Chapter 72 Anson
SEVENTY-TWO
ANSON
Rosalie seemed to be in a good mood the last few days. I caught her humming in the kitchen while she cooked dinner.
I sat at the island, watching her, smiling as she swayed her hips and hummed some song I didn’t recognize.
“What’s the song called?” I asked.
She looked at me from over her shoulder. “Um, it’s just a silly song.”
“Tell me,” I insisted, grateful she was even thinking about music since I hadn’t seen her do anything with it in forever.
Her cheeks darkened as she turned around and slid a plate of alfredo in front of me.
Hell, that smells amazing.
She bit her bottom lip nervously. “Um, the song is called Daddy’s Got Issues.”
I raised my brows at her. “Really? I’d like to hear it. Sing it for me.”
She shook her head quickly, her curls bouncing.
“No. Um, it’s just for fun.” Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up. A smile spread across her lips before she quickly typed a reply.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. She’d been so happy since getting her job. I couldn’t shake the thought that maybe she’d met someone and was starting a relationship. I knew the guys didn’t have her number. Ryder, Trent, me, Jamie, and her parents. That was it.
I stuffed a forkful of food into my mouth and moaned softly. Damn, she could cook.
“Good?” She looked at me eagerly.
I nodded. “I could make love to this, it’s so good.”
That made her smile. “Seems messy.”
“My brand of love always is,” I said, winking at her.
Her cheeks darkened again.
She hadn’t been talking about apartments so much the last week. I assumed maybe she’d decided not to and to stay here with me. I really hoped that was the case.
“Tell you what. Let’s eat this delicious meal and then work on your song,” I suggested.
She froze for a moment before shaking her head. “No. I-I don’t want to.”
“Why not? Grab your guitar—”
“I gave it away,” she mumbled.
I wasn’t sure I heard her. “What?”
She cleared her throat. “I gave it away. Donated it to the music center. Figured one of the kids there needed it more than I did.”
“Rosalie,” I whispered, my heart falling. “No. Why?”
She shrugged. “I don’t think I’m ready to do it. My head and heart are still hurting. I-I’m confused.” She sat next to me and pushed her food around on her plate. “It feels weird to write my songs alone.”
“You’re not alone. We can do it together,” I urged softly. “Me and you. Like always.”
“It’s not like always,” she said.
“It is,” I insisted. “Don’t you want to?”
She licked her lips and nodded. “I-I do…”
“Then we will. Let’s eat. Dance. Make up stupid, funny lyrics, and just relax. You and me. How does that sound? No pressure. If it sucks, then it sucks, and we can laugh about it someday.”
She contemplated my words as I held my breath. Finally, she nodded, and I silently thanked god.
We dug into our food. I was happy she’d eaten the entire thing. It meant she was getting better.
When we finished, she excused herself and went into the bedroom, where I was still letting her sleep.
I took off my hoodie because I was hot, but I left my t-shirt on with my sweatpants. Ryder called earlier to ask if we wanted to go out, and I said no the moment I saw Rosalie in the kitchen, making dinner and acting more like her old self.
Call me selfish, but I wanted to keep her like this to myself.
Guilt ate at me over the feelings. While I was technically engaged to Bianca, I didn’t love her, and she didn’t love me.
We were good friends, and I knew she’d fuck Dom and kings the moment I left her alone with them, but it didn’t matter.
My morals were where they were with it. I committed to seeing it through.
Rosalie came out, looking so pretty in her little pink tank top and matching pajama shorts.
“Come on.” I patted the cushion next to me on the couch. I’d grabbed my guitar from the corner and had it on my lap. “Let’s write something that’ll take the world by storm.”
She sat and smiled.
“What do you want to write about?”
“Um.” She chewed her bottom lip for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe something fun and upbeat. I-I want goofy.” Cotton jumped onto her lap and purred. She smiled down at him, petting his head.
“How about… falling in love, but all the things go wrong? We can make it sound like fate has a sense of humor. Traffic jams. Wrong numbers. That sort of thing.”
She nodded eagerly, and that was it. We set to work.
It felt like home. Finally.
Rosalie tipped her drink back, laughing loudly as I fumbled on the keyboard in the living room.
I was barely able to see straight as I tried to hammer a tune out on it.
We’d been at it for hours, making up ridiculous lyrics. We’d probably written five songs, none of them making sense. She’d say a line, I’d say one, she’d say one, I’d laugh.
It was messy and perfect.
“More.” She pushed my glass to my lips. I drank it, the keys plunking out of tune as I snorted.
“Ass over the moon, baby, you drive me to the stars,” she crooned, slurring her words.
I grinned.
“But if I could name the stars, they’d say all yours in gold.”
She giggled and rested her head against my shoulder.
“Mm, I like making music with you, Ani,” she slurred out. “I missed this.”
“We’ve never written music like this before,” I pointed out, smiling as she snuggled closer.
“Maybe it’s what was missing this whole time.”
“Alcohol and a kazoo?” I asked, holding up the kazoo she’d been blowing on.
She chuckled and lifted her head from my shoulders.
I looked over at her, seeing how beautifully cracked she truly was.
“How are you, LeeLee?” I murmured, way too drunk for this conversation, but desperate to have it.
“Good.” She smiled. “I’m happy.” She leaned into me. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“You know you can,” I said softly, inhaling how good she smelled. Fuck, I was drunk on her. It was always her.
“I regret not kissing you that night in the club. When you told me to,” she whispered.
My heart caught in my chest.
