Chapter 29Rafe
Chapter 29
Rafe
I t was Monday morning of Thanksgiving week, and I was totally fucked up.
I stood in Rose’s bathroom shoving my shaving gear, toothbrush and paste, deodorant and other stuff into my Dopp kit. I’d been using her shampoo in the shower—something that smelled like roses, believe it or not. Kinda girly, but why dupe when you didn’t need to? I aimed to get her a replacement bottle today and go back to my old generic brand.
I was lying. Lying to myself, worst of all.
I was going to buy two bottles of the flower-scented shampoo, one to give to Rose and one to use in the bathroom back at the garage apartment. It’d be a reminder of the best shower sex in my life—well, the only shower sex, if I was honest with myself.
Rose had asked me to move back into the apartment before Finn and Lauren arrived this evening. They were expected in time for dinner. Finn was staying in his childhood bedroom and Lauren in Rose’s old room.
I got it. I did. And respected it. From Rose’s viewpoint, she wasn’t throwing any new stuff Finn’s way right on the heels of his first semester at college and the first Thanksgiving without his grandmother. She was a good mamma, the best.
Didn’t mean I wasn’t feeling the loss though. Hard.
Usually I kept that shit under check. I stuffed any feelings away and moved on—literally. I couldn’t afford them if I were traveling light.
This time, not so much.
It wasn’t only the daily, sometimes twice daily, lovemaking I’d miss. Although that was fucking spectacular. We’d christened the shower after the chocolate-tasting mess, and it’d become one of our favorite spots.
My lathered-up hands running all over her curves, inside and out. Kneeling in front of her, the water pounding on my back.
No, I’d also miss living with Rose. This was the first time ever I’d lived with a woman, any woman, my woman. That meant, while we occupied the same airspace, I claimed responsibility for her well-being—whether she liked it or not.
Yeah, I’d avoided looking out for others since getting out of the army—caring for Princess was about the best I could manage. Now I was getting all bent out of shape because I was headed back to that solo existence sooner than scheduled.
Go figure.
Of course, Rose had fought me tooth and nail on assuming too many duties. It had been a matter of “she said, he said.”
She’d said I don’t need your help, I can do it on my own. I’d said Tough shit, if I’m living here, I’m doing my share to make your life easier.
I’d fixed her a hot breakfast every day because she tried to run out the door on a cup of coffee. I’d filled the grocery cart with healthy shit that she generally avoided in favor of ice cream. I’d dealt with household chores so she could crash after her busy days.
The thing I’d miss the most from living together? Drifting off to sleep curled around her and waking up still wrapped around her, shielding her.
Well, yeah, I’d also miss the talking—another first for me. Or, more, I’d miss listening to Rose talk.
Sure, I’d done some sharing. Rose had coaxed me for my story in her gentle yet relentless way. I’d edited or skimmed over the details, leaving out the bleak parts of my foster experiences and the sad parts of losing brothers in the sandbox wars.
When she’d squeezed my hand while we walked the dogs or buried her face in my neck while we sat on the couch, I’d suspected she’d read between the lines.
What I hadn’t shared yet—what Pete had urged me to tell Rose—was the rest of my story. I was running out of time, and I hadn’t gotten to the parts I feared most.
Rocky had called over the weekend and said he wanted me earlier than planned. That meant leaving the roastery…and leaving Rose…by the beginning of the first week in December. I’d told Rose right away—it was only fair. Her face had dropped before she thanked me for letting her know. I hadn’t said anything about returning or about us, other than I’d roast as much coffee as I could before I left.
So I was both fucked up and a coward.
I knew I was a fucking coward the moment I considered writing the shameful parts of my past on those sticky note things she plastered everywhere. Before I could grab the pad and add some to the bathroom mirror, I pushed back from the sink.
Man up, soldier. Trust Rose with your entire story. She’ll understand why you’re not good enough for her and why you have to leave.
I nodded at my reflection and walked out of the bathroom. Decision made. I wouldn’t put it off any longer. Well, any longer than one more week. I’d have “the talk” with Rose after the Thanksgiving weekend.
“What’s up, manito?”
I heaved the big-ass turkey into the space I’d made in the Chocolate Lab’s refrigerator and turned around to face Mateo. I’d already found a place for the smoked ham on a lower shelf. Bottles of white wine were chilling in another part of the fridge, and red wine sat on the adjacent counter.
The wines for Thanksgiving were courtesy of Jean-Luc, no surprise. The turkey and ham were my contribution to the cause…and a surprise for Rose. I’d volunteered to pick up the preordered meats from the butcher shop today to free up their coolers for other orders.
Actually, I’d volun told Rose I’d do pickup duty for a couple of reasons. The brakes had been feeling mushy on her POS car—an easy fix, but it would need to wait until next week. I also wanted to avoid a debate about who was paying for this part of the Thanksgiving dinner.
“Hey, brother, nothing much. Just storing the bulky things here rather than in Rose’s fridge at home. She said she’d retrieve the turkey early Thursday morning when she has her mamma’s stuffing ready.”
“Yeah, you haven’t lived until you’ve had Mrs. Connolly’s cornbread and sausage stuffing. Well, I guess it’s Rose’s recipe now—right?” Mateo raised an eyebrow. “You better get ready, man.”
