Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“Sometimes I really want to strangle Clive,” Ísa muttered darkly. “Catie, I messaged Sailor three times this morning after he left for the main greenhouse complex.”
She held up three fingers. “Once to send him heart emojis because I adore him. Second was to remind him about a meeting that he’d noted down on the jotter next to our home phone and I knew he meant to add to his diary, and last but most importantly, I texted to tell him something hilarious that Emmaline said while I was dropping her off at school.”
Catie was grinning. “Heart emojis?”
“I’m a poet. I’m emotional.” Ísa grinned, unashamed. “He sent me a cactus emoji in reply.”
Catie might’ve taken that for some kind of dig if she hadn’t seen the collection of tiny cacti in hand painted pots that lived on the windowsill of Ísa’s study at home. All of them gifted to her by her husband over the years. Catie didn’t know the full story behind them, but she knew they meant something romantic—Ísa always got a silly smile on her face when she was checking on them.
“My point,” Ísa said, “is that you don’t need to worry about things like that with someone you love and who loves you. There’s no account book, no keeping track. They might think you’re a dork, but they’ll love you for it.”
“It’s not… you know… love.” She shifted awkwardly in her seat. “We’re just getting to know each other as more than annoying teenagers.”
“Then don’t hide,” Ísa whispered gently. “Be who you are—don’t show him just the armored steel you show the world. Show him the sweet Catiebug who sits with Emmaline and Esme for hours, playing dolls or robots, and who delights Connor by watching the same movie over and over with him.
“Show him the Catie who saved up her pocket money to get my first published book bound in leather with my name embossed in gold.” Ísa’s eyes shimmered. “Show him the Catie who has a heart so soft that she donates ridiculous amounts of money to animal shelters.”
“How do you even know that?” Catie squeaked.
“I know things,” Ísa said, tapping at her temple. “Baby, you’re a gorgeous, sweet, strong woman who loves. You’re also the bravest person I know. Now you have to be braver than you’ve ever before been because this—what I see with you and Danny—I know you well enough to know you’ll kick yourself forever if you don’t try your hardest to see if you can make it work.”
“What if it fails?” Catie whispered. “It would really, really hurt, Ísa.” That was as far as she could go to admitting how much Danny already meant to her.
“I know.” Ísa’s voice was thick. “But regret hurts too. I can’t make that choice for you, but I want you to know that you’re stronger than you realize. We both have a bit of the Dragon in us after all.”
Catie held her sister’s words close to her heart as she went through the rest of her day. She knew she could be brave. She didn’t have any doubts about that part of herself. She’d come through the fires as a child and it had forever altered her. But emotional bravery of this kind… it was hard.
Then she got a text from Danny. A raccoon emoji. That was it.
Snorting out a laugh, she responded with a picture she had on her phone of her missing dangle, typing the word: Stolen across it in red text.
Five minutes later, he sent back a photo of the dangle with packing tape wrapped around it as if it were being held hostage.
Laughing, she felt her anxiety drop once more. He was thinking of her, and he obviously didn’t mind this kind of contact. So maybe… maybe they could make it work.
* * *
Three weeks later and Danny knew two things.
One: he was hopelessly head over heels for one Catie M. River.
Two: she didn’t feel the same.
Oh yeah, that hurt, but he was no chicken. He was also used to fighting for what he wanted in life, and he wanted to call Catie his own. The only problem was that he couldn’t figure out what he was doing wrong.
That thought was uppermost in his mind when Sailor, Ísa, and the kids gave him a video call. It was good to see their faces and hear the children’s chatter. He ordered them not to forget their favorite uncle, listened to Connor’s earnest toddler talk, and soaked in Emmaline’s excitement over her team’s recent win, then told them about Japan.
After the kids wandered off, Ísa patted Sailor on the shoulder. “You two have some brother-to-brother time. I want to make a new recipe for Sunday lunch with the family.”
A deep pang in Danny’s heart. Sunday potluck lunch at their parents’ place wasn’t compulsory—with such a big family, all with busy lives, including children who played weekend sports or did other extracurricular activities, and adults who were involved in various endeavors, it wasn’t a given that everyone could make it. But someone always did.