Chapter 22
twenty-two
Cameron
It’s finally Friday evening, and Addie and I are heading over to Rosalie’s place for our thank-you dinner. Although I’ve told her I don’t need anything special as a thank you, I’ll take any excuse to see her.
We’ve been texting back and forth a lot this week, so I already know it’s been busy. She went right back to work on Monday, and from what I can tell, things are still going well.
Our text messages have been pretty lighthearted, which makes me wonder how Rosalie is actually doing.
Being a single, working mom kind of forced her to move forward regardless of how she’s processing the death of her mother.
It’ll make me feel better to lay eyes on her tonight when we’re at her house.
The thought barely finishes forming before we’re turning into her driveway.
Through the front window, I catch sight of her and it hits me all at once that seeing her isn’t enough.
Something tightens in my chest, and my fingers twitch along the steering wheel with the ache to close the distance, to feel her warmth and know she’s really here, and she’s okay.
Behind me in the back seat, Addison bounces up and down with excitement to meet Paige.
“We’re here!” she yells while clapping her hands.
I put the car in park and turn to look at her, gently placing my hands over hers while giving her a smile.
“We’re here, and I’m very excited for you to meet Paige, but I need you to remember Ms. Rosalie and Paige have just lost someone very important to them, and their excitement may not match yours, okay?”
She deflates a little bit. “Okay, Daddy.”
“But that doesn’t mean you can’t be happy we’re here. You just need to show a little chill with your happy. You get me?”
“Yeah, I get you,” she says, her smile returning.
We get out of the car, and Addison runs ahead, ringing the doorbell twice before I’m even up the steps. So much for toning it down.
The door opens, and there’s Rosalie in another pair of cut-off shorts and a tank top, hair in her signature messy bun, and a small smile on her face. It looks genuine but so, so tired.
“Hi,” she breathes out, her shoulders lowering a fraction with the exhale.
I can’t help but notice the dark circles under her eyes, and I know she must not be sleeping. Honestly, it’s hard to fathom how she’s standing upright at the moment.
When I lost Julianne, I basically locked myself in my room for the first few days, buried in the enormity of my grief.
There were many times I wanted to sleep forever because the pain of being awake and alive in a world without her was too great.
Yet, there were other times I fought sleep because that’s when the memories of her last months would haunt me.
I had family and friends to help me through the days immediately after my loss, and when I took time off to grieve, Tom was more than understanding, as were most of my clients.
Rosalie doesn’t have that luxury, if you can even call it that.
She’s relatively new to town and her job, and I’m in awe of the strength it took to come back here so soon.
But I also worry that by simply moving forward, putting one step in front of the other without truly letting herself feel, she’s heading for a breakdown.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from years of counseling, it’s that you can’t keep the grief bottled up inside forever. Eventually, the cork pops off and the emotions explode out of you one way or another.
“Hey,” I say, stepping through the door, holding Addison’s hand, knowing full well if I don’t, she’ll dart to Paige’s room like she owns the place.
Using my free hand, I lightly reach around Rosalie to pull her in for a quick hug.
I take comfort in the fact that she leans into me, returning the gesture by placing her hand on the side of my torso.
The warmth of her delicate hand through the fabric of my shirt makes me want nothing more than to fold her whole body closer to mine.
Instead, I step back and look down at my daughter.
“Addie, this is Ms. Rosalie. Rosalie, this is my daughter Addison, though she goes by Addie.”
“Hi, Addie,” Rosalie says with the practiced enthusiasm of an exhausted parent. “It’s so great to meet you. Thank you so much for the kind note you wrote Paige. Would you like to meet her?”
“Yes, ma’am, I would,” my daughter states.
Rosalie looks up at me with a raised eyebrow and mouths, ma’am?
I just smile and give her an unabashed shrug and a wink. She rolls her eyes and refocuses on Addie.
“She’s been so excited to meet you all week. Come on, let’s go find her.” Rosalie turns to walk toward the back of the house with us trailing behind.
When we reach Paige’s room, Addison walks right in and immediately plops down next to Paige on the floor by all of her horses. Paige looks briefly startled, then sees me and seems to connect the dots.
“Paige, this is Addie, Cameron’s daughter.”
Paige is a bit shyer than I thought she would be based on our initial interactions, but I imagine the loss of her grandma has hit her hard, too. Regardless, she smiles at Addie.
“Want to play horses with me?” she asks quietly.
