Page 26 of You Again

“Four brownies—” Sienna stops short when she sees me. “You brought friends.”

I nod. “Very married friends.”

“I’m not married,” Lucca says, and Sienna perks up for only a second. “But I am very much attached.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Figures,” she says, dropping the plate of baked goods onto the table in front of us.

Twelve

Deep in the pool of my current main male character’s cologne—a character whose name I might have forgotten—I sip on my lemonade, eyes on my book. A late June breeze from the café patio wafts past me, rustling my hair.

I’m so engrossed that I don’t even realize he’s there, until that cologne is real. Present. Almost tangible.

“Ahem.” Zev clears his throat. He’s standing right next to me, flowers in hand. “Hey,” he says.

“Oh.” My brows lower. “Hey.” I can’t help it. My eyes drop to the small bouquet in his hands.

Not flowers. Flowers do not say friends. And not daisies. Daisies turn me into a swooning Meg March.

“I can’t stay. And I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.” He gulps down a nervous swallow. “But you’re new in town, and I want you to feel welcomed. So—” He holds out the small bundle of daisies… and I know what I’ll be rereading next. “And I thought you might like this.” His other hand holds out a book that I had assumed to be his.

I clamp down on my bottom lip and take the book from his hands, leaving him to set the daisies on the table. It’s clearly a children’s book. Maybe I gave him the wrong idea with my love for Return to Saigon. It is a book—he pays attention—but I’m not usually into children’s reads. “The Invisible Boy. Never heard of it.”

“I’m guessing that, with a few exceptions, you don’t read middle grade novels anymore.”

“That would be a good guess.” I’m not trying to sound ungrateful, but I’m also trying really hard not to give Zev the wrong idea here.

“I figured. But I had a good feeling about this one. I think you’ll like it more than you realize.”

I stir in my seat. “Thanks, Zev. That was thoughtful of you. Unnecessary. But thoughtful.”

He shoves both hands into his pockets. “Just a welcome gift from one new friend to the other.”

I exhale.

“Goodbye, Rose.”

And then, true to his word, he’s gone.

I glance at the flowers and book on my passenger seat before hauling them into my house. Grammy is going to have a heyday with this. And I might need to prepare myself to hear her opinion.

I pull in a long breath through my nostrils and gather up the gifts that Zev has no business giving me.

Then again, what kind of woman hates flowers? Sure, they’ll die in three days, but he chose daisies and he paired them with a book. I made it clear at the bookstore that I’m not interested in a relationship. Maybe Zev gives all his new friends gifts. He specifically said from one friend to another.

I steel myself and turn the knob of our tiny house.

Grammy’s sitting in our small living room, toe tapping to some country tune I’ve never heard before. “You’re back,” she says.

“Yeah.”

“And you brought flowers.” Her thin brows lift, her button nose crinkling with a smile.

“Yeah. That man from the café—he brought them to me. And this.” I hold up the book. “It’s a children’s book. He knows I read romance. He sees me there every single Monday. But he brought me a kids’ book. And look,” I say, confessing everything in the span of one breath. Apparently, I do want to know what Grammy has to say about this. I open the front of the hardbound book to the blank front page.

She takes it from my hand and reads Zev’s note. “Rosalie, I think you’ll like this one. It just might change your life. Love, Zev Hayes.” Grammy’s eyes lift to mine. “Is that his phone number?”

“Yes. He brought me a gift and wrote his number in the book and—” I flap my arms at my sides. “What do I do?”