Chapter 26 Rosie
ROSIE
“You look hot,” Carol said as she popped her gum and flipped through her phone while I got ready for my first date.
She had begrudgingly told me she would hang out with Lionel for a bit.
I’d started to feel guilty about how much time I spent away from him on the weekends.
Even though I worked from home, I still felt bad.
There was something about the way he looked at me when I would finally get back that screamed judgment.
I tried to explain to him that I couldn’t spend my entire life in that house with him, but he only gave me a look that said, yeah, you can.
Suddenly, I was the crazy lady who was begging her neighbors and friends to watch her tortoise when she went out on a date.
I had explained my woes to the book club, and they decided that they would move the book club to my house on Saturdays instead, and Orla so kindly cut down one of my shifts at the diner so I had Friday nights free to date and Saturdays for book club and Lionel.
On Sunday mornings, I would still work there.
She also said her pocketbook would thank her with all the dishware she would save, and I was thankful she didn’t fire me all together. I would miss Matt and Daniel. Matt always telling me to just wait ten more years. Daniel trying to feed me all the carbs.
So there Carol was, watching Lionel while I got ready for my first date out of the contenders.
Peter—the guy Evelyn had picked out for me—was free that night, and had asked if he could cook for me.
After a lengthy text and information exchange so I didn’t end up as a meat suit, I agreed to dinner at his place.
“Your phone keeps pinging,” Carol told me as I continued to look at myself in the mirror.
I didn’t need to look to know who it was.
The past two weeks had been a steady rhythm of life while I did everything in my power to dodge Wesley in town, his calls, and his texts—which came through a few times a day.
I had yet to really read any of them. I didn’t know what to say.
I thought I had made it perfectly clear that I just needed some space, but he was more relentless than ever.
I put him to the back of my mind as I gave myself one final look.
I went with the rusty trusty little black dress.
It went well with my black-rimmed glasses, and my pink lip gloss tied it all up in a pretty but still casual way.
Lionel was sprawled out in the middle of my floor, and I pulled a carrot out of the purse I had chosen for the evening and gave it to him.
“Please tell me you did not just pull a carrot out of your purse?” Carol questioned. I could only shrug at her.
“You really need some boundaries with him,” she tells me.
Lionel craned his neck up toward her, giving her one of his glacial glares.
She held her hands up in defeat. “Or not. Continue to have an unhealthy attachment to a reptile,” she said, but there was only humor in her tone, not judgment.
She continued to scroll on her phone and smack her gum while she did so.
Lionel gave me a Really? You know I hate her glare, but he was shit out of luck.
Mr. Hansen—or Larry, as he wanted me to call him—had plans.
“You better go, or you’re going to be late,” Carol sing-songed at me. “Quit doubting yourself. And I have his entire backstory in case you go missing.”
“It seems ill-advised to go to someone’s house you don’t know. I’m worried he’s going to make me into a meat suit,” I voiced my earlier worries to her.
“Isn’t he a vegan?” Carol asked.
“What in the world does that have to do with me ending up as a serial killer’s next victim?”
“I feel like if they don’t eat meat, they wouldn’t kill a person! Right? Like, that has to be some sort of unspoken code.” She tried to explain her thought process to me.
“I think it would be in everyone’s moral code to not be a serial killer. And I think a serial killer could absolutely be vegan.”
“I suppose you’re right…” She appeared to mull over my words.
“That’s it. I’m not going.”
“He is not a serial killer, and you’re going. You have this sexy accountant thing going on, and maybe he’ll have some natural thing for you to try…If you catch my drift.” Carol waggled her eyebrows at me in a suggestive manner
“I think a nun would catch your drift.”
“Good. Now get going.” She hopped off the bed and all but pushed me out of my room.
“Okay, okay. Relax. I’m going, I’m going. It would be rude to cancel now.” I said it to convince myself more than her, because I absolutely did want to cancel.
“Even if he’s a serial killer.”
If looks could kill, she’d be dead right now.
“I’m kidding! Gosh, loosen up.” She walked me to the door of my own house and shoved me out. “Stay out late. Stay out all night, in fact.”
“If I’m out all night, call the police.”
She rolled her eyes at me but nodded, and I waved at her one last time before I got into my car and plugged in Peter’s address. Thankfully, it was only ten minutes away.
I tried not to think about much as I made my way there, because when I stopped and started to think, I thought about Wesley’s confused face over coffee, the way he appeared to be cataloging everything about me down to my microexpressions. It was unnerving, if I thought about it, so I didn’t.
The amount of unread messages I had from him sent a thrill through me.
They shouldn’t have, but they did. I was only human, after all.
Human and weak. That was why it was best to avoid him for the foreseeable future until I had rid myself of all feelings.
I couldn’t fall back into the routine of being a wallflower—or even worse, a placeholder for him.
A placeholder while he searched for his forever.
Even still, that thought rocked me to my core, and I felt bile rise in the back of my throat as I pushed the thought down.
I absolutely did not need to be thinking that way before a first date.
