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“You exchanged numbers?” Rhoda sips her coffee, staring at me with her sharp blue eyes.
I nod.
“He hasn’t contacted you?”
“It’s been four days,” I say, sounding whinier than I mean to.
“So text him.” She shrugs, nodding to my phone.
I close my eyes, shaking my head. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“What if I misread the situation? What if he just gave me his number to be polite?”
I want to see you again. I can still hear his voice in my head. You are magnificent. That didn’t sound like mere politeness.
“What’s the worst that can happen? He stays on his estate ninety-nine percent of the time, anyway. It’s not like you’ll run into him at a restaurant or anything. Just send him a message.”
Biting my lip, I pick up my phone. I glance at my friend, who has laughter dancing in her eyes. “What do I say?”
She tilts her head, running her fingers along the base of her coffee cup. She motions for my phone, and I clutch it to my chest.
“Don’t you dare send anything without letting me see it first.”
“I would never.” She grins.
Reluctantly, I hand her my phone. Her fingers fly over the screen for a moment, and then she hands it back to me. “There.”
Ada: Hey!
I lift my eyes to Rhoda’s, frowning. “‘Hey?’ That’s it?”
“Keep it simple,” she answers, shrugging. “Men are uncomplicated creatures.”
I chew my lip, staring at the screen. I can’t send ‘Hey!’—I’m not some guy on Tinder with the intellect of a sea slug. I erase it, type another message, and hit send before I can change my mind.
Ada: Have you recovered from the trauma of a public appearance?
I turn my phone around and show Rhoda, who nods appreciatively. “Cheeky, funny, and a little flirty. You’re a natural.”
“I don’t know how to flirt.”
“Oh, please.” She laughs.
My phone buzzes, and Heath’s name flashes on the screen. My eyes widen. “It’s him.”
“Already?” Rhoda makes a grabby-hands gesture at me, nodding at my phone. “Read it or let me see. Don’t just sit there! I haven’t had this much fun since college.” She laughs, glancing at the ring on her finger. Sadness flashes across her face and disappears again, almost too fast for me to notice.
Just like Maggie, she’s chained to her duty.
I swipe my phone open and read the message.
Heath: Barely. Thinking of you sitting at the piano has helped.
My hands tremble when I show Rhoda, who squeals when she reads it. She purses her lips, shaking her head. “Ada Charlotte Belcourt, you’d better tell me exactly what happened in that piano room right now, or else I’m not sure we can be friends any longer.”
I laugh, reading the Duke’s message again. I lift a shoulder in a shrug. “We may have kissed.”
