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Chapter Twenty-Three

T ate

Me: I need help.

I lean against the bathroom doorframe and watch Aurora sleep. I’ve never seen someone so peaceful. Not that I’ve ever watched someone else sleep.

It was hard for me to get out of bed and climb into the shower. What am I going to do when she wants to go back to her house? How do people handle this?

Why won’t she just marry me now?

My screen lights up.

Astrid: Weird bat call.

Me:

Astrid: What do you want?

Me: About 50 candles delivered to my house, please. I think I like amber and vanilla. Does that sound right?

Astrid: How in the world would I know what scents you like?

“I should’ve written that down somewhere,” I mumble.

Me: Go with that. Feel free to wing it with other stuff, too.

I glance up at my blueberry-stained sheets.

Me: I like blueberry.

Astrid: I officially know more than I ever wanted to know about you.

Me: You could sell that information.

Astrid: Oh my God.

Me: Can you have someone put them in one of my closets?

Astrid: Any specific closet?

Me: Nah. Whatever.

Aurora moves, the sheets slipping across her body. She’s so soft and delicate. I just want to protect her—to keep anything bad from ever happening to her. Again.

My jaw clenches as I turn back to my phone.

Astrid: Anything else while I’m doing the most random shit for you today?

Me: Yes. Thanks for asking. I need “fuzzy” blankets. Just toss them throughout the house.

Astrid: Size? Shape? Colors? Textures?

Me: Assorted. Assorted. Assorted but not white. Cozy.

Astrid: SO HELPFUL. Due date?

Me: Tonight by six-ish?

Astrid: I don’t get paid enough for this.

Me: I’ll get you a raise. All you have to do is ask. (I’m not Gannon.)

Astrid: Bye, Tate.

Me:

I glance at Aurora one final time, then finish getting ready for work.