Not really the best at reading the room and more than a little excited to finally be meeting Paige, Addie lets out an emphatic “Yes!” before holding out her hand for a fist bump Paige thankfully returns.
Rosalie and I watch briefly as the girls settle in, Paige getting more animated by the second, and Addison acting like they’ve been friends forever. Content with the knowledge our two girls are going to be just fine, we turn and head for the kitchen.
Rosalie walks like someone dead on their feet, and I can’t help but feel bad she felt obligated to have us over tonight. I feel even worse for accepting, knowing how hard this week has been on her.
As she turns to grab food out of the refrigerator, I step up behind her, laying my hand on top of hers and my other on the small of her back.
“Hey,” I say softly, “why don’t you go have a seat in the living room and relax for a bit. I can figure out dinner.”
She turns her body toward me, and I’m instantly aware of our proximity.
I can see every fleck of green and gold in her hazel eyes and could easily count the freckles on the bridge of her nose.
It takes concerted effort on my part to focus on what she’s saying rather than how my body is reacting to her nearness.
“Cameron, no. This is supposed to be my night to thank you for all you did with the house while we were gone.”
I pull myself together and respond. “And now it’s turned into a night where you get to relax, and I get to take care of you. What were you planning to make? I know for a fact there are loads of meals here, and I’m positive I can figure out how to heat one of them up.”
She looks simultaneously relieved and sheepish when she says, “One of the meals left in my fridge was a big pan of lasagna. I was going to make that.”
I chuckle. “Well, then, you’re in luck because it’s my mom’s lasagna and I know exactly how to warm it up.”
Her cheeks turn pink with embarrassment and it’s adorable. I’ve seen a few sides of Rosalie since we met, but this shy, blushing version is new to me, and I think I like it.
“Well, this is awkward,” she says while covering her face.
My smile remains as I pull her hands down and turn her toward the living room, giving her shoulders a little extra nudge so she doesn’t try to come back and help me.
“Go,” I say, and it takes everything in me not to give her a little tap on the ass instead.
Turning back to the kitchen, I pull out the premade lasagna, the ingredients to make a salad, and a loaf of French bread to make some garlic toast. As I’m closing the refrigerator door, I notice a bottle of white wine and several beer bottles, but when I turn to offer her some, my question dies on my tongue.
Rosalie is curled up into a ball on the couch fast asleep.
I quietly close the refrigerator door and walk over to her.
She looks so peaceful, a feeling I know deep in my soul isn’t present when she’s awake, so I pull a blanket from the back of the couch and drape it over her, letting her sleep while I finish making dinner.
I make a quick detour to check on the girls before returning to the kitchen. They’re still happily playing together, and the sight makes me smile.
I tap lightly on the doorframe to get their attention. “Hey, girls, Rosalie is taking a nap and I’m finishing up dinner. I’ll come get you when it’s ready, okay?”
They nod, Paige saying, “Okay, Mr. Cameron,” while Addie simultaneously says, “Okay, Daddy.”
As I walk back to the kitchen, I take in the pictures now hanging in the hallway. I have no clue when Rosalie found the extra time to hang them, but I enjoy the quick glimpse of her life and family in each snapshot.
There are photos of Rosalie with Paige at what looks like a barn, Rosalie with two guys I assume are her brothers around a fire pit, and a family photo taken at the top of a mountain.
I scan the picture and note how much Rosalie looks like her mom.
She has a bright smile and kind eyes, and her arms are stretched as wide as possible, squeezing her three children into the photo with her.
Rosalie’s dad appears to have a gentle presence, and I briefly wonder how he’s doing after losing his other half. My heart squeezes with that thought, and I have to turn away.
Lucky for me, the oven isn’t complicated, so I turn it to preheat, wincing at the loud beeping, hoping against all odds it doesn’t wake Rosalie. One glance into the living room tells me she’s still sound asleep on the couch, so I begin preparing the rest of dinner.
By the time I’ve finished making everything else, the oven is done preheating, and I place the lasagna inside on the middle rack. Setting a timer for twenty minutes, I wander into the living room to join Rosalie.
Wanting to be close to her, I sit down on the opposite side of the couch.
I’m careful not to jostle her, but she must sense the slight movement in the couch cushions because she stretches out, burrowing her feet under my leg.
I place my hand on top of her calf and rest it there, closing my eyes and enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment.
That is, until the oven timer goes off, startling us both.