Chapter 20 #2
“My father called me into the office today.”
“Oh.” She mumbles against my dress shirt. I feel the tight grip of her hands holding the fabric at my back, pulling me closer to her. “Bad day?”
“Disappointing day.”
Rosalie rests her chin against my chest, tilting her head up and melting away every crumb of stress that’s gathered. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say you’re sorry. You didn’t do anything.”
“I know. But I’m sorry you had a disappointing day.”
My lips meet her forehead before I can think about it. It feels right to shower her with kisses as soon as I get home. It makes me feel better, too. More relaxed and less annoyed with how poorly I handle every conversation with my father.
The only thing that worries me when Rosie is in my arms, is what might be troubling her.
“How are things going with you? In your program?”
Her head tilts. Expression twisting at the question. “Boys are boys.”
I sigh. I want to fix everything for her so badly.
Her throat bobs before saying, “I’m okay. I have a feeling they’ll have some choice words once they find out we’re together, but it’s fine. I’ll face it head-on for us.”
I grunt. I don’t like the sound of that.
“You shouldn’t have to face something like that at all. What you do is none of their business.”
“It isn’t. They’ll just think they get a say in it, and I have to live with that.”
Her brown eyes are piercing through me. Usually coated in passion or drive, they’re glossed with uncertainty, and there’s a stabbing pain in my chest.
“I hate that.”
“It’s fine. I want you more than I care about what they say. That’s a good thing.” The muscles in my face scrunch and she laughs. “It is! It’s shown me if I want something bad enough, I can tune out anything they throw at me. It’s not easy, but I can do it. For you, I can.”
Her cheeks are brushed pink. There’s still a glint in her eye that leans closer to unsure than anything else, but confidence radiates off her. Rosalie believes in what she says, and I believe in Rosalie.
I want to solve every problem for her. She deserves to be doted on in that way, never lifting a finger or concerning herself with anything. Unfortunately, I don’t think a life like that is totally possible, no matter how hard I wish for it to be.
At least I can do this for her. Trust in her, support her, and stand by her side, where I belong.
“Enough about me. You had a bad day. I want to help you and take care of you.” She’s already helped more than she’ll ever know.
Rosie quietly leads us to the couch, and instead of taking a seat on the left end, she finds a comfortable spot in my lap. My left arm supports her back, and her feet hang off the arm rest on my right. Before I can ask what she’s doing, her arms wrap around me, and she tucks her head into my neck.
“Okay. Talk.”
“Talk?”
“Yes. Tell me about your day.”
I mumble, “It was a disappointing day.”
“What was disappointing about it?”
I pause. Take a deep breath. I sit with my nerves for a moment. I’m still learning how to take the reins of a conversation. Doing so with one that holds weight like this is harder, but I want to try.
I want Rosalie to know my secrets. I trust her to hold them. I’ve just become so accustomed to keeping things to myself, sometimes it feels too hard to share.
While thinking over my past and present, my girl doesn’t push. She doesn’t poke at me to get going or question why I’m taking so long to speak. She waits quietly and patiently, and it’s exactly what I need.
Confirmation that if anyone truly understands me, it’s her.
“My father was horrible to his employees today. It was disgusting. And then, he was having this weird eye showdown with his business partner. It was pathetic.”
“Eye showdown?”
“Yes. They were staring at one another like they were waiting for the other to combust. It was so strange, but it made me pity him. They used to be friends. Now they hate each other. I can’t imagine money making someone’s heart so cruel.”
Rosalie hums, and I feel the vibrations in my chest, where everything else feels tight. “It does that to a lot of people.”
“Not me,” My hopes are choked out in a whisper. “I don’t want that to ever be me.”
“It won’t, Locke. The fact that you’re so upset just from watching someone else act that way, shows a lot about your character.”
My past actions make me scoff. “Yeah. I watched. I couldn’t even bring myself to say anything or stop him. I’m just as bad as he is.”
“That’s not fair.” Rosalie squeezes her arms around my waist. Her words should be comforting but I worry she sees a reality that doesn’t exist. “There’s a dynamic between you and your dad.
You grew up your whole life following after him, right?
