42. Nate

FORTY-TWO

NATE

I watch her duck and swerve through the throng of bodies. And I think about what Hannah said.

I haven't stopped thinking about what Hannah said.

How do I look at her?

Like you already love her.

I rest my hands on the tabletop to keep myself from pressing my palm over my heart.

It's impossible.

Impossible to love someone I don't even know.

But… it's Rosie.

Her deep red hair flashes as she passes under an overhead light.

It's my Rosie.

And I probably don't love her. I don't know that I've ever really loved a woman. Not like that. But there's something there.

Something I've never felt before.

Something that feels a little like destiny.

She emerges from the crowd before me.

Destiny wrapped up in a curvy little package.