30 – Little Bubble of Peace
Casey
I think the fumes of the glue are going to my head. I blink and shake my head, not realizing I’ve been hobbled over this re-bind for a few hours now, the ache in my knees evidence enough.
“You’re still at it? It’s 10pm, Casey,” Rosie chuckles as she drags her body from the entryway and falls to the couch.
“You’re home late.” I turn to her and give her the eyebrows.
“Ugh, it’s not what you think. Unless you’re thinking that I was held captive in my cubicle as Dickbag-Daniel mansplained why his general fiction pitch was more deserving of the editors’ pick than my ‘pathetic porno piece’. Then, yes. It is exactly what you think.” She heaves a huge sigh. “I need alcohol.” She groans and I chuckle, returning my attention to the book press, tightening the clamps to hold the glue in place, and then repositioning myself on the couch while I let it dry.
“That bad, huh?” I question her, and she tilts her head in my direction.
“I’m so sick of working at this huge company. It’s such a penis fest. My ideas are always shoved at the bottom of the pile and simply because a lot of my suggestions happen to be romance books with smut. It’s not like they are terribly written. These are heartbreaking tales with incredible love stories, and then we are gifted with what usually happens behind closed doors.” She throws her hands up as her voice raises, her passionate explanation getting progressively louder. “And you know what? Some don’t have any smut! Some are poetic pieces of literature in the modern form, written by extremely talented nobodies.” Her voice grows louder, my enjoyment at her animated venting growing with it.
“Might I add, I’m almost certain these idiots watch porn more often than I read it, but they are suddenly children of the church when I pitch a female written romance that describes how a man really should be loving on a woman.” She scoffs and sits up, her anger too much for lying down, apparently. A chuckle works its way up my throat as she aggressively grabs a pillow to her lap. “I wish I could just publish these books on my own.”
“Why don’t you, then?” She scoffs at my suggestion but, seriously?
“Rosie? Why the hell not? Actually, that is an excellent idea. Why don’t you go out on your own?”
“Please.” She waves me off, then heads for the kitchen
“Okay, no I’m actually serious, why don’t you? You’d be amazing at it!”
“Casey, I can’t just start my own publishing company! That’s… that’s just…” She trails off, looking at me, but not really looking at me, like she is actually finally considering the idea.
“Genius?” I try to finish her conversation for her and she stutters. Opening her mouth, closing it, then opening it again, and for the first time in history, Rosie is speechless.
“I hadn’t really considered that,” she mumbles. “Anyway, what book are you working on?” She maneuvers the conversation in a new direction, but I let her, all too excited about this project.
“I’m doing the Odyssey by Homer. It’s a gift.” I smile to myself and return my attention to the book currently drying, clamped to the coffee table.
“Ooo la la,” she teases from where she pours two glasses of wine.
Rolling my eyes, I shake my head, but don’t dignify the taunt with an answer. She is quiet for a beat, a loaded silence, and I can almost feel the words she is about to level me with.
“Have you talked to him about how you’re feeling?” she asks, and I’m grateful for how gently she does it.
I shake my head and look at my thumb, fidgeting with the ring that sits there. “He isn’t ready, Rosie.” She sips her wine and settles deeper into the couch, so I do the same. “We have so many amazing quiet moments, and I think I’ll get the courage to tell him. But then, it’s like he picks up on the energy and he shuts it down before I can even say anything. Sometimes I try to lead him there, try to gauge what he is feeling, and again, like he knows exactly what I’m doing, he either pushes me away or shuts it down.”
“Why put yourself through it, Case?” She almost frowns, but rubs a soft hand on my leg.
“Because he has this incredible heart. And without even meaning to, he just wormed his way in completely. I can’t bear to be the one to leave, because it’s the whole reason he is this way. He is terrified. I can see it. Jenny abandoned him when he was planning for their future. I mean, his heart is scared.” My chest aches as I give Rosie what’s been stuck in my head for weeks. Jessie and I dancing around our hearts. Giving into our lust, the fiery passion that buzzes around us every time we’re alone together. We’ve barely spent a night apart in over a month, and it all just feels so normal. So easy and perfect. Like how we are is exactly the way it’s meant to be. So much so that there have been countless times the words I feel nearly fall from my tongue, but I have to stop. Because I know he isn’t ready for them, and I don’t want to risk losing my little bubble of peace because my heart couldn’t keep to itself.
Rosie blows out a huge breath, sipping her wine, and opens her mouth to say something when a knock at the door startles us both.
“You expecting someone?” I ask her. She never brings her dates here, but it was at least worth asking. She shakes her head. “Me, neither.” We look concerned and then Rosie nods at the book. Oh shit. It’s probably Jessie! “Crap, cover it with a blanket. I’ll just take him straight to my room.” I quickly leap from the couch.
“Yeah, you will,” Rosie teases, poking her tongue to her cheek and making a vulgar gesture with her fist. I scoff a laugh at her and quickly check the book is covered before I swing the door open.
My smile dies as quickly as it appeared when I see who stands at my door.
“Connor?”