He molded you to only listen to him, follow his orders, and never talk back.
He literally has control over your entire life—of course you hesitate to stand up against him.
How are you supposed to be your own person if he threatens your livelihood with his damn paychecks? ”
I chuckle, but it’s hollow and dry.
“What?”
“I’m a horrible person.”
She leans back to stare at me and I can’t bring myself to meet her eye. “You’re not! You told me he took away your apartment because you had some fun this summer. He keeps control over you with his authority and money and it’s so fucked up-”
“I don’t need his money, Rosalie. That’s the fucked-up part.”
There’s a smile on her face. It’s small and unassuming. I feel like an asshole.
“I agree you grew up with more money than any one person needs, but it’s still the life you’re used to. It’s horrible of him to upend it.”
The guilt is killing me. I’ve held onto this secret for my entire life. Partially because I knew it’d be dangerous to share, but also because I’m ashamed of it. There’s no greater proof of my cowardliness than this.
“I’m about to tell you something I’ve never told anyone before. Please don’t ever repeat it.”
“You know I wouldn’t.” When I bring myself to catch her eye, I nearly die inside. They hold such a softness—for me, so undeserving—and I vow to become a better person just for the right to say she’s mine. “But don’t feel like you have to tell me. If you want to keep it to yourself, you should.”
“No, no. I want to share it with someone. With you, specifically.” I grit my teeth and pray Rosie doesn’t change her mind about me after this.
“I don’t need my father’s money… because I have my own.
Lots of it. When I was in middle school, jumping around from hobby to hobby, our nanny had to keep contacting him.
Asking to provide more funds for our changing interests.
He got sick of hearing about me so often, and his solution was to give me a ‘for life fund’.
A lump sum of money I can use to spend on whatever I want, however I want, until I could make my own. It was a lot of money.”
I brace myself for her to push off me. I wait for her to voice how horrible of a person I am, because if I don’t need my father’s money, then why do I let him act this way?
She doesn’t. Rosalie hums and reaches her hand up to massage my temples. “Okay. But how much is ‘a lot’?”
“About ten million.”
It’s instant. Her movements freeze and her body tenses up. I feel my heart drop down into my stomach.
“You have… ten million dollars? In your bank account? At this very moment?”
“Nearly, yes.”
I’ve never noticed our kitchen sink faucet leaks, but I can hear it now. Every water drop hitting metal feels like a bang onto my ear drums. The apartment is silent aside from that. What’s left of my heart must have stopped beating. I can’t feel it anymore.
The outrageous stacks of cash have gathered cobwebs in my account for years. A younger me took liberties in spending it, at the beginning. Every gaming console on the market at the time was bought, and no trip on a random weekend was spared.
Then, I realized, if I didn’t need my father’s money, then I shouldn’t need him. So, I stopped spending on useless things. I created a secret account without telling him. I transferred the money over, knowing he’s too unconcerned with me to check.
Then, I saved.
I gave myself a reason to let him go, and so many years later, I still haven’t done it. It’s shameful.
“I’m just as bad as he is.”
The words were only meant to be thought. My mind decides to torture me with them, spoken in the gap of silence. I can’t remember a time Rosalie has ever been so silent.
“You hate me.”
“Oh my god, no, Locke!”
Those words escape me without intention, too. So do the quiet tears she gently wipes off my cheek.
“I don’t hate you. There’s no reason to hate you. I’m sorry I went silent. I was in shock.”
“Because you can’t believe I let my father act the way he does.”
“No.” She grunts. “Because you don’t realize it’s more than just money.”
It slices my chest open. I feel bare and exposed. It’s almost as if she ripped the revelation from the deepest parts of my soul, where I stored them away in secret.
I throw my glasses off and hide my head in my palm.
“I do realize it’s more than that. I thought, if I didn’t need his money, then I could separate myself.
I tried to gather the courage to do it for so long.
I couldn’t. My whole identity is dependent on him, and what he wants me to do and who he wants me to be.
I don’t know who I am without him. It’s so pathetic. ”
Rosalie shifts. Her legs go from hanging off the couch’s side, to surrounding my thighs, and her arms wrap around my neck.