Chapter 30
thirty
Cameron
Rosalie and I spend the next several Wednesday nights together, making it our own official date night.
So far, we’ve picked up dinner on our way back to my place after dropping off the girls, rather than heading out in town where we’d be surrounded by people.
I think we both prefer the quiet of my home to the chaos of others around us.
Plus, it allows us to take full advantage of our time together. And we do take full advantage.
But tonight is different. Tonight, we’ve decided to have dinner in town with some of our friends. I’ve invited Beck, Tom, and a few others, and Rosalie’s invited Elodie and Kara. They’ve become close and I’m glad Rosalie has made some good friends in town.
Would I rather keep Rosalie holed up at my house, my face buried between her legs, tasting her sweet pussy while she writhes beneath me making the sexiest fucking sounds I’ve ever heard as I make her come?
Yes, I absolutely fucking would, but Beck’s been relentlessly asking to meet her, and I want Rosalie to have a full life here in Winhaven, not be some small-town Rapunzel I keep locked up in my house.
So, here we are at Bluegrass Brewery and Pub, seated at a large, round high-top table nestled in a back corner with all our friends.
It’s busy for Wednesday night, and everywhere I look tables are full of townspeople, and there’s a continuous sound of clinking glasses coming from the bartender as he works swiftly to serve everyone.
Our little corner is cozy and relatively quiet, with the chatter of other patrons muted by the single wall shielding us from the restaurant’s more open space. Conversation has flowed easily between us—well, most of us—all night, and it’s been nice not to have to yell over everyone else’s chatter.
“So, Rosalie, I heard our boy here stopped to help you change a tire on your way into town. I didn’t know his pretty boy accountant hands knew how to do that,” Tom ribs. He gets a little more personable when you get him out of the office, and tonight he’s full of jokes.
“Oh, you know your boy here,” she says, turning to look at me and putting her hand to the side of my face, a playful twinkle in her eye. “He’s quite talented with those pretty boy accountant hands.”
The table bursts into laughter, and I grin appreciatively at the bold woman beside me. She turns back to Tom, schooling her expression into something more serious when she says, “He did pull over to help me, and I couldn’t be more grateful.”
She drops her hand to the top of my knee.
I place mine over hers, giving it a squeeze as she continues.
“Honestly, I don’t know if I could have made it through my first couple of weeks here without him and these two,” she says, throwing a thumb in the direction of Elodie and Kara, who are seated on her other side.
“He even had his parents cook me meals,” she retorts, her tone teasing.
“Hey!” I say, taking my hand off hers and reaching over to squeeze her knee, making her laugh.
I’m utterly obsessed with the sound, and it takes everything I have not to lean over and swallow it with a kiss.
I refrain because once my lips are on hers, all bets are off, and we’re in a public place, surrounded by friends.
Instead, I lean over and kiss her cheek, letting my lips linger and inhaling the faint floral scent of her hair.
“I was busy doing other things, and believe it or not, there were a few items in there made by these two talented hands.”
I hold up my hands and wiggle my fingers, bringing another round of laughter from everyone at the table.
“No,” she gasps.
“Oh, yes, ma’am. These two very talented hands made some of that very delicious food you’ve been eating.” I emphasize the “very” to be an ass. “You know, I was the first person Elodie and Kara hit up to make you something. They were very convincing, you should feel lucky.”
“Which ones?” she questions. “Then I’ll tell you whether I actually felt lucky.”
“Oh, baby, it has to remain a mystery. You know, just in case it was the only meal you thought tasted like shit. I can’t risk you thinking I’m anything but perfect.”
“It was the salad, wasn’t it?” she deadpans, making me chuckle and pulling her tight into my side before dropping a kiss to the top of her head.
It’s then I notice the rest of the table has gone quiet.
I look up from Rosalie to see what’s going on.
Beck’s across from me and is the first to snag my attention.
He has a subtle smile on his face, and I know he’s pleased to see me happy, but there’s an underlying sadness to it, too.
He’s seen me out on dates with other women, but it never turned serious the way it has with Rosalie.
I know it must be hard for him to see me like this with someone other than Julianne.
I smile back, and he lifts his chin in approval.
