13. Rosenna
Chapter thirteen
Rosenna
“O h, it’s been ages since we’ve seen you two. It’s so nice to catch up. Tell me, Rosie, what’s for dinner? Gavin has been complaining about not eating much, and I can tell he’s starting to lose a bit of weight,” Nancy, his mother, rambled, giving me a hug, her sleek platinum bob perfectly in place just as her skin was flawless thanks to the expensive creams she would wear.
Definitely not from the botox she claims she never had done .
Her piercing, scrutinizing blue eyes and the overwhelming smell of Chanel No. 5 were just the icing on the cake.
I sighed internally as I remained quiet and hugged his father, Patrick, as well. He was the more reasonable one. Still as judgmental as his wife under the surface, but less blunt about it. He had similar features to Gavin, so much so it felt like looking into the future when we talked. However, that often led me down a hole of comparing my own future to Nancy… and I didn’t want to be that miserable.
After pulling away, I turned to Gavin.
“Gav... can I talk to you on the patio for a sec?” I asked with a forced, wavering smile still on my face.
He followed me to the back as I practically ripped the sliding door open.
“What the hell is wrong with you!” I seethed, turning to face him.
He ran his hands down his face. “They showed up at the firm when I was finishing up and wanted to come over to see you and have dinner.”
I crossed my arms so tightly my nails dug into my skin. “A little warning would have been nice, Gavin.”
“I never understand why it is such a big deal.” He lifted his shoulders in defense, his tone bordering on exasperated.
I narrowed my eyes at him in almost disbelief. “It’s a big deal because I’d like to mentally prepare myself for being belittled all night by your mother and looked down upon by your father instead of putting my effort into trying to enjoy my time to myself while I plan for a busy week and try to catch up on bills. Crystal clear now, isn’t it?”
He placed his hands on the sides of my face as he sighed. “Please, Rosenna. I’m sorry for springing this on you right now, but it’s just one evening.”
I shook my head. “Gavin, it’s one evening to you, but it’s my self-worth and esteem that’s on the line here.”
“I know, I know. She can be a bit… difficult, but it’s just one dinner. If I turn them away now, it just makes things worse. Please just get through tonight. For me? ”
I contemplated for a short while, his eyes begged me to go through with the dreadful impending evening. I groaned internally as I looked away from his pleading gaze and went back inside. Going into the kitchen, I pulled out some ingredients to make steak, mashed potatoes, and asparagus.
Not that Gavin particularly liked steak prepared like this, but his mother did, and tonight, his opinion would be based on how she felt. Taking my cardigan off, I set it on the island chair as I discreetly watch Gavin go back over to his parents to laugh and talk as if I didn’t exist… but I didn’t mind it. Anytime I can get away from speaking to his mother, I appreciate it greatly.
An hour or so later, Gavin returned to the kitchen, though only to see if I was finished with dinner, of course. “Because my son wouldn ’ t be caught dead or alive in the kitchen cooking if he had a wife,” was what she said to me a few years back when Gavin had cooked breakfast for the two of us.
“Looks good,” he muttered as I finished plating everything.
“I know.”
He remained silent as I walked over to the dining room to see his parents waiting expectantly.
“It’s seven PM, Rosie… I’d think you’d have enough time to finish dinner a little earlier. You barely do anything all day as it is,” Nancy chastised as I placed the plate in front of her.
I gave a tight-lipped smile. Do not engage. Let it go.
“Well, I wasn’t just doing nothing all day, and sometimes, Gavin comes a bit late from the office, so I don’t want his food to get cold.”
“Oh, nonsense. You just want to make excuses for your laziness. A good wife should have dinner ready on time, regardless of her husband’s schedule. I only have to wonder when was the last time you made him a proper meal. Probably a while considering Myrtle seems to be running the show around here. Poor thing.” Her tone was patronizing as she looked over at Gavin, who brought over the other two plates. “Why don’t you let Rosie take care of that, son? It’s her job, you know.”
He placed the plates where he and I would be sitting, chuckling harmlessly as I placed his father’s plate down. “Just giving her a quick hand, Mother.”
I ignored them all as I walked toward the kitchen to grab the much-needed wine I’d taken out from the cellar, as well as four wine glasses.
Much to Nancy’s dismay, when I returned to the dining room Gavin released me from my server duties, ushering me to sit in the seat beside him before he did us the honor of pouring the wine himself.
As we dug in, Patrick asked, “How’s business, Rosenna?”
I chewed a mouthful of mashed potatoes. “Going pretty well, actually. I’ve got a few new clients and deals going, so that’s a plus.” I ignored Gavin taking a swig of wine, as if to drown out the impending conversation.
