Page 51 of If Love Had A Manual

Why do fully grown, rational adults offer babies their fingers?

Rosie, naturally, wraps her tiny hand around it for an inspection.

Is it edible?

No.

Does Rosie care?

Also no.

I see it happen.

So does Wes.

And before either of us can react, Rosie brings it to her mouth.

Oh no.

No, no, no.

“Rosie, no!” Wes and I say at the same time.

But it’s too late. She’s already chomping down.

Lyndsey gasps and yanks her hand back so fast she nearly drops her basket.

“Sorry,” I say quickly, as she cradles her hand. “She’s a biter.”

Lyndsey’s expression is a mix of shock and…hurt?

She shouldn’t take it personally. Rosie tried to take a chunk out of my thigh for lunch last week. I still have the bruise.

She hooks her thumb over her shoulder. “Oh. Right. Well, I'd better get going.”

Wes dips his chin in acknowledgment, and for thefirst time, Lyndsey’s eyes flick between the three of us.

Me. Wes. Rosie.

Her face shifts.

My gut clenches because I know that look.

Sadness.

Lyndsey is coming to a conclusion that is very, very wrong, and I don’t want to be here for it.

Sensing that she’s about to say something, maybe even something she’ll regret, I cut in. “It was nice to meet you,” I say with a polite smile, then promptly take the cart and turn back to the shelves, as if whatever is on display is the single most fascinating thing I have ever seen in my life.

Over my shoulder, I hear it.

“It was good to see you, Wes.”

“You too, Lyndsey.”

She’s lingering.

Debating.

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