His attention shifts to Rosalie. “So, Cam here tells me you have a daughter Addie’s age?”
Rosalie lights up. “I do! Her name is Paige, and it’s a damn good thing Cameron tolerates me because I’m pretty sure our girls are forever glued together at the hip.”
“I figured, since Addie talks more about her friend Paige than anything else every time I call.” He chuckles.
“Yeah, I think Addison knew they were meant to be good friends. That’s why she left the note for Paige on her nightstand. They’ve been practically inseparable ever since.”
I feel Rosalie briefly tense next to me, but it’s enough to make me realize what I just said. I bring Rosalie close to me and turn my head so my mouth is next to her ear.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up. It wasn’t intentional, I just love how our girls connected.”
When I lean back, I graze my lips to her cheek, and she gives a small nod of acknowledgement and a quiet “It’s fine. I promise.”
She really has been doing remarkably well considering the freshness of her loss.
So well, in fact, I sometimes forget the letter, and our beginning is still a raw reminder of her loss.
She hasn’t had any major breakdowns that I’m aware of, but I know she has to be masking so many emotions or holding them in.
It’s the only way she could be functioning this well with the recent loss of such an important person.
Rosalie’s a strong woman, but her heart is tender. I hope she’s taken my advice to call Dr. Hawke or someone else in town to help her wade through her grief. If not, I fear it will catch up to her sooner or later.
Our food comes out quickly, another reason we picked to meet here. The pub has good food and fast service, perfect for this group of friends, a majority of whom get a little hangry if they have to wait too long.
The conversation has moved on easily to more lighthearted topics, which is why it’s shocking to hear Beck’s gruff voice. “Just take the ketchup, Elodie.”
“No, you reached for it first.”
It’s been like this all night, the two of them taking quick jabs at each other over little things. If you didn’t know them like I do, you’d assume their friendship is the kind where one constantly shit talks the other, but I do know them, and this is completely out of character.
“Elodie, it’s just some fucking ketchup. I’m more than capable of waiting my turn.”
“Honestly, Beckett, I didn’t think waiting was your forte.”
“I’m not a damn toddler, Elodie.”
“Could have fooled me,” she snipes.
Their conversation is like watching an aggressive tennis match where the players have given up any pretense of winning the point and are instead smacking the ball as hard as they can, hoping to hit their opponent.
Rosalie glances at me with wide questioning eyes and mouths, What the hell?
“I’ll tell you later,” I say in her ear. But I honestly have no clue what to tell her or what’s going on between them because Beck is never this blatantly rude to a woman.
I kick him under the table, which causes his eyes to shoot up to me.
Ease up, I mouth, eliciting a murderous look from my best friend.
“Okay?” I say quietly, and more to myself, while putting my hands up in a placating gesture.
I glance to my right and see Rosalie and Kara talking to Elodie in hushed tones.
Elodie has started gathering her things, meal still half eaten on her plate, before walking over to give my shoulder a quick, affectionate squeeze.
Face flushed, likely from a combination of anger and embarrassment, she briefly looks up at the rest of the table to say goodbye before ducking her head and moving to the bar to pay, Kara and Rosalie flanking her sides.
The rest of the table awkwardly returns to conversation like the most uncomfortable snark battle didn’t just happen, and one of us didn’t just get up and go because of it.
As soon as they leave the table, I lean forward wanting to grab Beckett by his collar and demand an explanation for what the hell just happened.
Still, we’ve had enough drama for one night, and when I look back toward him, his gaze is tracking the girls, eyes full of remorse, so instead I hiss the question through my teeth so only he can hear.
“What the hell was that about, Beckett?”
He pulls his gaze away from the girls, and his expression shutters.
“She just gets under my skin, Cam, always playing the martyr.” His cheeks ruddy with frustration. “She can’t even take a bottle of ketchup without letting everyone around her know she could give it to someone else first.”
I shake my head because there is so much to unpack from all that just went down, but now isn’t the time or the place to do it.
“I get it, man.” Although I really don’t. “But that shit was completely unnecessary, and you baited her into an argument.”
“Fuck, I know,” Beck says, pulling at the ends of his hair, and it’s obvious he feels bad.
“You really should apologize.”