Beautiful Rose (Elixir Billionaires #1)

28. Rose

28

ROSE

My eyes sting as I watch the receding headlights of Zander’s car. A foreign sensation of loss hits me so hard that it aches. I can’t remember ever feeling like this in the past.

Trying to keep the increasing thickness growing in my throat at bay, I return to the living room and find Kristy waiting for me with a bottle of wine. She is in a well-deserved celebration mood. I’m so happy for her and Oscar.

But before I can join her, I hear my cell phone ringing in my room. I look at her indecisively and she laughs. “You guys have it bad. Pick up before he comes back.”

I bolt into my room and grab the phone from the side table. Breathlessly, I stammer, “H-hi.”

“Hi.” How is it possible that just hearing one word from his raspy voice makes me miss him more? “I’m not even off your street and I’m missing you already.” Zander sighs, making me believe I’m not the only crazy one. The way my heart aches, it feels like we’ve been apart for days and not just a few minutes.

“Me too,” I whisper, and my voice cracks. “I love you… so mu ch.” While saying the words to a phone instead of his face, they somehow feel less powerful.

“You’re killing me, couch girl.” He groans while I unsuccessfully try to bite back a sob. “I’m coming back. Please don’t cry.” I hear him say something to the driver.

“No, no. Please,” I interrupt his commands.

“Are you sure? I can return, stay the night, and leave for St. Peppers early tomorrow morning.”

“No.” I shake my head vigorously which he, of course, can’t see, so I try to explain to him with words. “It’s just… I’m not used to all these…feelings.”

He’s quiet for a while before I hear a tinge of familiar tease in Zander’s voice. “Can I say something mean?”

“Sure.” I smile through the tears, wondering where he’s going with this.

“As much as it breaks my heart to hear you cry, I’m also over the moon to see you missing me so much.” His raspy voice reminds me of all those moments in the past forty-eight hours when he was whispering in my ear. Sometimes too soft, sometimes too hot.

“Kristy is waiting for me. We plan to celebrate her engagement. Will you call me when you reach home?” I ask before I turn into another weeping mess, remembering the most amazing eleven-hundred-and-fifty-two-minutes of my life.

“Of course. I’ll call you sooner than that. Go enjoy the evening with your friend. It’s a special day for her.”

“And for us,” I murmur.

“Every day with you is special, Marr, even when we’re apart.”

My pulse quickens at the rawness of his gruff voice. A hitch escapes me, eliciting a groan out of him.

“You’re making me crazy.” Before I can tell him he’s doing the same thing to me, Zander clears his throat. “No more being sad. Go to your friend before I change my mind and drive back.”

I love his sweet warning, which is followed by a rustling of papers.

“Now, I’m going to enjoy a little car picnic with the snacks you packed for me. Love you, couch girl.”

“Love you, Zander.” In the past two days, I’ve said these three words so many times. Words I’ve rarely said in the past. These powerful and meaningful words come out so easily with him.

I enter the kitchen and find Kristy taking out a pizza from the oven.

“I thought I would get dinner ready by the time you and your boyfriend finished your monkey business.”

“We were just talking.” My face heats as I remember all the non-talking business we’ve recently conducted.

She hums, telling me she’s not buying it.

When we settle on our vintage living room rug, Kristy hands me a glass of wine. We click our pale blue glasses. “To us and our love lives.”

“To us and our love lives,” I repeat before sipping one of the best wines I’ve ever tasted. “It’s a good one.”

“I kind of stole it from Oscar before the accident happened.” Kristy pulls off a piece of pizza, the melted cheese trailing on the cardboard box.

“Wow. You and Oscar? I still can’t wrap my head around this news. How did I… never know?” I’m not overly astute on such matters, but it’s Kristy; I should have had some inkling. We see Oscar every day. I remember all the times I’ve seen them bickering. “I really am happy for you, Kris.”

“And I’m happy for you. I’m sure the handsome, sexy bachelor won’t be a bachelor for long.” She hits my shoulder playfully.

