Chapter 12Rose
Chapter 12
Rose
“J en, this is blackmail. Don’t pretend otherwise!”
I glared at her—and her partner-in-crime, Mica—from my “jailhouse” on the couch. Granted, it was a pretty cushy jailhouse, with pillows plumped behind my back and Grandma’s quilt tucked carefully around my bandaged legs. My e-reader sat close at hand on the coffee table, along with my phone, the remote control, a glass of water, chocolate bars from the café and a box of tissues. Princess was curled up at (or on) my feet, and Pirate lay on the floor, wedged between the couch and the table.
But still, a jailhouse. Just with benefits.
Rafe was no help. In fact, he was part of the problem. He leaned against the doorframe to the dining room, arms crossed with flexed biceps stretching his T-shirt’s sleeves. He watched me impassively while Jen worked her blackmail magic.
“Rose,” Jen said patiently, with a sprinkle of mom-splaining, “you know you can’t wait any longer to call Finn and let him know what happened.”
I nodded, grudgingly. I’d slept for hours, and it was late afternoon now. While I’d tinkered with the idea of not telling my son, a little voice that sounded suspiciously like Mom’s whispered that’s not fair, sweetie, that’s not right .
“And you know,” Mica continued, “he is truly going to lose his shit and want to come home immediately unless—”
Before I could get a word in, Jen finished up the tag team act, “—Unless we have a plan, and that plan involves Rafe moving in to your apartment until Finn comes home for the holidays.”
See, that was where Rafe was part of the problem. Because after announcing that he was moving into my garage apartment early this morning, he’d already carried out that move by early this afternoon.
Even before I dropped off to sleep, I’d regretted falling apart on Rafe. What a scaredy-cat. Get it together! You’ve dealt with worse than this.
But by the time I’d woken up, he’d returned with two duffel bags stuffed full of the necessities—whatever those were—for him and his pup. He’d claimed he’d only stay a few days until I recovered, adding he didn’t want me on my own if the bad guys came back. I may have rolled my eyes at that, because…I needed to get used to being on my own.
I agreed that his staying would free up Jen, Mica and Mateo to return to their families this evening. It would also prevent Lauren from hopping on the next plane back here in the midst of her divorce and custody difficulties.
Now my girls insisted that “just a few days” with Rafe on board—and all up in my space—should turn into more than two months. They demanded that he stay until mid-December when Finn came home for winter break, Mike returned to the roaster job, and Rafe left for his next gig.
Jen and Mica swore—on the heads of their firstborn dogs—that they’d hunt down a permanent tenant for the apartment by the time Finn went back to school in late January.
So, yeah, I got it. My friends and large-and-in-charge Rafe didn’t want me to be on my own after what happened with the break-in. And if my safety were in question, this would be the tipping point for Finn. He knew I was feeling lonely after the loss of Mom, and he’d use this as an excuse to quit school and move home.
I was not letting that happen. That was a promise to Mom I could keep.
I needed to suck it up and accept help. I needed to accept that Rafe was part of the solution, not part of the problem. I’d even accept the bossiness from Rafe, which, I had to admit, came with a generous dose of sweetness.
He was the one who’d set me up with my jailhouse benefits and made sure I took some painkillers. He’d checked all my bandages twice since I’d woken up, gently blotting off the blood, and replaced them on my hands. He’d fed and watered the dogs, along with taking them out back to do their business.
And, apparently, Rafe staying at my place was just part of the plan.
The Plan-with-a-Capital-P had emerged right after I’d left the café this morning. While Rafe was getting me situated, Mateo had called in the troops—our crew, my girls, other friends and neighbors—and started things rolling.
Thankfully, everyone had agreed not to text, call or email Finn before I had a chance to talk to him.
I hadn’t been in charge, like usual, since I was sitting on my heinie. But surprise, surprise—things had gotten done without me, as I learned later.
While I was lounging at home, the kids had swept up every speck of broken glass and mopped the floors and sidewalks. Rafe and Mateo had nailed up big sheets of plywood to cover the gaping holes. Jean-Luc had picked up lunch for everyone, and Liam had called in favors with his suppliers to rush the replacement windows order.
Don’t get me wrong—I appreciated all the help. I just wasn’t quite sure how I was going to pay for the things the insurance wouldn’t cover. But I’d stress over that tomorrow when my hands, knees and head weren’t throbbing so much.
After Mateo’s mom had heard what happened, she brought a hot dinner to my house—her famous and fabulous enchiladas. I could look at it as another form of blackmail…or maybe a bribe, since Jen and Mica insisted I wait to eat until after I’d made the difficult call to Finn.
Once I got over myself about not being in charge, I hugged and thanked my girls, as well as Liliana. She promised to pass on my thanks—and a hug—to Mateo. I even briefly considered adding a hug for Rafe. My better angels prevailed.