“Ready? Ready for what?” I’d only had turkey day dinner in the mess hall before, my life lacking big family holiday gatherings.
“For the crowd at Rose’s for Thanksgiving. Upward of twenty-five people—and that’s not counting the dogs. Everybody brings something. They add leaves to the dining table so they can keep adults and kiddos together. We’ve been coming for years, even before Papá died. They take everyone in—family, friends, orphans who don’t have family around. That’s how Jean-Luc got invited the first time. I heard Pete’s coming this year too.”
That’s right. Pete had mentioned that his daughter and grandkids were going to the in-laws, and he didn’t want to drive back and forth to Seattle. He’d see them all here for Christmas.
“Thanks for the heads-up. Rose gave me setup duty for the night before, and now I know what that means. She also said Finn’s in charge of peeling and mashing the potatoes. Sounds like KP duty to me.”
We smirked at each, remembering our early days of KP in the army.
“Do you want to hit Hair of the Dog tonight with Jean-Luc and me?” I asked. “We’re heading there about seven-thirty for some pizza and beers.”
“What? You’re not staying around to have dinner with Rose and her boy?”
“Nope. That’s a family reunion. I’m not part of that.”
I must have sounded a little abrupt. Mateo narrowed his eyes at me.
“Oh. Sorry. I thought that since you’ve been staying with Rose—”
I cut him off. “We’ve been keeping that on the down low, at least from Finn. He still believes I’m living in the garage apartment. In fact, I moved back there this morning.”
If Mateo picked up anything from my borderline rudeness, he was decent enough not to say so. “No worries—I can keep a secret. And yeah, I’ll join you guys around nine. Gotta close up here tonight since Rose will be spending time with Finn and Lauren. Save some pizza for me.”
I gave a chin lift and walked down the hallway to start the afternoon’s roasting.
On cue, all three of us pushed back from our table. The top was littered with pizza scraps and empties.
“I’m out,” said Mateo. “I gotta get up early to open the café.”
Jean-Luc nodded. “Me too. Seems like tout le monde decided to pick up wine orders for Thanksgiving a day early.”
“Yeah,” I added. “I’ve got a full day of roasting ahead.” And I’m gonna take both dogs out for their last walk of the day.
I didn’t say that part out loud. Neither of the guys knew that Rose and I had been walking Princess and Pirate together most every evening for the last two months. It wasn’t a secret so much—doing it more for Rose’s safety than anything else. But still…our private thing.
Tonight I was taking the dogs out by myself. Rose had called earlier to say Finn and Lauren had arrived and to ask—again—if I’d like to join them for dinner. Again, I’d said no, probably too forcefully. Didn’t feel entitled to be part of the homecoming celebration .
She’d said she wanted to take her girl out for drinks afterward to catch up, and Finn was meeting old high school friends somewhere. To not sound like a total sad sack asshole, I’d offered to take the dogs for their late-night walk.
Outside the pub, Mateo headed one way toward his place, Jean-Luc and I the other way. Jean-Luc lived over his wine shop for now and said he’d be looking for a house in the neighborhood when he got around to it.
I thought he was going to ask about Lauren again, but instead he said, “What’s up, Rafe?”
He was my age, maybe a little younger, and wary of me until we’d gotten to know each other better. I didn’t share a lot and neither did he—we were guys, we didn’t spill our guts—but I sensed he had trouble in his history too.
When I hesitated, he repeated the question with a different spin, “Are you returning to la belle Rose after your time in Boise?”
Fuck. Not the roastery, but Rose. Was I that obvious?
“I found out I have to leave early—beginning of next week. We haven’t talked beyond that.”
“Time is running out, n’est-ce pas?”
“Yeah. But she hasn’t invited me to stay. And I haven’t offered.” I paused. “Rose deserves better than me.”
Jean-Luc shook his head. “You’re an idiot.”
I grunted. No argument there.
After leaving Jean-Luc at his place, I walked slowly to Rose’s house. The air was crisp, no rain in sight, and a crescent moon was pinned high in the sky. As I moved down the driveway, the dogs were raising a racket—snuffling, barking and scratching at the backyard gate.
“Everybody calm down. It’s just me, guys…no Rose tonight.”
I flipped the latch and crowded through the mob scene to grab their leashes from the back porch. We geared up and headed out, the pups pulling me down the street toward the park. We made our rounds and a pit stop or two before going back to Rose’s house.
I don’t know who was more surprised—Princess or Pirate—when I opened the front door and disarmed the alarm. You could see their doggy minds going a mile a minute. Where’s Mom? Wasn’t the Boy here? Don’t I get a treat now? Why am I still on the leash? This last one from Princess.
It had come to this. I was narrating the dogs’ thoughts.
I handed out treats and made sure Pirate had a full water bowl. I rearmed the system on my way out, dragging Princess all the way. Her royal highness was not amused.
Later, much later, I was lying in bed, arms crossed under my head, staring at the ceiling. When Princess whimpered, I looked down at her on the rug beside the bed. She was lying on her belly, front legs shoved out straight, muzzle resting between her paws. She was staring too—at the cardboard, life-size, stuck-in-time Elvis in the corner.
Great. Now I was going to have “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” stuck on repeat in my mind.