12. Daniel
12
DANIEL
I t’s been a while since we’ve come back from Paris, and I try again to reach out to Rosie.
Daniel: Hey it’s me. How’s Emily?
Rosie: She’s not good. Emily’s suffering from nightmares most nights.
Daniel: What can I do?
Rosie: Turn back time.
Rosie: Nothing.
Daniel: I’d give anything to turn back time.
Daniel: How are you?
Rosie: Doesn’t matter how I am. All that matters is Emily is safe.
Daniel: It matters to me.
Rosie: I’m fine.
Daniel: If you need me, I’m here.
Rosie: K
Daniel: Has Emily been getting Louis’ sunflowers?
Rosie: Yes. But she doesn’t want them. My flat is filling up with them.
Daniel: Louis is heartbroken.
Rosie: As is Emily.
Another week passes.
Ivy: Just so you know, Rosie has made it back to work this morning.
Daniel: How is she?
Ivy: Quiet.
Ivy: How’s her friend?
Daniel: Not good.
Ivy: And Louis?
Daniel: Devastated.
Ivy: Tell Louis she needs time to heal, and unfortunately, there is no timeline for that.
Daniel: Louis blames himself for what happened.
Ivy: It’s not his fault, he needs to know that.
Ivy: I’ll keep an eye on Rosie this week.
Daniel: Thank you.
Rosie: Do you still want to work with me on your Kent project?
Her text message surprises me.
Daniel: Yes, of course. But we have plenty of time to start on that.
Rosie: I need something new to focus on.
Rosie: Please.
Daniel: If you’re sure?
Rosie: I am.
Daniel: When would you like to start?
Rosie: Now.
Daniel: If you are free tonight, come by the gallery, I’m working late. Is that okay?
Rosie: That’s fine. I’ll see you after work.
“I appreciate you popping by the gallery after work,” I say, greeting Rosie warmly with a kiss on the cheek. She’s wearing a white shift dress with a matching jacket, heels, and designer bag, her copper red hair cascading around her shoulders with a pair of sunglasses slid into place atop her head. I notice the dark circles under her eyes and the lifeless color in her face, and I want to pull her into my arms and make it all better for her. I offer her a seat and she takes it. “I’m flat out. We have a new exhibition next week, and the artist is being artistic, but the distraction is good,” I say, giving her a sad smile, which she returns with a nod in understanding. “You should pop by if you have time.”
“Maybe.” She shrugs.
“Do you want a drink or something?” I ask, getting up and moving over to my bar where I pour myself a scotch as the awkwardness settles between us.
“Water thanks.”
I grab a bottle from the mini fridge and hand it to her as I take my seat again. “How’s Emily?” I ask.
“Coping. She’s painting so I guess that is good.” Emily’s painting? Interesting. “Anyway, about your gorgeous home,” she says, steering the conversation back to work.
Two hours later, and after the initial awkwardness as soon as we got talking about my home, the difference in Rosie was noticeable. So much so that when her stomach rumbled and I suggested dinner, she agreed, even more surprising, she let me pop a bottle of wine as we continued to talk about my home. As the house has already been renovated in dark moody tones, which was a reason I purchased it in the first place, we are sticking to that. I then showed her the art I have already hung everywhere, and she sat and listened as I spoke about each piece, writing notes as we talked. She created a Pinterest board for me so we can share ideas and styles that I like. It was nice being able to let my mind think of something other than what was happening between Louis and Emily. A pang of guilt hits me because Louis wishes he could be doing this with Emily.
“I have some great places to start to source furniture and soft furnishings for you. Is there a chance I could head down and see the place? I need to get measurements, see where the lighting hits, the heights of the artwork, and those sorts of things,” she asks.
“Sure. I’d love to show you around,” I say, sipping my wine.
“Great, let me coordinate with my team, and we can set up an inspection,” she says, writing notes into her book. My brows pull together, I was kind of hoping that it would be just the two of us. “If I haven’t said it tonight, thank you. I needed this, getting out of the flat, making my brain think of something other than that night.” I reach out and give her hand a squeeze. “I’m excited about the project.”
“Me too. You have some great ideas and I know my home is in great hands. Ivy speaks highly of you and that’s the best recommendation,” I tell her.
A wide smile falls across her lips, one I haven’t seen in such a long time. “I promise I won’t let you down.” I know she won’t. Rosie looks down at her watch. “Oh, that’s the time. Wow. I didn’t realize it was so late. I should be letting you go, I’ve taken up too much of your time,” she says as she starts packing up her things.
“I’ve had fun with you, tonight,” I confess as I start clearing up our rubbish. “Watching you in your element, how happy and excited you are to help bring my ideas to life has made me forget about the outside world for a couple of hours.”
“Me too,” she says, shoving her notepad into her bag.
“What are your plans for the rest of the night?”
She lets out a sigh. “I’m thinking I might walk back home. It looks like a beautiful night.”
“Where’s home?” I ask.
“Chelsea, near the office.”
That’s a couple of miles, add in heels and a bottle of wine. “Do you want company?” The words are out before I have a chance to realize what I’ve asked.
“You want to walk me back to Chelsea?”
“I could use the fresh air. I’ve been stuck in my office all week, fighting fires. You don’t have to talk to me if you need to be alone, I just need to clear my head.”
Her brows pull together. “I’d like that.” Her answer surprises me, I thought for sure she would say no. I grab my keys and phone and lock up the gallery.
“Do you know where you are going?” I ask.
“Yeah, I put it in my phone. I have a rough idea. I like the idea of just wandering down the streets—they are so beautiful here—getting lost in the architecture, the history.”
Rosie is a beautiful woman, and in this moment, I want nothing more than to reach down, cup her face, and kiss her. But I can’t. And I won’t.
“Are you going to be okay in those heels?” I ask, staring down at her legs, quickly having a glance before zeroing in on her heels.
She shrugs. “Let’s see how I go. Otherwise, you might have to piggyback me all the way home.”
“Piggyback?” I question her.
“You know, when someone jumps on your back, and you carry them?” she explains. I shake my head. “Turn around and get ready to catch me,” she says, and the next thing I know, she’s jumping onto my back, and I grab her. “This is a piggyback ride.”
I turn my head, and our mouths are so close to one another that my eyes flick to her lips before returning. “I know, I wanted to see if you would do it.”
She gasps and hits me lightly before jumping down. I’m in fits of laughter, and she shakes her head and then flips me off which is the cutest thing. “You’re a dick. Maybe I should walk home alone.” She huffs as she starts walking away from me.
“Hold up, I’m sorry. I was messing around,” I say as I walk beside her. It’s nice being able to laugh like this, it feels like it’s been forever since I have.
“It was a good one,” she grumbles beside me, but the smile that is across her lips says she’s not angry about it.