Chapter 38 Round Two?

• The quiet knock came just after ten.
• Rosie set down the half-folded blanket on the couch, glanced toward the door, then to the mirror near the bookshelf. She’d done her hair twice and undone it both times. Not that Alistair would care. He was probably in sneakers and whatever shirt he’d pulled from the top of his drawer.
• When she opened the door, he was exactly that, relaxed and familiar. Holding a pastry box and a thin smile that suggested he'd planned this down to the last crumb.