My phone buzzes, pulling my focus away from the letter. I check the screen and see that I’m getting a call from Anne.
“What’s up?”
“I have your dress.”
“We can exchange clothes tomorrow morning,” I say. I fiddle with the letter in my hand, skimming over it like there might be something I missed the first time.
“Okay. Have you looked online yet?”
I pull my focus back to my conversation with Anne. “What do you mean?”
“Your segment this morning is going viral. The bodiless weathergirl is a big hit.”
I groan. “Are you serious?”
“It’s actually not that bad. People are loving it. I wouldn’t be surprised if you start getting fan mail after this.Realfan mail. Not just hate mail from your penemy.”
“Great. Just what I need.”
“You did this to yourself, so I don’t want to hear you complain. I’ll send you a link to the video.”
I hang up the phone, and a moment later, Anne sends me the link. I click on it and watch, cringing at first, but then I snort with laughter the longer I stay on screen. I don’t know how Patrick managed to keep a straight face while scolding me earlier. I really do look like a head floating around the screen with two little hands flapping like pale birds pointing at all of my graphics. I scroll down to read the comments, and am surprised by how many there are already.
I spend a few minutes reading until there’s a knock at my door. Thinking it’s probably Anne showing up with my dress just to see if I was lying about having plans, I leave my phone and the letter on the kitchen counter and head to the door. When I open it, I’m surprised to find Jake on the other side.
He has a smile on his face that spreads wider when he sees me. My heart skips a beat. I never knew how good it could feel to have a man look at me like that.
“You know, I was half expecting to only see a floating head when you opened the door.”
“Oh God. You saw the video?”
“Saw the video?” he repeats. “I was watching it live.”
“You watched me live?”
“Every morning,” he says. “It’s my favorite show on TV.”
I roll my eyes. “I doubt that.”
“Mind if I come in?” he asks.
“Of course not.” I open the door wider and step back so that he has room to move past me.
We make it to the living room and stop next to the island that separates this room from the kitchen. I glance at Luca’s letter on the other side of the kitchen.
“I was thinking about you all morning,” he says, pulling my attention back to him.
I smile, but inside I feel torn. He has no idea that the green screen stunt was premeditated to get the attention of another man.
“I was thinking about the weather all morning.”
“Sexy,” he says.
“Hot would be more accurate.”
“Touché.”
He looks at my countertop. A small piece of paper catches his attention. He reaches over and picks it up. “What’s this?” he asks.