I try to keep my racing heartbeat in check. “It’s…too soon for all that, but we admitted our feelings to each other. ”

“I’m so glad to see you this happy, Rosie. When I told Mom about Oscar and Zander, I think she had a small heart attack.” Kristy chuckles before sipping the delectable wine.

“Really? What did you tell Sophia about Zander?” I hold my breath in anticipation.

“Just that he’s our boss and one of the hottest bachelors.” Kristy grins. “Mom asked me to mail her pictures of both of them.”

She rests her wineglass on the rug and some of the excitement drains from her voice.

“Can you imagine that she’s managed to survive in this world of technology without any electronic device other than her nineties cell phone, which doesn’t even have internet access?”

I don’t know how to reply to Kristy’s question. Sophia’s technology abhorrence has never been clear to me.

“Sometimes I wonder how different our lives would be if Dad were still with us. How he’d have reacted when I told him about Oscar.”

Her question prompts me to think about my own father; something I seldom do. Maybe he’d have the talk with Zander, sitting in some big study in a big chair near a fireplace with a glass of Scotch.

My odd trail of thoughts is broken when Kristy throws her phone in my face with a Pinterest board on display.

The vintage wedding .

Her inspiration.

She raves for two hours about her opulent wedding plans. But toward the end, her eyes start to get heavy. It’s comical to see her trailing off, dozing for few seconds until she startles and continues rambling. Finally, I have to force her to go to bed with a promise that I’ll listen to all her plans tomorrow.

I place a glass of water by my nightstand and change into my blue T-shirt and matching bottoms. With my phone in hand, I jump onto the bed. There are three texts from Zander waiting for me.

Zander: You weren’t lying about not knowing how to cook, couch girl.

Below the text is a picture of a soggy sandwich.

Crab! It had too much mustard.

Zander: But I finished it.

And in the next picture, he’s wolfing down that last bite. His hands are messy, and I can see the hint of a yellow stain on his white shirt.

Several minutes later, there’s another text.

Zander: Call me when you can.

I press the green button adjacent to his name, and he picks up after two rings.

“Hey,” Zander coos in a sleepy voice.

“Were you asleep?” I get under the covers and tuck the comforter under me from the sides.

“I think so.” I hear the rustling of fabric as he most likely sits upright. “I worked a bit on tomorrow’s meeting, and then I transferred your pictures from the carnival to my iPad. This way, I could see you on a larger frame. I don’t remember when I fell asleep while watching you. What were you doing?”

The thought of him looking at my pictures makes my heart soar with its wings spread open. I lick my dry lips before replying, “Kristy and I celebrated her engagement with wine and pizza. Then she told me her grand plans for the wedding.”

He chuckles. “I’m happy for her and Oscar.”

“Yes, me too, and also for Charlie. I am sorry about the sandwich, though.”

“It’s no problem, couch girl. You’re lucky I know my way around the kitchen.”

“Really?” I can’t imagine Zander in a kitchen. Actually, it’s hard to imagine his tall, broad form covered in impeccable suits doing anything other than boardroom meetings.

“Why, Ms. Marlin, you sound surprised,” he says in his sultry voice, which I’ve recently been hearing a lot of.

“Actually, I am. It’s hard to imagine you doing anything other than the CEO stuff.”

“CEO stuff?” He laughs his beautiful laugh. “You know very well there is nothing like CEO stuff.” After composing himself, he says, “But it’s true; I am a pretty good cook. So much so that I once considered being a chef.”

“I can’t believe it. You’re just toying with me.”

“Why can’t you believe it?” he asks in disbelief, and I smile, hearing him so worked up. “I told you that I looked after my brothers, which obviously included cooking for them. That was one thing I enjoyed. Later, by the time I could afford someone else to cook for me, I was addicted to my own exemplary culinary skills.”

I let the memory of a young Zander taking care of his brother’s slide and focus on his not-so-modest comment. “When am I getting a taste of your exceptional skills?”

“I can’t wait to give you a taste, couch girl.”

I close my eyes at the sound of his rustic voice. He for sure isn’t only talking about food.