Page 10 of Rosie and the Dreamboat
“She gave you that rose without even knowing you’re funny and silly. That’s the absolute worst part.”
He sounds amazed. “You love me for my sparkling personality? Even though I’m just the clamshell’s AI?”
“That’s the only explanation for you being so freakin’ charming.” I can’t see a thing, but I picture him now, smiling up at the ceiling, stretching in pleasure. “Maybe you need a hobby. A pet?”
“Ma says a wife would be the best solution. They don’t grow on trees.”
That’s a strange thing to put a shiver in my stomach. I hurry past it. “Start small. I could recommend an indoor plant for your home space.”
Groan. “Here comes the upsell. You live in a jungle, I presume?”
“I’ve got a four-poster bed, and I’ve got ivy growing all over it.”
“Okay, that sounds amazing. Can you recommend any good local indoor plant stores with hilarious employees?”
My heart flips over in my chest. “I’ll try to think of one.”
“You’re stuck in a pod on Valentine’s Day. Isn’t that a busy day for a plant shop?”
“Most people shop at florists, but we do have a strong day today. My boss was okay with me taking the day. No one in the world knows where I am, except Bree. I wonder if she’s in the semifinals of the Pampering Olympics by now?”
“She’s on my shit list,” Leo says darkly.
“I’m glad she left. You’d be talking to her instead.”
She’d be sitting across from him, with her damp hair crinkling attractively, and her lovely straight teeth and naturally long eyelashes. I’ll never find my theoretical husband with her around. I hear how disloyal I must sound. “She’d be teasing me relentlessly. She’s more hilarious than me.”
“I don’t think I’d let her tease you.” He sounds ... flat? No, wait. He’s protective of me.
I’m losing touch with the world outside his voice. What life was like with light and sound and the weight of my own body. Will I ever be dry again? And why does my heart feel like a baby bird in my chest?
I scrape my tattered fingertips on the side of the tank. “I am a bit sad about missing the other treatments. They were going to paint my nails a pretty color.”
“Sweetie, they owe you big for this. You’re getting free manicures for life if I get my way.”
“Do you always get your way?”
“From now on, I do. Man, I’m so impressed by how you’re handling this. You’re made of strong stuff.”
The phrase echoes back through my memory until I pin it down. “Hey, I said that to Bree in the waiting room at about nine this morning. I’m made of strong stuff.”
“I’m glad you know it.”
“I’ve still needed rescuing several times. Where were you?”
“I’ve been completely slacking off,” he agrees. I have never heard a voice as warm and friendly as his. “When’s another time I should have been there to rescue you?”
That memory pops into my head. The bad one. “Uhhh ...” I stretch to my full length, touching my toes to one end and my fingertips to the other. I have to feelsomething. I scrape my entire memory for another example, but nothing comes to me.
He sounds playfully frustrated. “You can’t just sayuhhh, all intriguing, and then go silent. Is it worse than this?”
“This one time, in my first year of college. I could have really used you then.”
He’s heard the change in my voice, and with doom in his, he asks, “What happened?”
“I got locked in the trunk of a car.”
He’s amazed. “How the hell did you manage that?”
