“Um.”

  “Yes? Speak up.”

  “Hi.” The person on the other end breathed. The voice was a woman’s voice. Soft. Sweet. Soothing. I had a thing for nice voices.

  “Yes? Can I help you? Do you need to schedule an appointment?”

  I opened the appointment calendar on the computer to my right.

  “I do. I would like to schedule an appointment. Please.”

  The misplaced anger, the annoyance I’d been feeling a second ago, faded. I liked something about this voice. Kind of the same way I’d liked the voice of the girl in the hoodie earlier today. Was this her calling? Was this the same voice? Nah, impossible, right?

  Hesitantly, I asked, “What kind of an appointment?”

  “Are there multiple kinds?”

  “Well, yes.” I put my elbows on the counter. I tucked my face down, pressing the phone harder to my ear. I wanted to drown out any outside noise—like the fucking loud-as-hell air conditioning vent above my head. Because I wanted to fully hear this voice. I wanted to decide if it was the hoodie girl or not on the line. “Would you like to schedule an appointment for a piercing or for a tattoo?”

  “You do piercings?”

  “I don’t personally. But we do in the shop. Do you want a piercing?”

  “No. A tattoo.”

  “Alright. Was there a certain day you wanted to book?”

  “Any is fine.”

  “With me?”

  “What?”

  I cleared my throat. “Do you know which artist you want to book the appointment with?”

  “With Amanda.”

  “Right.” Amanda had been popular lately. She’d started doing these sketch designs, which were fucking amazing, and she’d been sharing them on her social media. Over the past couple weeks, business had picked up tenfold because of Amanda’s new style. But damn, though, because I wished the pretty voice on the phone wanted me. “Okay.” I stared at Amanda’s appointment page on the screen. Her days were already full. “How large of a design were you looking to get? Would you like a custom design or a flash design?”

  “What?”

  I could feel anxiety in the woman’s voice. Was I asking too many questions? It was apparent she had never made an appointment for a tattoo in her life. “Flash designs are the designs we have on the wall, in our books—just stuff that’s already been done by our artists. Stuff that isn’t custom. A small flash design only takes about an hour. A larger custom design can take three or four hours, sometimes a whole day or more. I’m wondering how much time I need to block off for your appointment.”

  “I think he wants custom. And small.”

  “The tattoo’s not for you?”

  “No, my friend.”

  “What’s your friend’s name? For the appointment.”

  “Nick.”

  “Like Nick Jasmine?”

  “That’s the same Nick.”

  Holy shit. I had the girl in the hoodie on the phone!

  I just sort of breathed steady for a moment before asking to be certain, “Are you the girl in the hoodie he came in with earlier?”

  “Yes.”

  Fuck me sideways on a Sunday.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Is that relevant for the appointment?”

  “No, but it might be relevant to me.”

  “Lou.”

  “Lou,” I repeated. I typed her name into the only slip of time Amanda had over the next week. It wasn’t even a full slot of time I blocked off, but I figured if Nick was coming in for more ink, it wasn’t really ink he wanted. “Is Lou short for something?”

  “No, it’s just Lou.”

  “I have an uncle named Lou.”

  “Okay. Did you have a time slot for Nick?”

  Dammit. Why did I mention my uncle? I slapped my hand to my head. “Sunday at six in the evening. It’s all Amanda has free this week. Is that okay?”

  “That’s fine.”

  “You have a last name, Lou?”

  “Nope.”

  “Where you from?”

  “Nowhere. Not your business.”

  “Okay. Fair enough.” Shit, my hands were shaking. This conversation, as simple as it was, was making my hands shake involunatrily. “Lou, no last name, from nowhere, would you like to know my name?” I tried.

  “I already know it. Finn. Goodbye, Finn.”

  She hung up.

  Holy shit. I sat there with the phone to my ear, staring at the wall on the other side of the room. I was in some kind of shock with my mouth open and my heart racing. Of all the appointments I’d ever made, in all the years I’d worked here, none had been more exhilarating than this one.

  Shit, and she knew my name.

  I loved that she knew my name.

  How did she know my name?

  Was it a good thing that she knew my name?

  She was sweet and innocent and polite. And she fucking knew my name. It was strange that she’d called for Nick when he could have easily called for himself. But whatever. I got to talk to her, so I liked it. Maybe she’d called just to talk to me.

  Lou.

  I picked up a pen and doodled three letters on a pad of paper at the desk.

  L-O-U

  It was a crazy moment, one I played in my mind on repeat over the next couple days. I even called the yoga instructor and broke off my relationship with her, over that one little moment with the hoodie girl. With Lou. But the thing was, as more days passed, I questioned it. Questioned myself. Was it just me imagining feeling so much from one little phone call?

  ~ CHAPTER 4 ~

  LOU

  My new room didn’t have any bookshelves. Not one. All I owned were my books. I owned more books than clothes. The books were the discarded ones that came from my old library, and I had no place to put them. So I stacked them. It took forever. First, by color. Then I decided that was no good. So, I stacked them by genre. Not right either. Then I ultimately sorted my books by how much each meant to me.

  It still wasn’t right.

