Chapter 37 Rosie
ROSIE
Iwent outside to start my car, and Wesley followed me, claiming it wasn’t safe in the morning to be out alone. I reminded him we lived in one of the safest places, but he paid me no mind. He did, however, go to his truck and pull out tools and what looked like supplies.
“What’s all this?” I probed. But he just shot me a grin, telling me it was a surprise before he shut me into my car and waved goodbye from my driveway. I watched him in my rearview mirror as he stayed, eyes trained on me as I made my way out of my neighborhood.
A little puff of shock exited me as I made my way to work.
I was battling with myself the entire way there.
I was out of sorts, trying to come to terms with what was happening.
I wished I could sit there and say it wasn’t affecting me, that he wasn’t affecting me, but it would have been a lie.
Maybe if I admitted it out loud, I could figure out how to handle it.
I pulled into Orla’s in a state of discombobulation and started my shift with barely a wave. I checked the sheet up front, and saw Orla had put me in the bar section, so I started to greet the customers who were starting to sit down now that I was there and the section was open.
I’d been thankful for a possible reprieve from all things Wesley.
However, the sound of a breaking dish clattered around us, and I shot Orla my most apologetic look.
I was sorry—so sorry—but I, for the life of me, could not get it together.
I felt jittery, anxious, and nervous at the fact that Wesley was currently watching Lionel at my place.
“Not that I don’t love the way you break my dishes, but what has gotten into you this morning?” Orla made her way next to me, grabbing a condiment from the mini cooler below.
“I’m flustered, Orla,” I told her honestly.
“I see that. So care to explain?” She popped her hip out at me, and the look on her face let me know that while she was asking, she was really not asking.
“Wesley’s at my house, waiting for me to get off shift.”
“And this is causing you to break every plate we own?” Her eyes were wide in disbelief, like she didn’t quite understand why it threw me into such a state of disarray. And I was not exactly sure either.
“Ah,” she said, and started to wipe down the empty counter in front of us.
“What?” I didn’t say anything. She just continued to clean the counter.
“I just don’t buy it, Orla. I’ve known how I feel about him for years, and all of a sudden, he’s now in love with me.
Because someone pointed it out to him.” I gagged on those words as they played on repeat constantly.
Orla sprayed the spot she had just cleaned and continued to wipe it down, still not saying anything.
“I mean, can you believe that? I finally got it. I got it loud and clear, and I accepted that. I accepted it. I was letting him go—I was—and now, he’s just here.
And I just don’t fucking understand it. Why now?
Why, when a month ago, he was yelling at me in my kitchen about not being nice to his girlfriend?
Now, he’s in my kitchen, making Lionel tapas like he can’t imagine being anywhere else!
” I took the towel from Orla’s hands and started scrubbing the spot she had been working on.
“Have you thought about talking to him about it?” she asked, giving me a look like she was worried her question would set me off.
“Talking to him about what?”
“Well, everything.”
“Of course not.” I put even more power into cleaning the already shining spot.
“Maybe you should.”
“You’re just saying that so I stop breaking dishes.” I tried to steer the conversation away to something else, but she wasn’t having it.
“Sometimes, what we need isn’t always what we want to hear. And sometimes, in hearing that, we figure out what we actually want.”
“What does that even mean?” I threw the towel back at Orla.
“You’ll find out. Now, get back to work.” She moved away from me but gave me a knowing wink as she went.
? ? ? ?
Wesley’s car was still in the driveway when I pulled in, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
On one hand, I hoped that Lionel had behaved himself, for the most part.
On the other, Wesley was still there, and I was still sorting everything out.
As I got out of my car, I leaned against it, watching the front door, wishing I had X-ray vision so I could see what was going on inside so I could be a little bit more prepared.
“Last time you stood outside this long, you brought home Lionel.”
“Mr. Hansen!” My hand flew to my chest. I had been so lost in my thoughts of X-ray vision that I didn’t hear him approach. He reminded me of Meredith at that particular moment.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he offered. “Might have been slightly concerned you were about to unload another reptile all by yourself.” I waved away his worries with a smirk.
