Chapter 21
Xavier
I owed Rosalee an apology. I knew I did.
I'd snapped at her after she helped me with the shower when she was only trying to make things easier for me.
I owed her a hell of a lot more than an apology, and I wanted to give it to her, but I needed it to be a damn good one.
So I kept my distance, which, it turned out, was pretty damn easy to do since she'd taken distance to global proportions.
The cabin was big, but not so big that I shouldn't have seen Rosalee for going on three days.
But that was the truth of it. Sure, there were traces of her everywhere.
She made meals—enough for me—even though she hadn't called me down once.
Every time I went to the kitchen, there was food for me, not on a plate, because she was angry, but warm on the stove.
No note and no expectations.
Just food.
Even when she was ignoring me, Rosalee was being kind. It was a kindness I didn't deserve, which only made me feel even more guilty. "Fuck."
My phone buzzed on the bed, and I reached for it instinctively.
It was a small video from Rosalee of Violet as she walked across the living room and right into Rosalee's arms. They were right downstairs, and I'd missed this milestone.
I'd missed it because I was a stubborn, surly bastard who always let my emotions get in the way, even though I pretended not to have any. "Son of a bitch!"
I hated this shit—emotions and feelings.
This was why I'd moved up to the mountain and kept to myself as much as fucking possible.
People were too complicated, with messy emotions that they worked hard not to reveal, leaving you to guess what was wrong or what they were feeling instead of just saying the words outright.
I stood and fell back down, putting too much weight on my still-tender ankle. "Fuck!" The pain roared out of me, but I got up slower on my second attempt and limped my way down the steps and into the living room where Violet and Rosalee were giggling together. "She walked?"
Rosalee's smile dimmed, but she nodded. "You saw the video."
"I did." I stepped inside and took a seat. "Were those her first steps?"
She paused for a moment, and I could tell she wanted to say yes, but after a brief war with herself, she shook her head. "No. She took her first steps the day you came home—um, came back to the cabin with your ankle."
My shoulders sank in disappointment. "Thank you for the video."
"Of course. That's my job."
"Look, Rosalee," I began, still unsure of what I wanted to say to her but knowing that I needed to say something.
She held up a hand to stop my words. "No. Don't bother with... with anything, Xavier." She stood abruptly with Violet in her arms and handed her to me. "I think you two need to spend more time together. I'll go work on lunch."
I didn't want to let her go without a proper apology, not just because I owed it to her but because she deserved it.
But in this moment with Violet in my arms, her big blue eyes blinked up at me, a small smile tipping her rosebud lips up at the corners.
"You walked, baby girl. You took your first steps, and I wasn't here to see them.
I'm so fucking sorry for that. Shit, I mean, I'm just sorry that I missed it, and I promise you I won't miss anything else important.
I swear." She smelled incredible, like lavender and baby powder.
"Ba ba baba bagaba!"
I laughed because that was the only thing to do in the face of such cuteness. "I'll do better, Violet. That's a promise."
Too soon, before I was ready, she was asleep in my arms. I wasn't sure how to get up on my ankle with her in my arms, so I called out to Rosalee.
She came back to the living room and stood on the other side of the coffee table, an unreadable expression on her face as she took in the scene. "Right." Moving into action, she scooped Violet from my arms and rushed from the living room.
I listened as she moved around upstairs, which gave me enough time to stand and head to the kitchen. A minute later, soft footsteps sounded on the stairs, but I waited for her to head back to the living room, but she never did.
She stopped with a gasp at the sight of me in the kitchen but recovered quickly, smoothing her hands down her jeans before she turned back to the stove.
"Rosalee," I began, but this time I was more confident, and I refused to let her give me a pass I didn't deserve. "I'm sorry. I am so fucking sorry for snapping at you when you were just trying to help me. You didn't deserve that, not at all, and I'm sorry."
She didn't say anything for a long time as she stood frozen at the stove. And then she sniffled, and I felt it right in the middle of my chest. "Apology accepted," she said after a silence that seemed to last at least an eternity.
I should've felt relaxed, calm, or at the very least, less guilty. But I didn't. "You accept my apology?"
She nodded.
I might not be all that great with women, but I knew enough to know that a simple nod could mean a million different things. "Do you forgive me?"
She sighed and turned to me with red eyes, a devastated expression on her face. "Do you want my forgiveness, Xavier?"
That question felt like a trap, which once again reminded me why I opted out of relationships.
"It's a pretty simple question, Xavier. Are you saying all this because you mean it or because you're worried I might quit and you'll have to learn to care for Violet on your own until you find my replacement?" She folded her arms and watched me carefully.
I had no fucking clue how to respond to that. "I feel bad for snapping at you the way I did. It was uncalled for, and that's not me."
She snorted and rolled her eyes.
That was fair. "Okay, fine, it's not who I want to be. I want to be—no, I need to be—better for Violet."
"Right." She turned her back to me but only for a second before she turned back with a big, steaming pot and set it on the table.
She did it again before she took her seat.
"Here's a tip, Xavier. If you want to be better for Violet, try getting a handle on your emotions so you don't treat people like crap and then apologize.
Try just not treating people like a burden. "
"You're not a burden," I insisted, rubbing my chest as her words smacked against it.
"I'm not important enough to you to be a burden. I'm the help," she said simply, as if that's all she thought she was to me.
"That's not true."
She scooped up a heaping spoonful of buttery mashed potatoes onto her plate and then ladled some brown sauce over them before she returned to our conversation.
"It is true, Xavier, and I don't need you to sugarcoat it for the sake of my feelings.
I'm well aware of who I am and what I am to you, but I am still a person and I deserve basic respect. "
"You deserve a hell of a lot more than that."
She laughed, and the sound was bitter and brittle.
"I'm sure that I do, but I'm not sure you're capable of more, so just treat me like I'm a human being.
That's all I ask." She took a few bites of the food that teased my nostrils, but she didn't seem to enjoy it, and I was sure that it was my fault.
Again.
"You don't have to worry about me quitting. I plan to fulfill the terms of my contract, so let's just stop whatever this is." Her honey-brown gaze stared at me, studied me as if she was trying to figure me out, but eventually, she just gave up with a heavy sigh and a shrug. "Please."
Her words should have pleased me—she wasn't quitting, and that was good news—but they didn't. They held a hint of finality, as if she was closing the door on everything. Our friendship and us, everything but her job as a nanny. "I hope we can still be friends."
She dropped her spoon and glared at me with the intensity of a sworn enemy.
"We were never friends, Xavier. I thought we were at one point.
I thought you were opening up to me, maybe seeing me as something more than the hired help.
I even thought that maybe we could be more than friends, but that was just wishful thinking.
I was nothing more to you than a convenience, and I've accepted that.
You need to as well." She pushed away from the table and shook her head.
"I'll clean this later," she mumbled and then left the kitchen.
I felt like a complete asshole. I sat there and apologized for snapping at her when I was in pain, completely ignoring the time before that when I treated her badly. Like a convenience, she'd said. It wasn't true, but it was accurate.
My feelings for her had shocked me and pissed me off. The truth was, they scared the hell out of me, and I reacted terribly. If you asked my brother, he'd say I reacted the way I always do—by retreating—and he would be right. "Fuck!"
I had to make this right.
No, fuck that. I would make this right.
I had to make her see that nothing about the way I was starting to feel about her was convenient. Not at fucking all.