Chapter 12
twelve
Cameron
Ipull up in front of Rosalie’s place and take in the stack of boxes by the door. That explains the call. Anyone would need help with that mess.
Elodie’s call had been quick since she was pulling up to a job, simply asking if I could give one of her friends a hand, and I’d said yes without thinking too much about it. That’s just how I’m wired. Someone needs help, you help. No big deal.
Still…I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t more than a little curious about Rosalie, and the woman she is, beyond her breathtaking beauty.
Picking up one of the smaller boxes and tucking it under my arm, I raise my fist and knock on the door. A few short seconds later, it swings open, revealing a frazzled-looking Rosalie.
“Hi,” she says, a little breathless.
“Hey,” I respond, trying not to focus on the way her lips are parted as she tries to catch her breath. “Mind if I come in?” I gesture to the box tucked under my arm, a reminder of what I’m here to do.
“Oh, yes,” she squeaks, pulling the door open far enough for me to step inside and put the box down. “Thank you so much again. I’m feeling a little ridiculous you drove all the way over here to help me bring these in. Hopefully it won’t take up too much of your time.”
“It’s not a problem. My daughter Addison is with her grandparents for the weekend so I’m free to help with whatever you need.”
Her eyebrows go up a fraction at the mention of Addison, and I realize this is the first time I’ve mentioned having a daughter. Rosalie doesn’t press, instead sitting down on the corner of her couch to put on her shoes.
“Well, I really appreciate it. Paige is here, but I told her to hang out in her room while we move in the big stuff,” she says, standing from the couch and walking toward the front door.
I follow her. I guess this is her way of acknowledging that my being a single dad isn’t a big deal. I mean, why would it be? She’s not vetting my life; she asked me over here for help. It’s not a date.
We begin grabbing the boxes and setting them inside, working effortlessly as a team while making small talk about our week.
The easy comfort I felt when I first met Rosalie is still there, and we laugh as we fumble one of the larger boxes and she accidentally pushes me into the doorframe in an effort to regain her grasp.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she says through a fit of laughter. The sound hits me square in the chest. She tips her head back as she laughs, her neck long and graceful, her smile wide, eyes shining.
“How is it that every time I’m helping you, I’m the one getting hurt?” I say with a laugh of my own.
“I don’t know,” she wheezes out, clearly finding this hysterical.
We manage to bring the box through the doorway without any additional incident and grab the last two smaller boxes, dropping them inside.
I feel a pang of disappointment as I watch Rosalie take in the number of boxes piled up around the room before bringing her gaze expectantly back to me.
Feeling emboldened by how well our time together has gone, I make an offer hoping to prolong it.
“Do you want some help putting these together?” I say, gesturing to the pile.
She blows out a breath causing her lips to vibrate together and my eyes immediately zero in on her mouth. I’m so focused on their fullness and natural, rosy color as they form her response, I don’t actually hear what she says.
“Cameron?”
The sound of my name snaps me out of my haze. “Huh, yeah?” I say, giving my head a little shake.
Rosalie smirks and I know I’ve been caught. “Are you sure you have time?”
“Yes, absolutely,” I stammer, trying to hide my embarrassment as I retrieve the first box and pull out my pocketknife to open it.
Why can’t I hold it together around this girl?
***
Rosalie and I start unpacking what is supposed to be a bookcase but is currently no less than seventy-five small dowels and screws, and eight large pieces of wood.
As I stand looking at the organized piles of materials, I think that it would have been a hell of a lot easier for me to just make these for her.
Regardless, the current chaos allows me to spend more time with Rosalie, and for that I’m grateful.
She’s a bit quiet as we start assembling the first bookcase, and I catch her stealing glances at me, her gaze dropping to my left hand.
The conversation between us has been easy since I arrived.
But now her brow is furrowed, and I can practically see the wheels turning as she picks through all that’s come to light in the brief time I’ve been here.
I wait to see if she’ll share what she’s thinking.
Catching my eyes, she says, “So, you’re a dad? To a little girl?”
My answer is paired with a light laugh at her directness. “I am. Her name is Addison, and she’s a very sassy seven-year-old.”
Rosalie’s eyes widen and she shakes her head, realizing our girls are the same age.
“Oh, I feel that description in my bones,” she says with a giggle, but then her expression turns grave, and I know she’s coming to a few other conclusions.
I’ve been rather forward with my version of flirting, and my ring finger is bare, having finally been in a place to take off my wedding ring about two years ago, so I’m hoping one of her conclusions isn’t that I’m married, but I’m anxious as she opens her mouth to speak.
“And Addison’s mom?” Her voice is quiet, like she innately knows the answer.
“She passed away five years ago from breast cancer,” I say solemnly, preparing for the reaction I know is coming.