“Nothing like that, I promise. Just avoiding something, I think.”
“I’ve been there,” he told me. I looked over to him, a solemn look covering his face, his eyes cast forward but far away. “Word of advice?”
“Always.”
“Life’s too short to avoid the important things.” His words struck a cord with me, and even though I had never met his wife, I knew she was who he was thinking about. I reached out next to me, laced my fingers through his, and gave him a squeeze.
“I bet she was really special,” I whispered.
“She was—is,” he corrected himself, and brought his free hand over his heart like it hurt to even think about it. He pulled his fingers from mine. “Have a good rest of your day, Rosie. Tell Lionel I’ll stop by sometime this week.”
“I’ll let him know.” Both of us stepped away from the moment of truth that hung there. I made the short walk up my drive and stepped inside.
“I swear, Lionel, if you don’t stop, I’ll sick Jeanie on you…Okay, maybe not Jeanie. I do have a heart. But definitely Evelyn! Let go!”
I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to walk into, but I wasn’t disappointed when I saw Wesley on the ground on his chest, measuring a baseboard with a foot out to prevent Lionel from biting him.
“Am I interrupting something?” He flew into a standing position. Lionel didn’t bother to pay me any attention, and I knew he was pouting because I had left him with Wesley that morning. Clearly, the breakfast had no effect on him.
“You scared me,” he stated, taking in gulps of air.
I reminded myself it would be rude to laugh at him, but a small chuckle still managed to escape, and his features melted into something soft at the sound.
“I swear, we coexisted well together most of the day. He only started to get agitated just now.”
“Yeah, he usually starts to get cranky around noon if he hasn’t been given a snack,” I informed him, and realized that I might have forgotten to leave that little detail out that morning. Whoops. “What are you doing? And why is Lionel trying to eat a ruler?”
“What?” Wesley looked down to see what I’d been scoping out for the past minute or so, making sure he didn’t actually try to eat it. “Ah, Lionel. Come on, man,” he said as the tortoise broke it in half.
“That’s enough, Lionel. Go outside, and I’ll get your snack.” I scooched him toward the back as much as possible. It was shocking that he didn’t throw a tantrum, just going where I ushered him.
“Do you mind if I get it ready and give it to him?” Wesley asked. “I was reading that part of bonding with a tortoise is spending time together and hand-feeding.”
“Aren’t you worried you’ll lose a finger this time?”
He dismissed my concerns with a wave. “If that’s the price, I’ll pay it.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just stood in the kitchen awkwardly. Wesley started to move around me, assembling fruits and vegetables like he had earlier, but this time, instead of little bowls of everything, it was all laid out across a wooden board.
“Where did you get that?” I asked him. I was sure I didn’t have anything like that.
“I bought it.”
“You bought it?”
“Yes. How else was I going to make Lionel his very own ‘shell-cuterie board?’”
I stood, looking at him like he’d officially lost his mind. First the tapas, and now this. I felt like I had entered a different dimension and was smack-dab in the middle of a sitcom of my life.
What’s happening here? I thought I said to myself. But I must have said it out loud because Wesley shot me a smile. “What should have happened a long time ago.”
I wanted answers. I wanted to be an adult and ask those hard questions, but the other part of me just really wanted to spend a Sunday with my person. And as I continued to look at him while he moved around my kitchen with familiarity and ease, I decided to just let myself enjoy the moment with him.
“Ready for me to kick your ass in some mini games after this? Lionel’s lunch is ready,” he yelled out, but was already moving to take what he had assembled outside and directly to where Lionel was sunbathing.
“Absolutely.” I grabbed my favorite controller from what he had set up on my coffee table. “Don’t think I forgot about the fact that you were measuring my baseboards.” He came in and sat next to me, his thigh touching mine, and I almost swallowed my tongue.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He started the game, the familiar sound reverberating in the space between us, and I felt a piece of my soul settle in it.
“Your ass is so mine,” I told him as we got to the home screen.
“Yeah. Yeah, it is.” I felt his eyes burn into the side of my head, and bit my lip so I wouldn’t smile like a fool at his words.