Page 92 of Late Nights & Love Lines
When he doesn’t immediately say anything, my stomach gurgles as if I’m about to be sick.
“Can I give you some advice?” His voice is soft and kind. It relaxes me more than anything else.
“I guess,” I mutter.
“Be honest with them. They’re there because they want to get to know you, not because they’re trying to take something from you or harm you in any way, I promise. If you tell them what you told me, you’ll find it a lot easier to relax and maybe even enjoy yourself.”
“You want me to tell them that at thirty-three years old I don’t know how to make a friend? What if they ask why?”
“I’m sure they will.”
I gasp audibly, but he speaks over it.
“I also think they’ll respect your boundaries if you set them. They’re good people, Rowan. You should give them a chance. You enjoyed hanging out with them at Beck’s house, right?”
Did I? I thought I was more of an observer, an outsider looking in on a family I’d never be part of, not really an active participant.
“But I didn’t have to do anything there. I don’t know how to host.” And that’s the crux of it. I’m embarrassed I can’t do something as simple as host a playdate. I never arranged them as a nanny. I always brought the kids to the library or the kiddie gym. And something about hosting in Sebastian’s home makes it feel more…domestic. I don’t do domestic.
“You do, Rowan. That’s your home too. Share it with them and see how it goes. If it all blows up and you get the impulse to run, tell them you need to check on Miles and hang out with him for a bit, but I’m confident the time with them will go by in a flash.”
“You could have warned me,” I say petulantly.
“I did, sweetheart. Try checking your text messages sometime. I’ve got to get back into my meeting. Are you okay?”
“No.”
“I believe in you. You can do this.” His smile broadcasts through the phone.
“That’s supposed to be my line,” I grumble.
“I’ll call you later.”
“Fine. And Seb?”
“Yeah?” The noise around him picks back up.
“Thank you.”
He’s silent for three long beats.
“I’m always here for you, Peach. I’m really glad that you called me. Try to have fun.”
I nod and hang up before he hears how his words affect me.
In a panic, I called him. I don’t think I’ve gone to anyone for help or comfort since I was eleven years old.
I’m in so much trouble.
Tabby’s distinct laughter fills the silence, reminding me that I can’t stay up here forever.
Okay, Rowan Ellis. You can do this. It’s only two women. It’ll be a piece of cake. No problem. You’ve handled much worse.
With that embarrassingly inadequate pep talk complete and two knocks on the doorframe for good luck, I march back to the kitchen as though I’m entering the death chamber. I just hope this isn’t my last meal.
“Okay,” I say far too loudly.Wow, get it together, Row. “Um, so here’s the deal. I don’t know how to do this.” I wave my hand frantically between me and them. “Or this.” My hand extends around the kitchen. “I’ve never done any of it before. It’s making my hands very sweaty, and my heart might stop any second. Either that or my breakfast is about to evacuate in a very disgusting way. It’s a toss-up, really.”
There. I did it. That wasn’t so hard.
