Chapter 17 – Rosie #2
The sharp pains in my gut are growing worse and I tuck my legs in tighter, bringing them closer to my chest. It’s too much fidgeting for Charlie and she gets annoyed and moves to the other couch, leaving Beck and I alone on this one.
I pinch my eyes tight, realizing I’m not going to make it to the end of the movie.
It’s only about halfway through and I can’t get comfortable.
The throbbing is too much. I won’t be able to sleep when I’m in this much pain.
But it is almost time for Charlie to go to bed.
Maybe the movement and change in scenery will help.
“Okay, Charlie. Bedtime.”
“Nooo, just a little longer. The movie isn’t over yet.”
“Sorry, kiddo, Mama is in pain, and I need to try to get some sleep too.”
“Fine,” she huffs.
“Want me to put her to bed?” Beck asks, shooting up to his feet.
I smile at him through the agony. “We can do it together?”
He nods and we head upstairs.
I tell Charlie she can skip her bath tonight and maybe we’ll go to the beach tomorrow. Even though I have no idea how I’m going to feel and if we’ll make it there at all. It’s enough for her to brush her teeth, put on her pajamas, and hop into bed faster than usual.
She picks out a book and gives it to Beck. “Will you read to me tonight?”
“I’d love to.” Beck’s cheeks blush.
“Mama can help with the voices. She has this one memorized.”
Beck glances at me and I raise my brows with a head tilt. Like, what can I say, I’m that good.
Sitting on the end of her bed, I listen while Beck reads and the sound is soothing in a way no medicine is.
It’s as if part of my brain is linked to the memory of how it once comforted me through my pain.
Charlie stops him part of the way through and corrects him, telling him that’s not how the voice of a frog would sound and that he needs to start over.
I giggle behind my hand while Beck gives me a pitiful help me look.
Is this what it would be like or feel like—the three of us, a real family. Because in this moment, Charlie tucked in and looking peaceful, her daddy and I reading her a bedtime story together…it’s perfect.
After I kiss Charlie good night, I go straight to my room and into the bathroom.
The pain is intense, coming in waves, and it’s unbearable.
I start the bath water, making it as hot as possible.
While the tub fills, I drop onto the floor and let the tears that have been threatening to break free finally release.
A few moments later, there’s a knock on the door. “You okay?” Beck calls from the other side.
There’s no point in lying. “No. But I will be.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
Swallowing, I pinch my eyes tight and go against what my heart wants. “You’ve been great. But you can go now. Thank you.”
I pull my knees into my chest and cry harder.
Again, there’s a knock. “Hey, I’m coming in, so you better be decent.”
The door swings open and Beck finds me in a tight ball on the floor, leaning against the tub.
His sharp inhale of breath is noticeable as his chest expands. “It’s a bad one, huh?”
I nod through the tears still streaming down my cheeks.
He moves to the tub and waves his hand under the water, flinching and then turning the temperature down. “You trying to burn yourself?”
“I need it hot,” I whine in between the sobs.
He crouches in front of me, cupping the back of my neck and searching my face. “Yeah, hot. You’re not trying to boil yourself, are you?”
I hunch my shoulders, having reached the stage of desperation. “Whatever takes this pain away.”
He shakes his head like he’s irritated with me. He takes my hands in his and pulls me up. “Need help getting undressed?” Our eyes click; his are dark and possessive and heat blooms in my cheeks. “You know what I mean.”
I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips as I nod. “Close your eyes,” I instruct, wiping the tears off my face.
His head rolls back as he groans. “You serious? I think I’m capable of helping you without looking.”
“You sure about that?” I challenge, then bite my lip in regret as fire burns in his eyes as his gaze sweeps over me.
“What? It’s not like it’s something I’ve never seen. I hate to break it to you, but I’ve seen all your bits.”
A shiver races down my back at the reminder. Crossing my arms, I rub my palms over them. “But not in a long time. And not since I was pregnant. Or had the surgery. My body…my bits…have changed. And I have scars.”
He bends his six-foot frame to try to encourage me to look at him.
But I can’t. Not when it’s me and him and we’re having this conversation in this intimate space.
I draw in a breath as the steam billows around us.
“We all have scars, Rosie. Some just aren’t visible.
And scars don’t make someone less beautiful.
If anything, it does the opposite. Because it means you’ve lived. You’re still living.”
“Yeah, tell that to my brain,” I mutter, and flip my wrist. “Now, if you want to stay in here and help, then close your eyes.”
