Three little emojis had erased all the ick from the day. By the time she texted back, she was laughing.
Annie paused, her fingers in mid text.
Was he trying to say that out of his limitless options for dinner companions, he’d picked her? Regardless, the last thing she needed was to play house with the sexy roomie who made her nervous. His smile made her nervous too. But not as much as the way her body reacted when he was near.
Annie was about to power down her phone when the screen lit up.
“You are so annoying,” she shouted at the phone, ignoring the orderly who clearly thought she was crazy.
Emmitt made her crazy, in all the wrong ways—and some of the right ones.
While she’d been text-fighting with Emmitt, a speck of giddy anticipation had crept its way out of that deep, dark place she’d buried it and into her belly, making it tingle.
Tingling was bad. Tingling over an immature argument with her male roommate was very bad.
Afraid she might text back “Sponge baths happen in bed, not the kitchen,” Annie turned her phone to airplane mode, then zoomed in on the rental agreement photo. It was only the first page of the contract, and she read it twice, but it did zilch to calm her nerves.
All she could gather was that the house was officially listed as an Airbnb, so the agreement wasn’t your standard lease. It did, however, contain a clause that allowed for the owner, or renter, to terminate the agreement seven days prior to stay. Did that mean if Emmitt gave her notice today, she’d have to find a new place by next week? Or that he’d had to have issued the notice seven days prior to the beginning of her stay?
She hadn’t a clue. There was only one thing of which she was certain. Tingles or not, Annie was done with being the one to always pack up and move.
Chapter 12
As Annie circled the grocery store parking lot, she contemplated whether now was a good time to call her mother.
By good, she meant the best time for the call to go to voice mail.
She needed the Walsh family matzo ball soup recipe. Not a lecture on how Annie had let another good one slip through her fingers. She pulled up her mom’s contact info, her palms going sweaty when it rang.
“Annie, honey? Is that you?” Her mother’s voice filled the car. “Marty, Annie’s on the phone.”
In the background came a muffled, “Is that Annie?”
While her parents discussed the likelihood of it being Annie—even though her name must have appeared on her mom’s phone the moment the call connected—Annie thunked her forehead on the steering wheel. Three times.
Her mouth opened, but all that came out was, “Mom?”
“Of course it’s Mom. You called me, so why do you sound surprised?” Maura asked.
“I’m not. It’s just, uh...” In thirty-five years, this is the first call you’ve ever answered during Jeopardy!. “After I dialed, I realized what time it was. I didn’t want to interrupt Jeopardy!. So I was just going to leave a message. In fact, I can still do that. Hang up and I’ll call you back and leave a message.”
“Why would I do that?” There was more muffling, as if her mom was covering the receiver with her hand, then a distant “She wants me to hang up so she can leave a message.... No, she thought she was interrupting Jeopardy!.”
When the hand was removed, it was her father on the line. “Remember Frank Shubert from the tennis club? His oldest just moved back home. What’s his name?” The last part was directed at his wife.
“Jacob.”
“Right. Jacob set us up with a new device that lets you watch shows anytime. It’s really something. I just speak into the remote, and it plays what I want to watch. Next time you’re over, I’ll show it to you.”
Her dad sounded so excited, Annie decided not to remind him about the Hulu subscription she’d given him last year for his birthday. And she most definitely did not remind him that he’d canceled it.
Other people’s choices are not a reflection of me.
“But Mom likes to watch Jeopardy! live.”
“There’s no commercials, Annie,” her mom said, as if she’d just been shown the eighth wonder of the world. “Can you believe that?”
“No, Mom. I can’t,” Annie deadpanned.
“Jacob got divorced—that’s why he’s home. What a shame. He’s such a nice boy.” One concerned sigh later, Maura perked up. “ He’s single, no kids, got a