TWO DAYS LATER Antonio stared at his phone screen for the umpteenth time, smiling and waiting, hopeful that Rosebud would reply to his text, call him, anything.
But it had been over two hours since he sent “where are you” and there had been no answer. Not even an emoji or heart. Nothing.
Was she...? No, she promised not to shut him out; in fact, she even made him breakfast after their passionate night, and he had ended up staying with her until noon that day.
He scrolled through their previous messages, a faint hope flickering with each one. They'd been good, easy, filled with their usual banter—her sarcasm, her grumpiness even—that’s his favorite part.
He had even thought he detected a hint of possessiveness in her last playful jab before he left.
So what was happening now? He felt a
