“Don’t think playing twenty questions is going to make me try any of those frogs.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
She quirked her lips at him, looking way too much like she had their junior year, when she’d hold her report card in his face, tapping the GPA in the bottom corner, and taunt him about their race to valedictorian. “My turn. Favorite genre of music?”
He folded his hands behind his head, elbows braced wide. “Hip-hop.”
Rosalyn grimaced.
“Don’t judge—you should try it when you’re working out.” He grinned. “Think of it like an audible energy drink.”
She scrunched her face. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“What’s yours?”
“I listen to a lot of classical.”
“Of course you do.” Cade snorted.
She sat up straighter. “Now who’s judging?”
“Well, I suppose no one’s perfect,” he joked. But good grief if she didn’t come incredibly close. “Okay, here’s one. What about your earliest memory?”
“Earliest?” Her brow furrowed as she took another sip of tea. Two motorcyclists roared down Decatur Street, their exhaust lingering over the patio. “I’m not sure. What about you?”
“When I think back to childhood, I see all these fragile things I was never allowed to touch. Tea sets and porcelain dolls.” He wrinkled his nose. “And a bunch of suits and fancy dresses crowding the living room after I was supposed to be in bed.”
“Let me guess.” Rosalyn grinned. “You weren’t in bed.”
“I usually waited up, hoping our housekeeper would sneak me some of the leftover cookies.” Cade laughed.
“Let me guess again. She did.”
“So I wasmaybea little spoiled. Though not in the way Amber always made me seem.”
“Oh, Amber.” Rosalyn shook her head and sighed. “Don’t let her get to you.”
He didn’t anymore—usually. “You sure always listened to her.”
“Amber was…infectious.” Rosalyn sighed. “She’s so passionate about what she believes, she makes you start to think you believe it too.”
Yeah. Like about what kind of guy he was. But high school was so long ago—it didn’t matter now, right? He was here.
With Rosalyn.
He cleared his throat. “Your turn.”
“Let’s see.” Rosalyn rolled in her lower lip. “Maybe this isn’t myfirstmemory, but I do remember completely ignoring the swing in the backyard tree my dad had been excited about. I tried to climb the rope it hung from, instead, and touch the top branch.” She shook her head. “Mom freaked out, told me that was dangerous.”
“And here you are now, climbing things for a living.” Cade liked this game. “What about your happiest memory?”
“My first aerial lesson when I was eleven.” She didn’t hesitate. “I sat in the hammock—that’s the apparatus everyone starts on—and spun circle after circle.” The sun was still out, but Rosalyn’s grin could have lit the night. “I inverted on my second lesson and was hooked.”
Cade rocked his chair back on two legs. “I don’t know what that means, but it sounds impressive.”
“Hammock is a continuous loop of fabric, rather than two individual silks. Each of the silks are called poles.” She held up a finger. “Not to be confused with pole dancing. That’s a different sport.”
He chuckled. “And inverting is just going upside down?”
