68. Nate

SIXTY-EIGHT

NATE

Charles greets me at the door, and as soon as my shoes are off, I bend down and scoop him up.

He meows.

"I know. I like her too."

He bumps his chin against my chest.

"I'll text her. Just not yet."

Charles lets out a scratchy meow.

I sigh. "I'm not playing games. If anyone is playing games, it's Rosie." I shift Charles in my arms and stride toward my bedroom. "It's like she can't just be happy around me. I get these moments. These glimpses of her smiles, two seconds of a laugh, but then she's back to being shuttered."

The furry body in my arms rumbles with a purr.

"I don't know what the deal is."

Charles purrs louder.

"Dude, I said I'd text her."

He kneads his front paws against my chest, and I change my grip to hold him at arm's length.

"Fine. You win."

I set Charles down on the bed and pull my phone out of my pocket.