Says the girl who hasn’t had a guy treat her right ever, well, not until Merc…
Griffin seems to wake up as my sister sits on the bed. His hands clench on top of the covers, but he doesn’t touch her, and she doesn’t take his hand or anything.
It seems oddly formal. Distant.
But what do I know? All these months I thought they had grown closer again, but from what Sophie told me today, and from what I see, I’m not so sure anymore.
My sister talks to him quietly. He says nothing in return.
I hang back to give them some privacy, leaning against the window sill. Outside, the day is gray and dark. Cars roll down the street below, the stick figures of pedestrians seem to float down a lazy stream, carried beyond salvation.
And… the prize for the most morbid imagination goes to yours truly.
My thoughts are too loud in the quiet. I want to shut the world out for a few moments—and didn’t someone tell me that recently? A certain blond and hot someone, standing in his kitchen, grinning down at me.
Stop thinking about Merc.
I can spend a day without him, right? Without thinking about him and pining for him.
Sighing, I pull out my phone, push the earbuds into my ears and hit play on my Spotify app. Closing my eyes, I shove the phone into my purse.
Then I gasp and flail as screaming voices and thunder assault me. “Holy shit!” I jerk the buds out of my ears. “What was that?”
Disapproving faces turn toward me. Someone from a bed to my left shushes me.
Whoa. I press a hand to my heart and slump back. I’d expected my travel music mix, and instead got… “Noisy Heaven” by Beach Slang?
What? That’s not my playlist. That’s Merc’s music.
Lifting my phone from my purse, I stare at the screen and can’t believe my eyes. That… idiot. He wouldn’t… He didn’t!
He did.
He made me a playlist called Merc Rocks.
Laughter bursts out of me before I can stop it, and I clap a hand over my mouth. Oh my frigging God, he did.
Bastard. That funny, sexy bastard. I want to hear his voice, tell him about my day, about my sister and Griffin and ask how he’s been.
I’m dialing his number before I can double guess myself again.
We only have one life, right?
His phone rings and rings, and uncertainty digs its claws in. No reason why. We only talked yesterday, everything was fine. I wonder when I will ever get out of that rut where I think every guy I like will suddenly turn cold and dump me without an explanation—or with an explanation that will break me open and stomp on me until I’m reduced to dust.
When I’ll find that elusive sense of trust that’s so easy to shatter and so hard to rebuild.
He picks up on the sixth ring. “Hello?” He sounds out of breath.
“It’s me. Cosima. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Hey,” he says, voice warming. “No, I was chasing after my nephews. What’s up, pretty girl?”
Oh God, he’s babysitting? Just imagining him with kids hurts my ovaries, in a good way.
“I’m okay,” I hedge. It’s so good to hear his voice. It’s like a hug, and I feel like I could use a hug right now. “Just thought to give you a call.”
“Right.” He’s silent for a beat. Then, “What’s wrong?”