Page 21 of The Man in the Cottage

"I don't know. Drinking wine. Eating food. Talking about our lives. The usual."

"That's every time we hang out."

"Yes, but this time there will be themed decorations."

She laughs, and something in my chest loosens. I've missed this. I've missed her. New York feels like a lifetime ago, and it's only been a few weeks.

"I'm in," she says. "I'll text Mona and Brit. They're going to lose their minds that you're hosting something voluntarily."

"It's not that big a deal."

"It's a huge deal. You're evolving. Growing. Becoming a person who has people over to her house."

"Don't make it weird."

"I'm absolutely going to make it weird. That's my job as your best friend." She pauses. "How are you, though? Really. How's the book? How's the house? How's the mysterious cottage man?"

I glance toward the cottage without meaning to. Travis's truck is there, but I haven't seen him since this morning when he came by for coffee. We sat at the kitchen table for an hour, talking about nothing, and then he said he had some things to take care of and left. I've been thinking about it all day. The way he looked at me when he walked in, like he was relieved I was real. The way his hand brushed mine when I passed him the sugar.

"The cottage man is fine," I say carefully.

"Fine? That's all I get? Fine?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me if he's hot. I want you to tell me if you have a crush on him. I want you to tell me literally anything interesting, because I've been stuck in this office for nine hours and I need to live vicariously through someone."

I hesitate. Nicole has been my best friend since freshman year of college. She was my roommate, my maid of honor at the wedding that never happened, the person who helped me pack up my apartment when I decided to leave New York. If I can't tell her the truth, who can I tell?

"Babe. You just described his almost-smile. You have it so bad."

I don't have a response to that. She's not wrong.

"So what are you going to do about it?" she asks.

"Nothing. I'm going to do nothing. I came here to write a book and figure out my life, not to fall for some random guy my grandmother took in."

"Sometimes life has other plans."

"Well, life can shut up."

She laughs. "Okay. So this party. February thirteenth?"

"Yeah. You'd drive down the day before, stay the night, we'd do the whole thing on the thirteenth, and then you could leave on Valentine's Day or stay another night if you want."

"I'm in. I'll text Mona and Brit." She pauses. "But Kelly—if something does happen with cottage man, I expect a full report. In detail."

"Goodbye, Nicole."

"Love you!"

"Love you too."

I hang up and sit there for a while, watching the last of the light fade from the sky. The cottage windows are glowing now, warm yellow against the blue dusk. I wonder what he's doing in there. If he's thinking about me the way I'm thinking about him.

This is probably a bad idea. I know it's probably a bad idea. But I can't seem to make myself care.

The next morning, I'm making a list.