“Why?” I ventured as my pulse picked up.
“Because I wanted to know what it was like. I still do.”
Fuck. Fuck. Yes. Fucking yes.
“Find out, LeeLee,” I dared softly, my heartbeat a roar in my ears. “I’m right here.”
“Tell me,” she whispered, leaning in closer. “Again. Will you tell me?”
I swallowed and darted my eyes to her soft, parted lips.
“Kiss me first,” I murmured, all my damn morals flying out the window. “If you want me, kiss me.”
I really didn’t think she would. I thought she’d pull away with pink cheeks and apologize.
But no.
Her lips met mine in a soft brush, making me yearn so hard that I nearly wept.
She pulled away and stared at me, her big green eyes so fucking innocent.
“Come here,” I commanded roughly. “Show me again.”
She shifted forward, and this time I met her halfway, crushing my lips to hers in a scorching kiss.
I’d died and gone to heaven. I was kissing the love of my fucking life.
And it was everything I’d dreamed it would be and more.
Sure, we were wasted, but I took my victories where I could get them.
I tangled my fingers in her curls, dragging her closer to me, our tongues twisting with one another’s.
She cradled my face. Raked her fingers through my hair. Moaned softly against my lips as I lifted her into my arms. Her legs wrapped around my waist, and I took her straight to the couch, our lips fused to one another’s.
I let her touch me. Fuck, she could do whatever she wanted to me.
I shifted so she could tug my shirt off. It landed somewhere on the floor.
With shaking hands, I pulled her top off, revealing that black bra which had been teasing me all night—full, perfect, creamy mounds nestled in the soft cups.
She ground against my hard, aching cock.
I had to touch her. Feel her. Be in her in any capacity I could.
I wasn’t sure if she’d let me, but fuck it. We were here. I pushed her little shorts off, and she didn’t stop me.
Green light.
Matching bra and panties. Fucking black lace.
God, I’d died and gone to heaven.
My phone buzzed on the end table. I ignored it as we ravaged one another with open-mouth kisses and desperate touches.
The buzzing stopped only to start again.
Fucking hell! Did the universe hate me or something?
I should have turned the damn thing off. I swear, if it were Trent or Ryder, I’d kill their asses.
The buzzing stopped once more before starting again.
“Fuck,” I choked out against her lips, my hands tight on her tiny waist. “I-I have to get that.”
Whoever it was better be fucking dying.
I answered breathlessly.
“Alessandro. Your father needs you,” Alessio’s voice met my ears. “Now.”
I closed my eyes. Fucking damnit.
“What’s wrong?” I demanded.
Rosalie moved in and peppered kisses along my jaw. Fuck, I was going to lose my mind.
She nipped and sucked at my flesh, making me swallow down a groan.
She slid off my lap and went to her knees in front of me and reached for my waistband.
Oh my god.
I almost hung up the damn phone.
“It’s Bianca. Please come.”
FUCK.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” I said.
I disconnected the call.
“I-I have to go. I’m sorry.” I stumbled up around her, my heart racing.
I was so fucking wasted. I fell against the chair, groaning as someone pounded on my door.
Quickly, I went to Rosalie and helped her to her feet.
“I’m so sorry. Go to my room.” I stuffed her clothes into her hands. “Fuck.”
She looked dazed, confused, and honestly a little hurt.
She didn’t argue, though. She made her way to my room, closing the door softly behind her.
I heard my key in the door before it swung open. Trent stomped in, looking confused.
“Dad’s blowing up my damn phone, man. What the fuck are you doing—”
He took a look around, taking in the empty alcohol bottles and my shirt off.
“Fuck. Sorry,” he said, wincing. “Bad timing, huh?”
“The worst.” I tugged my t-shirt back on before pulling on my hoodie.
“You, uh, have lipstick, like, everywhere,” he said before pointing to my neck. “And a hickey.”
“Damnit.” I rushed to the bathroom and washed Rosalie’s lipstick from my face, noting I did, indeed, have a hickey from her lips on my neck.
If I weren’t such a piece of shit fuck-up, I’d have reveled in that little trophy, but I was sobering fast.
And I wasn’t feeling good.
I’d cheated on my fiancée.
While I knew all the things about Bianca weren’t real, the commitment I made was.
I rushed back, not having the time to wallow in my guilt, before following Trent out. I locked the door behind me and went downstairs. I tossed him my keys.
“You drive. I’m too drunk.” I winced. I hadn’t said goodbye to Rosalie.
He grunted and got behind the wheel as I climbed into the passenger seat. But not before I threw up on the sidewalk.
“You’re so fucked up,” Trent muttered, revving the engine as I wiped and rinsed my mouth with bottled water in my car.
“I am a fuck-up,” I said as we pulled onto the street. “Fuck. Fuck!” I punched my dashboard.
“Don’t regret it. You’ve wanted her forever—”
“I’m engaged, Trent! I’m getting married. Fuck!”
“Anson, we’ve talked about this. Bianca doesn’t love you. She’s with the kings—”
“It’s not that! I-I don’t want to be the guy who does this shit. It doesn’t matter if it’s real to her. It’s real to me. It matters to me. I fucked up. And now Rosalie…” I shook my head, the nausea churning.
“Don’t you dare tell her that you can’t do this with her.”
I said nothing as I stared out at the passing scenery.
I’d really fucked up.
Trent knew me well, that was for sure, because I was pretty sure I needed to come clean and tell Rosalie the timing was off.
Again.
Fuck.