  If I ever tripped and crashed into one of the stacks, I knew the whole thing would fall like dominoes. This wasn’t even half of my collection. The rest were in Nick’s parents’ attic.

  When I was forced out of the old library because of its renovation—my library, the one in which I grew up—there were thousands of books they were just going to throw away. I couldn’t have that. And Mrs. Jasmine, Nick’s mom, was the kindest woman—helping me, taking me in, letting me keep so many of the books I loved.

  I grabbed one off the top of the nearest stack. It was an old romance favorite. I took my book and curled up under the covers of my new bed. Then I read.

  I read through lunch.

  I read through dinner.

  When I finished the last page, with tears in my eyes because it was a damn good book, I snuck out to the kitchen.

  Nick was wonderful. We’d been living together almost a week. In all the years I’d known him, I’d never lived with him. But he was super clean and super quiet, so it hadn’t been a difficult transition. Plus, every day he left me meals in the fridge. He was gone a lot. But his meals were always there for me.

  I sat on the couch with my meal. It was dark outside now, and Nick wasn’t home yet. Then I remembered—the appointment!

  It was Sunday!

  He had his tattoo appointment today!

  I couldn’t believe I lost track of the days like this. But, really, I lost track of time so often I shouldn’t have been surprised with my absentmindedness.

  I stood up.

  I paced.

  From the dome of my library, I used to watch. I watched so many different couples over the years. Spied on the stolen kisses. Caught the little touches others didn’t see. I knew, knew deep in my heart, that Amanda was going to be something special for Nick. Something about the way he’d kissed her in the parking lot our first day in North Carolina showed all his cards. And being stuck at home without knowing what was happening right this very moment killed me. I lived vicariously through Nick.

  I think I was ready to live my own story.

  I bit down on my knuckle. An idea was forming in my head.

  Don’t do it.

  It’s weird.

  You’re weird.

  Don’t do it.

  He’ll think you’re weird.

  I considered calling the tattoo shop. I considered calling Finn. It was a ridiculous, terrible, insane idea. I wasn’t even sure why it formed in my head, but it made me go to my room and find my phone. The phone had been a gift from Nick’s mom. I still wasn’t entirely sure how to work it. But I’d used it to call the tattoo shop almost a week ago now. I’d called for Nick because he said I needed the practice talking and interacting with other people besides him. So I’d called and made the appointment, as a form of practice I suppose. Nick made me do the same when we ordered pizza on Wednesday.

  Part of me wanted to see if I had the courage to do it again.

  So with my stomach starting to ache, my throat thickening, and my hands tingling, I redialed the number. I had a one in five chance of getting the person I wanted to answer. Most likely, someone else would answer. Most likely, I’d get Amanda on the phone instead of him.

  “Hello,” spoke a male voice on the other end of the line.

  “Hi, is this Finn?”

  “You got him.”

  I hung up and tossed my phone on my bed.

  I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling on the strands. What was I thinking! Why had I done that? I didn’t have the confidence needed to do something like that. Then as if I weren’t mortified enough, from the top of my bed’s covers, my phone began to buzz. I picked it up with two fingers like it was a hot coal from a fire. On the front screen, the number of the tattoo shop rang.

  Crap!

  I had to answer.

  It would look even worse if I didn’t. So, I clicked the green button.

  “Yes?” I said into the phone, hating myself.

  “You know Kill Devil Ink has caller-ID?”

  “Sorry, I think I called the wrong number.”

  “You asked for me. By name. Specifically.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Can I help you with something, Lou?”

  He knew it was me!

  How?

  What!

  “Nope. I’m good.”

  “Nick’s here. He’s with Amanda. I’m sticking to the breakroom and giving them their privacy. I’m sure they have important stuff they need to discuss. Stuff I’m sure he’ll share with you as soon as you see him again. You are his roommate, right?”

  “I’m his roommate.”

  “I can go get him if you need him. Should I?”

  “I don’t need him.”

  “So you called me?”

  My eyes went wide. “No!”

  “You said my name, honey. Perfectly clear. Right into the phone.” Then he lowered his voice into the most seductive thing I’d ever heard in my life. “You want to say it again? I kind of liked the way it came off your tongue.”

  I gasped.

  Then I hung up.

  I waited a few minutes, thinking maybe he would call back. Thankfully, he didn’t.

  Mortified.

  I was absolutely mortified!

  Why had I ever called him in the first place? What was wrong with me?

  Now, I needed to go vomit.

  * * *

  I paced around the house for four hours. Finally Nick came home. I was desperate to talk to him, to see if he’d seen Finn. If Finn had mentioned my name. If Finn told him to tell me to back off. If Finn thought I was some insane weirdo, calling him like that for absolutely no reason at all.

  “Amanda’s in the car,” were the first words out of Nick’s mouth. He plopped down on the living room couch and then immediately stood to his feet again. “I want to bring her inside and make dinner for her. I know it’s late. But what do you think? If you aren’t comfortable with her in the house, I can take her out instead.”