“It’s a lot of work, I’m sure. It makes me wonder if you are not too stretched thin, you know? We wouldn’t want your relationship to be under pressure from this.”
Nancy inserted herself into the conversation per usual. “What you really need to do is spend more time in the kitchen and cleaning up around here. The food is just okay, you know. It could be better.”
Like Gavin, I took a rather large gulp of my wine to help me bite back my tongue.
Nancy went on, though: “How is a good wife going to juggle all of these responsibilities and commit to her role in the home? No wonder you aren’t ready to have a child. ”
That was it. I couldn’t do it. Eyes narrowed, wine glass lowered, I said, “I’m sorry… What did you say?”
Nancy sighed dramatically. “It’s a shame, really. Gavin told us all about how you denied having a child for him because you weren’t ready and had to focus on your businesses before you made the commitment to having a baby. I mean, honestly, it’s pretty selfish, you know. You just can’t seem to prioritize the right things, can you? Depriving him of his future children and my future grandchildren. You aren’t getting any younger, either.”
My grip on the wine glass tightened. The stem pressed into my palm as my jaw locked.
Slowly, I set it down, my gaze settling on him.
Gavin was silent. He couldn’t even fucking look at me.
“You told them that?” The words came slow, measured and steady.
Gavin’s throat bobbed, his fingers tightening around the base of his wine glass like he wanted to disappear into it, his eyes wide, staring ahead like a deer in headlights.
There was a heavy silence as his parents waited for an answer… a reaction, like this was all a big game.
I didn’t give them one.
I couldn’t. Not when my first reaction would be to strangle my loving husband.
Beckham
Exiting my bedroom, I paused at the top of the steps. A rustling sound. Someone was at my art station.
Coming downstairs, I found my father occupying himself as he casually flipped through my recent sketches, as if he had every right to be here.
Ignoring him, I instead gathered the misplaced brushes, placing each one back in its designated spot.
His gaze settled on me like a weight.
“Looks like you’ve kept yourself quite busy.” His voice was even.
I didn’t respond.
His attention shifted, locking onto my easel… onto her . My little flower, painted across the chunky knit blanket.
I had yet to finalize the details, but even unfinished, it was one of my most deliberate and intentional works. It wasn’t just her form I captured. It was the tension in her spine, the way her fingers curled as if bracing herself to let go—a woman caught in the moment between resistance and surrender.
The only thing tying it to her was the delicate tattoo etched along her ribs—my favorite part.
My father’s gaze lingered on the painting longer than I liked before it slid to the new setup… the black knit blanket, the deep red rose petals carefully arranged.
I had already planned the layout for our next session.
But I decided to be nice and give her some time to herself.
For now.
He didn’t speak, only observed, rubbing his chin in quiet thought.
I was almost certain he wanted to ask if I had a model I was working with, but he didn’t… almost as if he didn’t want to know. At least not right now.
“Yes... quite busy indeed.” His voice held a note of something unreadable.
I folded my arms, finally turning to him.
“Is there a reason you’ve decided to bother me on this previously perfect afternoon, Father?”
He studied me, his mind calculating. “I wanted to check in and see how much progress has been made for the upcoming exhibit.”
I shrugged lazily. “We’re still working out the fine details and such, but we’ve slowly but surely been working so everything comes together accordingly.”
It was true. Kira, his assistants, and the PR team were ensuring the logistics were flawless.
But me?
I was more focused on understanding her .
Mentally. Physically. Emotionally.
The way her body responded to my touch, the way her lips parted just before she denied me, the way her walls were crumbling more with each passing moment.
“Well, that sounds magnificent.”
I had to keep from rolling my eyes. My father knew everything would work out, especially when he was three steps ahead. He controlled everything according to his twisted agenda. The only thing he couldn’t control, the only person he analyzed like no one else, was standing in front of him.
“Question for you…” I mused, turning to face him. “What are your thoughts on Rosenna’s husband, Gavin?”
He narrowed his eyes at me slightly, something he unintentionally did when trying to understand what I was thinking.
“He seems fine. A bit narcissistic on the surface, but overall an okay sort of guy.”
I hummed. “Hypothetically speaking… do you think their marriage will last?”
Though, I wasn’t looking at him anymore.
I was looking at her , the painting of my flower, stretched across my easel. Exposed, unraveled… Mine .
He studied me for a long moment before responding.
“It has the potential. Every marriage works itself out in the end, when they each make an effort to keep it going.” I glanced over at him for a moment as he gave me a partially knowing look. “But on the other hand… marriage can be fragile. Sometimes all it takes is for the wrong person to get too close... and suddenly, there’s nothing left to salvage.”