Page 34 of Forest Proximity
“And do you want their mother to be of sound mind?”
It’s quiet on my sister’s end now.
“Exactly,” I say with a sigh.
I’m surprised to find I want her to argue with me. I want Ruth to tell me it’s okay to be interested in someone who might not be all there upstairs, but she doesn’t. Of all of the times for my sister to be reasonable, she chooses this one.
What she does say surprises me even more. “I need to meet her.”
Chapter 14
Stevie
Adam’s daisy crown whispers from where I left it on the nightstand beside my phone: “Text himmmmm.”
Inanimate objects are speaking to me now. Maybe I am sort of touched in the head.
It’s Sunday morning, and last night feels like a long, sweet, cedarwood-scented dream. I sigh, burrowing into my soft sheets. It’s still dark outside, and rain is plinking against my bedroom window. I have time to luxuriate in my own insanity before I go to church with my parents and try to act normal.
I completely forgot to look for anything Bigfoot related last night. I got so caught up in Adam and those dang rabbits that I forgot who I am and my purpose in life. Icannotlose this bet, but I also can’t seem to think of anything but the way Adam’s dark hair swoops over his forehead or the look in his eyes when he spotted those rabbits. Or the way his Adam’s apple dipped when he looked at me.
Or the daisy crown.
Or that hug.
His gruff voice calling me Queen of the Forest.
Adam might be kind of ... perfect.
“Ughhhhhh.” I flip onto my stomach, letting my pillow muffle my tortured cries. “He. Is. Not. Perfect,” I remind myself, pounding my mattress with my fist. He hates lupines, he doesn’t wear a shirt, and texting him is like chatting with a science textbook. His shoulders are perfect, though. “Why does he have to look like that?”
I will not lose this bet because a man who cares about rabbits, and has sexy hair and an Adam’s apple, walked into my life. I’m stronger than that. I will not cave to the daisy crown.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I pivot my head, blinking open one suspicious eye. That had better not be Adam.
I hope it’s Adam.
I grope for my phone and swipe to answer. “Hello?” I cross my fingers for the masculine voice I want to hear.
“Sir Steven Shuh,” my brother taunts instead.
Conor has called me that for as long as I can remember. He splits my middle name, Saoirse, in half and throws a Steven in the middle. He thinks this is hilarious. It took me way too long to figure out that he only did it to get me riled up. When I was a little girl I would scream,“I’m not a boy!”about it, but now it feels like a warm blanket.
“Hello,Newman.” I sit up against my headboard. “Took you long enough to call me back.”
“Sorry, Steve. Things have been hectic over here.” As if on cue, a few dogs bark in the background. It sounds like he’s multitasking while he talks.
Conor breeds Australian shepherds and has three sons. His whole life is loud. He lives in Boston, but I can almost hear them from here without the phone. And I know he’s busy with the dogs, the kids, and a wife whose family is even more rowdy than ours. I just miss him.
He yells at the dogs to shut up, then says, “Okay, let’s talk Bigfoot.”
Finally. I prop my phone between my ear and my shoulder, rubbing my hands together. “Okay, you watched my video, right?”
Dogs bark and Conor hollers at them again. “Syd, Darwin!Shut up!” His end goes quiet. “Yeah, I saw it.”
“And?” Why doesn’t he sound more invested?
He doesn’t answer right away. “I don’t know, Steve.”
