Chapter Eight
Daniel
“What do you think? Pink or gold?” Rosie holds up two identical except-for-color balloons.
“Both.”
“That’s been your answer to everything.”
“My job is to pay for things, remember?”
“Sure, but we don’t need to waste your money!” She gives me an exasperated look that makes me want to kiss her.
“Will Mel love it all?”
“Probably.”
“Then it’s money well spent.” I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from touching her. I want to move her toward the door and hurry this stop along so we can fit in a late lunch at a nice restaurant before everyone else arrives.
It’ll be the last meal I get alone with her until Sunday at the earliest.
Her confession from breakfast rings in my ears like the echo of a gong. Practically a virgin. Wants an adventure.
“All right, let’s get it all.” She sighs happily. “Now we just need to get into her hotel room and decorate before she arrives!”
Back at the casino, we get a room key from the concierge for my daughter’s suite.
She needs my height and reach to affix the top row of balloons to the wall. I relish every second of standing that close to her, working together. When we finish, and I ask her to join me for lunch, the glittering smile I get back is more than reward enough.
We go to a farm-to-table restaurant in the next hotel over, and we’re seated at a community table after Rosie expresses delight at the concept to the hostess.
Any protest I might have over sharing her with a table of strangers ends when we’re seated next to each other. The first thing Rosie does is lean in and whisper how good the menu looks.
I take a long, shuddering inhale of her sweet scent and agree that I’m ravenous.
Which she takes literally. “How hungry are you?”
Jesus, she’s going to be the best kind of death for me.
I slide my arm over the back of her chair.
My fingers graze her far shoulder and her breath hitches.
Her gaze doesn’t waver, though. If anything, the way she’s looking at me deepens, gets warmer.
“Starving,” I admit. “I didn’t realize just how much. ”
“We should fix that.” A slow blink. “Their flatbreads sound amazing.”
Food isn’t what I need. But it’s all that’s on offer. I squeeze her shoulder and turn to the menu.
We take our time and order a few rounds of small plates and two refills of iced tea for Rosie before getting a group text message from Mel.
“They’ve landed,” Rosie says, and I want to imagine that she sounds as bittersweet as I feel.
Which is ridiculous because we should both be relieved the East Coast guests have finally arrived, and the party can begin.
But when she twists around to look for the waiter, and her hand briefly falls to my thigh, all I want is to hit the pause button on our time.
To freeze us in this moment while I figure out how to tell her how much I want to be what she needs. To show her I can be that adventure she craves.
There’s no way to do that without ruining my daughter’s wedding, though, so I swallow it down and accept that I’ve run out of time.
It’s a short walk back to the hotel, and as we walk up, a limo pulls up to the curb. The window rolls down, and my daughter gives us jazz hands. “We made it!”
Selfish time is over.
Rosie pulls away from me and darts ahead, throwing her arms around Mel as she spills out of the vehicle. They squeal and jump up and down.
I extend my right hand to Javier, greet his parents, then join Mel and Rosie.
My daughter launches herself at me, and I squeeze her lovingly.
“Are you all right?” Mel asks quietly into my ear.
It takes me a moment to remember why she would ask. I told her Vegas was more than fine as a wedding location, and I meant it. But the last day with Rosie has replaced all long-ago memories with much sweeter moments. “Yes,” I tell her honestly. “Totally fine.”
She lets out a relieved breath. “Rosie says you took good care of her.”
I swallow hard and catch Rosie’s curious gaze.
“I tried,” I say thickly. “She made it easy.”