Page 76 of More Than Pen Pals

“Yes?”

“I got your letter.”

My eyes widen. “Already?”

“Indeed. And I’m looking forward to meeting Shannon.”

My smile grows bigger. “I’m glad.”

“I’ve blocked next Saturday evening off on my calendar.”

Heat fills my chest at his proclamation. “Is it okay if I invite Wendy? I think she’ll provide a good distraction in case things get tense with my brother.”

“You’re not afraid she’ll try to jump him right there in the restaurant?” he teases.

I chuckle. “Maybe. But he can handle her. So you’re fine with it?”

“Of course. And one more thing.” He’s silent for a moment. “Do you know Wendy called and told Randall about Glenn?”

“Yes.” But I didn’t know if Randall told Ash.

“I know we’re not supposed to talk about him, but I wanted to let you know that I know. And I didn’t think Wendy would tell my brother without your permission, but I thought you should be aware on the off chance that’s not the case.”

“I knew she was planning on it. I felt a little juvenile letting my friend share the news, but I didn’t know how to go about telling you myself.”

“Randall was prepared to ask her about it if she hadn’t made the first move, so you’re not the only juvenile here.”

I smile. “Good to know.”

* * *

Of course I can’t focus for the next two hours, knowing I’m about to see Ash in person. I pull my notes out of my briefcase and add a few details, but mostly my thoughts stray to Ash. I wonder how much longer we should wait. I know with full certainty I don’t want to be with Glenn anymore. But how soon is too soon?

Finally, my clock reads three o’clock, and right on cue, a knock sounds on my door. I should get up and open it, but my legs have decided to stop working.

“Come in,” I say in a shaky voice.

The door opens to reveal Ash. He’s wearing the navy blue suit again—or at leastanavy blue suit. He probably has more than one. I want him to have a million.

My body is attempting to melt into my chair. I couldn’t move even if the room was on fire … and it feels like it is.

“Hi. Take a seat,” I say. I would motion to a chair, but I can’t.

He chooses the purple chair, which surprises me, but then I realize it’s much larger than the other one. I watch his every movement as he slides the chair right up to my desk, slips his suit coat off, sits, and pulls a notebook and pen out of his briefcase. The scent of cinnamon wafts my way, and my eyes drift shut.

“Ready?” he asks.

My eyes pop open. What am I supposed to be ready for?

“Leslie? You all right?”

I give myself a little shake. “Yes.” No. I can’t function with him sitting close enough to touch.

Can I touch him?

No.

Yes.

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