Everybody left—my friends to their homes and Rafe to the kitchen—to give me some privacy to call my son.
“Finn,” I said, when he answered his phone, “first off, everything’s fine.”
What everybody wants to hear as the opening to a call. As in, never.
I went on to share the unemotional facts about the break-in and quickly followed with the Plan. As any mother would, I downplayed the scary bits—like the bad guys still being there when I ran up with the bat, like scoring my cuts and bruises when I fell on the broken glass, like losing it on Rafe’s shoulder.
When I got to the part about Rafe moving into the apartment just for now until you come home for Christmas, my son said one word, “Stop.”
He went on, “Mom. I’m so glad you’re okay. Now, hand the phone to Rafe. Please.”
I wanted to resist, but the “please” got me. After calling Rafe to come take the phone, I parked myself on a dining chair. I could only hear one side of the conversation. But from Rafe’s customary short answers, it appeared Finn was verifying my side of the story—and asking what I’d left out. After a couple of minutes of this back-and-forth, he grunted his agreement with yeah, I’ll make sure your mom sees her own doc this week. They exchanged numbers, and Rafe handed my phone back to me.
Finn informed me that he loved me (I already knew this). That he was going to call all three of his honorary aunts tomorrow—they’d have more to tell. And that he was driving home for Thanksgiving weekend, no argument, since this was a change from staying on campus to study. After extracting a promise from me that I’d call immediately if-slash-when the next emergency reared its ugly head, he ended the call.
Huh. Evidently, I had two over-protective males watching over me now—one my still-a-teenager son and one my brand-new employee.
As my son used to say as a toddler, you’re not the boss of me.
Rafe walked past me to the living room, carrying two plates loaded with enchiladas, along with forks and a roll of paper towels tucked under one arm. He frowned when I tried to clear a space on the coffee table with my bandaged hands.
Yeah, it took a moment, but I managed fine, thank you very much. Rafe pushed Princess to the floor and nudged Pirate over so he could create a spot on the other end of the couch. I clicked on the TV to watch some rom-com on Netflix—he didn’t protest—and we ate in silence.
After we finished our meal, Rafe checked a piece of paper on the coffee table and walked into the kitchen. I snuck a look while he was out. He’d been keeping track of the times for my meds. He returned with a fresh glass of water and two more ibuprofen.
We sat for a while more to watch the rest of the movie. By the ending credits, I was slumping sideways. Yeah, I needed to call it a day.
Rafe let the dogs out back one last time. Then he rattled all—and I meant all—the doors and windows on the first floor to make sure they were locked tight. He grumbled around the rooms, muttering something about needing more security here and different locks there. As if I had the money…
Grabbing my phone from the coffee table, I pushed myself upright and took a couple of steps toward the entry hall and stairs. Did I wobble? Yep. Did those stairs look daunting? Double yep. Would I end this horrible day asking for help in my own home? Nope.
Rafe made a move my way, like he was going to scoop me up again.
Shaking my head— fido, that ached —I waved him off and clomped over to the foot of the stairs. He hovered right behind me, like a guard dog afraid I’d collapse at any moment.
That’s what happened when you showed any sign of weakness. I didn’t want to rely on his help when he’d be gone at any moment.
Grasping the handrail, I pulled myself up the stairs, one step at a time. Rafe tracked my progress sooo close behind me—if I fell backward, we’d both tumble all the way down.
Or, more likely, he’d catch me. But I wasn’t counting on that.
The doggos followed us into my new bedroom, Pirate to settle in his huge bagel bed in the corner and Princess to snuggle against my leg for one last ear rub.
I was no fool. Since I was a smidge shaky, I asked Rafe to wait by the door while I brushed my teeth—awkwardly – and did my business—even more awkwardly. I left off the face-washing for now, because, well, bandaged hands.
Anyway, I’d never put on any makeup, given I’d started my day by running out of my house like a madwoman.
When I stepped out of the bathroom, he had my phone in his hand. I raised an eyebrow, and he said, “Sorry. Checking to see if your battery is charged up.” He didn’t sound that sorry.
He walked back to the door while I kicked off my slippers and climbed into bed.
“Rafe, please, hang on a moment.” I drew in a deep breath. “I couldn’t let today end without telling you how relieved I was to see you walking in the door this morning. I was hurting, and I looked up…and there you were. Thank you for everything you did for me today.”
The sides of his mouth quirked up. He turned out the light and said, “Good night, Rose.”
I turned on my side and burrowed under the covers. “Good night, Rafe, sleep tight,” I murmured as I was drifting off to sleep. Wait, wait, I thought to myself. What did I say? But then my exhaustion dragged me under.