“Fine,” he huffs, pinching his eyes tight with exaggeration. “But I hate to point out the obvious once again—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’ve seen me naked before,” I grumble, interrupting him and taking his hands in mine.
“No. I mean yes. But I was gonna say, you’re my wife.”
“Oh.” My stomach flutters at his words. And now I’m fumbling with his hands as I guide them to the hem of my sweatshirt with his eyes closed. “Okay, here. Now lift slowly,” I whisper.
He listens to my command, grasping the hem of my sweatshirt on both sides and gliding it up my body with care. “This guy—your fiancé—he’s never…he’s never made you feel like your scars…are…I don’t know, a big deal, right?”
“What? No.” My brows shoot up and his eyes flutter open. “Beck!” I warn with a shriek.
“Shit. Sorry, sorry,” he mutters and pinches his eyes closed again. “And good. That’s good. I just…I wanted to make sure.” He drags my sweatshirt the rest of the way up my torso. His fingers brush against my bare skin and a shiver wriggles through me.
“West…West isn’t like that.” My words are unintentionally laced with doubt, because he has made me feeling self-conscious about them.
“That’s good.” He tugs the sweatshirt over my head slowly.
I hold my breath until I have eyes on him once again and can ensure he’s not peeking. “Can you just help with the clasp on my bra? Then I should be good.”
He pulls his lower lip in between his teeth and bites on it, giving a slight nod with his chin.
I steal a second to admire his face while he can’t see me. His dimpled chin covered by a three-day beard is something I’ve missed. As my gaze travels up to the mustache taking shape above his lip, I rub my thighs together.
“Ready?”
I spin around, facing my back to him. “Yep,” I croak. And now my eyes are closed as I await his hands on me.
Warm fingers trace my skin before they work at the clasp of my bra. “Because if he’s ever made you feel less-than because of your illness or your body—”
“Beck,” I interrupt, catching his darkened eyes in the reflection of the mirror. He holds my gaze captive for a moment, a look of defiance staring back at me. My bra comes undone and my breasts release when it falls to the floor.
He shuts his eyes and takes a step away from me. “Sorry,” he mumbles.
I slide my pants and my underwear down my legs at the same time.
The quicker I get my clothes off the quicker I can get in the tub without him seeing me naked.
I step over the ledge and into the steaming tub.
It’s almost too hot to get all the way under, but I don’t have time to allow my body to get accustomed to the temp first. I lower myself beneath the bubbles, ensuring they’re covering my chest fully.
“Okay, I’m in,” I announce.
He turns slowly and when his gaze travels across the bubbles, lingering over my chest and my neck before finally landing on my face, I can’t resist locking eyes with him again.
Heat flares in his pupils and his jaw clicks.
It’s like a lit match between us, the fire burning brighter than it ever has before.
We’ve spent seven years apart, and yet, in this moment, time and distance disappear and we’re Beck and Rosie again. It makes zero sense.
His tongue darts out and he licks his lips, and I track every one of his movements. Including his palms as he wipes them down the fronts of his pants.
I tear my gaze away first. Shit, one of us has to before we say something we’ll both regret. Or worse—do something we’ll both regret.
He shouldn’t even be in here with me while I’m in the tub.
What would West think? Would I think it was appropriate for West to be in this situation if our roles were reversed?
Absolutely not. But Beck isn’t a random guy.
He’s the guy. And maybe that’s more of a reason for him to not be here right now.
He clears his throat. “Um, do you need anything else?”
“No, I’m okay, thanks. You don’t have to wait with me.”
“Uhh…” He drags out the word, his tone uneasy, glancing over his shoulder at the closed bathroom door. “Do you want me to go?”
No is what I want to scream. I don’t want him to go. He used to be my favorite person to be with when I was in pain. No one else brought me comfort like he did.
“I mean, if you need to go.” I give a little shrug with one shoulder, afraid to move too much and show off parts of me I shouldn’t.
“Rosie.” He breathes out my name and goosebumps skim across my skin. “Do you want me to go?”
Biting my lower lip, desire aches low in my belly, but it’s mixed with the constant throbbing, and I shake my head.
And that’s all it takes.
Beck lowers himself onto the bathmat and sits next to the tub so we’re facing one another. He smiles and gives me a wink, as if to say, don’t worry, I got you.
Just like he always has.
It’s almost enough to distract me from the pain that’s like a barbed wire coiled around my legs and stomach. Almost. I smile and exhale as I close my eyes and lean my head against the cool tiled wall.