That was exactly why I didn’t need to think about Wesley at all.
I shoved everything back into the Wesley box I had built in the deepest corners of my mind, heart, and soul.
Luckily, the drive was quick and fast. I pulled into an apartment complex that had seen some better days, but who was I to judge?
A roof over your head was a roof over your head.
I unlocked my phone, shooting off a quick text to Carol, letting her know I got there just fine, once again ignoring the plethora of unread notifications that littered my inbox and call log.
I made my way to the front vestibule that led inside the apartment building, unable to stop the frown when I realized that it didn’t lock, and anyone could get in the front door. Not safe. There would be no overnights there.
I made my way to his apartment 607. I knocked, hearing music seeping through the underside of the door, and I knocked again when there was no answer, and assumed he just couldn’t hear me.
This time, the door flew open in a few seconds, and there stood a man who reminded me of a string bean at first. I had to push that rude thought down.
He was so tall and very skinny that I was worried I would snap him in half.
His hair was almost white, with how blonde it was, his eyes a crystal blue.
He was striking, stunning, and off-putting in a way.
“Rosie?” His voice was deeper than I would have expected. When I nodded, he pulled me in by my elbow.
“It’s so good to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from Evelyn.
” He ushered me into his place. It smelled faintly of…
dirt, and my nose scrunched up at the scent.
It tingled my senses, and I had to rub the itch away to prevent myself from sneezing.
It almost felt like my allergies were acting up.
“It’s nice to meet you too. How long have you lived here?
” I asked in an attempt at keeping the conversation going, not wanting there to be many awkward silences.
I was already feeling awkward enough, and extremely overdressed as I took in his casual T-shirt that was ripped around the collar and faded blue jeans.
Almost like Peter could sense what I was thinking, he turned to look at me.
“You look fabulous, Rosie. I checked out both of our horoscopes today, and there are high hopes for the evening.” He shot me a goofy grin, and for a second, he reminded me of Shaggy from Scooby-Doo.
I had to hold in my snort. “And to answer your question, I’ve lived here since college.
Why leave a place that has good vibes, you know? ”
Maybe because it is clearly an apartment for college kids.
“Oh, well, that’s nice. If you’re happy, that’s really all that matters.”
He beamed at me like I’d passed some kind of test I hadn’t known I was taking.
“Exactly! You should try explaining that to my parents. They are always on my case about not taking my life seriously enough. Like chill out, dudes. I’m only thirty-five.
I’m still young. There’s more than enough time to settle down. ”
That’s not exactly what I was saying, but…
“You know, I was worried about this. Being set up. But you seem like a really cool chick, Rosie, so make yourself at home while I finish up dinner.”
“Oh. Uh, thank you.” Not really sure what else to say, I just walked around the living room attached to his kitchen by a peek-a-boo window.
I took in the lava lamp, the tie-dye sheet that hung up on one wall, and the Bob Marley poster strung up behind the television.
I felt like I was reliving my college days, when I went home with the head of a fraternity, or maybe that guy who offered me a joint while I was waiting for my walking tacos from the food truck parked outside the bar.
The smell of outside and dirt was wafting from the kitchen, and my stomach turned down. But I was bound and determined to make the best of it. And I wouldn’t offend Evelyn by being rude. Although I had to wonder what she was thinking…
“I made us smoothies as an appetizer before dinner!” Peter suddenly appeared in front of me and thrust a cup of green sludge into my hand, and clinked the rims together.
Before I could offer any sort of protest or reasonable explanation why I could not drink it, the damage was done, and I was raising the glass to my lips.
Oh, no.
“That’s better than I thought!”
My mind blanked. Do not puke. Do not puke on his floor. His shag-carpeted floor. Unable to come up with anything other than the truth, I said, “That tastes like grass.”
“It is!”
Do not hurl, I tell myself again. But I felt my face turn the color of my drink—green.
“Oh, no.” I covered my hand over my mouth. It was far worse than pistachio egg toast, and I choked back my vomit. “Excuse me,” I said. I beelined for the small bathroom I had clocked while I was taking everything else in, and promptly emptied the contents of my stomach into his toilet.
Worst date ever. I was going to kill Evelyn.
I was mortified. There was no way he didn’t hear the fact that I just threw up his grass smoothie into the toilet, the thought of the drink alone making my stomach roll again.
Once the ill feeling faded, I washed my mouth out with water, thoroughly washed my hands, and made my way back out to face the music.
“You okay?” he asked me, concern etched all over his face.
“I think I had some bad chicken for lunch,” I fibbed. I couldn’t tell him it was from what he just gave me.
“Oh, no. See, this is why I made the switch to vegan. Listen, let’s reschedule.
I’ll look at our star charts and reach out with which day will work best for us.
” He gave me such an earnest look that I found myself nodding in agreement at a reschedule, knowing that was never going to happen, before offering him a small hug, a wave, and a quick goodbye before I hightailed it out of there.
Grass smoothies: one.
Rosie: zero.