Rosalie drops the Allen wrench she’s been using to cover her gasp.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.”
Her eyes get a little misty, and I’m worried she’s going to cry.
I appreciate her sincere condolences, but I want to pull her away from the sadness and pity I can see swimming in her eyes while also giving my late wife the respect she deserves.
So I reach over and gently pull Rosalie’s hand away from her mouth.
“My late wife, Julianne, was a wonderful woman, and she gave me one of the greatest joys of my life. Addie is a gift, a spunky gift who often gives me a run for my money, but my wife lives on in her, so she’s never really gone. ”
Rosalie blinks several times as if forcing the tears back inside, and I continue.
“It’s taken me a while to get to this place, but I’m really okay,” I say, hoping my sincerity is evident.
Rosalie sniffles before nodding and letting out an uncomfortable laugh. “Well, nothing like a little lighthearted conversation to go with the evening you didn’t know you were spending over here. Just a bit more than you signed up for, huh?”
I chuckle. “I promise it’s all good, Rosalie. But, since we’re on the subject…” I pause, unsure if I should even go there after the heaviness of the last few moments.
“You’re wondering where Paige’s dad is?” Her tone is hushed, and I immediately realize why when I remember Paige is home.
She’s been so quiet while playing in her room I forgot she was even here.
I’m briefly amazed because I know I wouldn’t have had the same outcome had I asked Addison to do the same thing.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“No, no, it’s fine. It’s not a long story, and I’ll continue to whisper, so listen carefully,” she says with a playful wink.
I immediately relax at her carefree tone and do as she says.
“Paige’s dad was a hookup in college. He was visiting from out of state, and when I found out I was pregnant, I had no idea how to find him. It’s been me and Paige since she was born, along with some major help from my parents,” she says with a wistful smile at that last statement.
My respect and admiration for Rosalie deepens at this revelation, and I can’t help but reach over and briefly squeeze her hand. “Well, I’ve spent only a very short amount of time with Paige, but she seems like a fantastic kid.”
“She is but also very sassy. I’m sure she and Addison would be great friends and get into lots of trouble together.”
I like this thought a lot, our two girls becoming friends, spending more time with Rosalie. I’m pulled from my daydream by the little girl herself. Paige comes bounding down the hall, her pigtails wildly askew and a plastic horse in each hand.
“Hi, Mr. Cameron.”
“Hey, Paige. I like your horses.”
“Thank you, they’re my favorite,” she says excitedly before looking at Rosalie. “Hey, Mommy, are we ever going to eat dinner? I’m hungry.”
Rosalie glances at her watch and startles, immediately pushing to stand. “Soon, baby. Just as soon as I tell Mr. Cameron bye, okay?”
Her rushed tone has me looking down at my own watch. It’s seven o’clock, and I’ve been here for over an hour. I stand up, knowing it’s time for me to go, but when I look around the living room, I wince. We didn’t get very far, and the pieces of the bookshelf are still in piles on the floor.
Looking up, I see Rosalie taking in the same thing before she meets my gaze. She shrugs sheepishly. “I see a late night in my future.”
“I can come back over and help tomorrow if you want?” The offer is out of my mouth before I even have time to think it through, but Rosalie is already shaking her head.
“Oh no, you’ve already helped me out so much. Besides, I think I’m going to stop after this one and start painting Paige’s room before I put anything else in it. That way I won’t have to move around any more furniture than I already have to.”
I feel more disappointed than I should, but I stifle any argument, recognizing now isn’t the time to push.
“That’s actually a really good plan. Moving everything away from the walls and prepping to paint is my least favorite part of home renovations.”
‘“I know, I’m dreading it.” She sighs, walking up next to me toward the door.
I open it, stepping outside, but pause and lean against the frame, letting my shoulder rest casually as I look back at her. She’s standing just inside, and suddenly, we’re face to face.
A shredded piece of cardboard sticks to a strand of her hair from moving boxes. I let my fingers brush it away, careful, letting the contact linger just a beat. Her eyes go a little wide, her breath catches subtly, and I can tell she feels it, too, whatever this awareness is, thrumming between us.
“Thanks again for all your help,” she says playfully. “Or should I say…thanks for your help, again.”
I chuckle, a smirk tugging at my lips. “Just doing my chivalrous duty, ma’am.”
She nudges my shoulder lightly, grinning. “Would you knock it off with the ma’am?”
“Never,” I reply, letting the smirk linger, enjoying the quiet charge between us. I watch her for a beat longer, noticing how her eyes follow me, how her body shifts slightly closer.
Finally, I wink, pushing off the frame, and start down the walkway. Glancing over my shoulder, I give a teasing grin. “Oh, and Rosalie? This was a fantastic second date.”
She rolls her eyes, smirking, still watching as I walk away.