  I stared at my friend from my spot on the adjacent couch. This was his house, his rental. I was merely his guest. We were still getting used to living together, and I was still getting used to living anywhere that wasn’t my library, especially with my condition, but that didn’t mean he needed to ask my permission for something so simple.

  “You can bring her in. I’m fine with that.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “Okay. Will you have dinner with us?”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Amanda’s kind.”

  “I know. But I can’t. I’ll stay in my room. I’m tired anyway.”

  “Thank you, Lou. Thank you. Call me, text me, if you change your mind and decide she shouldn’t be here.” He took a breath and then my friend left out the front door.

  I was crazy. Like legit, a crazy person. I knew that. And I was terrified to have another person in the house, even a woman, but I’d have to pretend I wasn’t. Because this was Nick’s chance at love. His chance at normal. And I couldn’t deny him of his normal. I’d moved all the way to North Carolina in hopes of helping Nick find that normal. I had to do this for him.

  So I hid. I hid in my room.

  After a few minutes, I heard the sound of the front door opening and the two of them entering the house.

  I told myself not to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help it. My whole life, I’d always been listening in on others when I shouldn’t have been listening. It was part of my nature. So, as much as I tried not to, I listened now.

  “I’m pregnant,” were the first words I heard.

  My eyes went wide.

  “It’s Finn’s baby.”

  My eyes went even wider. And my stomach dropped. Had I heard correctly?

  “It just sort of happened. Before we happened. And yeah. So, yeah. I’m pregnant. Super pregnant. I thought you should know that.”

  Of everything I could have imagined hearing, I never expected to overhear that!

  I didn’t know what I was expecting with Finn, what my mind was trying to imagine with him, but I now knew how stupid I’d been to hope to obtain a normal of my own.

  “Wow,” Nick answered.

  “I know.”

  “How sure are you that it’s his? Because we—”

  “I’m sure.”

  “How do you know for sure?”

  “Well, I’m three months pregnant. Finn and I were sleeping together pretty regularly around three months ago. I was only with you two months ago. So simple math.”

  “Are you dating Finn?”

  “No. I’m not.”

  “And me? What do you want with me?”

  “I want you.”

  I stepped away from my door. This was one of the most intimate conversations I’d ever listened in on, and I didn’t want to intrude more than I felt I already had.

  So Amanda was pregnant.

  And with Finn’s baby.

  Allegedly.

  I might have believed Amanda. The whole ‘three-month, two-month’ thing sounded logical enough. But no—quickly I decided she might be lying. People lie all the time. But facial expressions are much harder to fake. On the day we drove into North Carolina, when we stopped to collect Nick’s hat from Kill Devil Ink, I remembered the way Amanda looked at Nick. She looked at him like a girl who’d seen a ghost.

  Or maybe…

  She’d looked at him like a girl laying eyes on the man who got her pregnant.

  The baby was Nick’s, I decided.

  I knew it the way I often ‘just know’ things about people.

  I wondered if Nick suspected the same.

  But why had Amanda lied and claimed Finn was the father? It was a mystery I needed to unlock. There would be no chance I’d be able to sleep tonight. I’d be stewing on this one for ages. But then it occurred to me, maybe Finn loved Amanda either way.

  ~ CHAPTER 5 ~

  FINN

  “Finn, I’m so sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “I told Nick the baby was yours.”

  I blinked at Amanda. The sun was barely over the horizon. I was in charge of opening the shop today on this beautiful Monday morning, and this was the first thing to hit my ears. It completely spoiled my decent mood. “You did what now?”

  “I told him you were the father.”

  “Why?”

  “It seemed like a good idea in the moment. A way to test the waters. Test his reaction. He reacted well to the news, actually, and I spent the night with him. But I’m starting to get this sense that Nick is good at playing the part he plays.”

  I was still having trouble processing why she’d throw me into drama that wasn’t even mine. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around this. What do you mean good at playing the part he plays?”

  “Like a person who goes to extremes to please everyone else. Like he hides a lot of who he is. Somehow, I know he’s hiding something, and I was terrified to tell him he’s the father. But, good news, he took you being the father rather well.”

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Nick was a ‘people pleaser’ and stuck in his own rich, privileged world. I gave Amanda a face. I was now knee-deep in her shit.

  “I’ll straighten this out the next time I see him. I promise,” she pleaded.

  I sighed. “No. It’s okay. You can let him think I’m the dad for as long as you need to.”

  “I can? Really?”

  “Of course. I don’t mind helping you figure him out. He’s weird. I get it.”

  She gave me a small, relieved smile. As much as she was trying to hide it, I could tell she was terrified. I didn’t blame her. I didn’t know what I’d do if I were suddenly pregnant. And if one little lie made this pregnancy easier for her to handle then I was okay with it. “Alright. I’m going to get home. I only came here to tell you that much. I wanted you to hear it from me first. I’ll be back in a couple hours before my appointment at noon. We can talk more about it then. Have a good morning.” She grabbed her bag off the counter and stepped away.

  My mind went straight to the mysterious Lou.

  We’d had only two short conversations. On the phone, no less. But some part of me wanted to know her. I realized now that if Nick thought the baby was mine, that meant Lou must now believe the same.