she asked me then.
Jagger had been sleeping in a crib in our bedroom.
I pointed across the hallway. “Levi and Aspen are moving to the top floor for now. Until he’s ready to build a house. Their room will be empty by the end of the week. You get to decorate Jagger’s nursery however you want.”
