Round Forty-Two
ROSE
Ollie is quiet throughout the drive home. Quiet as we pull into the driveway and his eyes scour the front of the house. Quiet as he slides out of his door, and instead of closing it and coming around to mine like he usually does, he takes my hand and tugs me across the cab.
For every silent moment that passes, my nerves grow.
He leads me across the lawn and up the steps, onto the porch, then through the front door and into a house chilled from being empty all day.
The instant I cross the threshold, he closes and locks the door again, then he moves through the living room and pulls me along in his wake so he can, one-handed, relight the fire.
Because even in spring, some days in Plainview come with an icy chill in the air.
It’s been a while since I’ve felt fear when there was nothing blatantly fearful in front of me. But I feel it tonight as Ollie’s head swivels around the room. His refusal to leave me alone. Worse, when he uncharacteristically closes the blinds.
“I’m going to explode if you don’t say something soon.” I whip my hand from his, surprising his blue-eyed gaze back to mine, then I set Poppy on the couch and go to work peeling my blazer off. “You were fine, and then you weren’t. You took a phone call, and now everything feels different.”
“Everything’s fine.” He snags my hand again and leads me into the kitchen. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Yeah? Well, my unstable trauma brain means I’m apt to assume the person who called was your former the one.
She’s the one who got away, and now she’s back to be with you forever.
But you’re too much of a gentleman to tell me you’re tired of me, so you’ll be this.
” I stop in the middle of the kitchen and pull my hand from his, gesturing up and down.
“This robot. You’ll still let me stay here, and you’ll still feed me and love me.
But it’s out of obligation now, and not because you think I’m the one. ”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Like I said! Trauma brain, emotional instability, unhealthy attachment behaviors, yada yada yada. So even if I know I sound ridiculous and whiny and dumb, my trauma brain throws rationality out the window and taunts me with this other bullshit. You’re quiet and stressed and refuse to talk, which obviously means something is wrong.
And since you won’t tell me what’s wrong, it makes perfect sense that I would jump the shark and all the other available conclusions and land on this.
Is her name Giselle? Is she a supermodel and amazing and all the things I’m not?
Because I won’t lie, I’ve already decided what she looks like in my brain, and it’s hurting my feelings. ”
So sweet, so fucking perfect, his eyes soften and his lips quiver.
Then he wanders back my way and wraps his hand around the back of my neck, tugging me in and slamming me against his broad, strong chest. “I’ve never even met, let alone dated, anyone named Giselle.
I couldn’t possibly be attracted to anyone else, not even a supermodel, because I believe with my whole fucking heart and soul that you’re the most beautiful woman on the planet.
And since we both need to hear it right now,” he pulls back and looks down into my eyes, “you’re my the one, Rose.
You’re who I would share a door with in the middle of the North Atlantic Ocean, and though I’d like to say I would float in the water and let you have the door all to yourself, there’s no fucking chance I actually would.
Because that Rose was left all alone in the world.
Made to save herself. And I have no intention of leaving you.
” He draws me to the tips of my toes and lays a sweet, closed-mouth kiss on my lips.
“I’m stressed, but it’s not because Giselle came back into my life.
And I’m worried about telling you what I’m stressed about, because I don’t want to upset you. ”
“But there’s something?” My eyes itch and burn, my vision turning glassy. “Something happened, and telling me will scare me?”
“I don’t know. I hope it doesn’t.” He settles another kiss on my lips, slow and lingering.
Achingly perfect, and softly sweet. Then he pulls away, but he leads me toward the counter, placing me on my stool and finally, releasing me and taking up his position on the other side.
He flicks the oven on, preheating it for whatever he’s planning for dinner, then he rolls his sleeves up and pumps soap into his hands.
“Cliff called me just before at the hospital. That call you saw me take.”
“Cliff? Is he firing me? Did I do something wrong? Is he letting me go because I didn’t agree to the gym tonight or someth—”
“Jesus.” He slaps the tap off and dries his hands on a cloth. “No, Rose. He’s not firing you. He’s not mad at you. You did nothing wrong.”
“So then…” I frown. “What?”
He leans onto the counter, resting on his elbows, and chews on the inside of his lips. His blue-eyed stare is enough to make me want to weep. To scream and cry and punch a pillow, if only it could help me work through the anxiety filling my belly.
“What?” I groan. “Please tell me.”
“There was a guy at the office this afternoon just as you were leaving. Cliff said you were looking at him, and he was looking at you.”
“Are you mad I was looking? Like… looking? It wasn’t an attraction thing, and I wasn’t checking him out. It was—”
He reaches across the counter and lays his hand over mine.
“No one is saying you did anything wrong. You need to stop assuming you’re a fuck up, babe.
Cliff was getting weird vibes from the guy, and he thought maybe you felt weird about him, too.
Like maybe you recognized him somewhere in the back of your memories, the ones you can’t quite access yet, and after you left, Cliff said the guy was asking about you. ”
“He…” Swallowing, I drag my hand out from beneath his and straighten my back. “Oh. Okay.”
“Cliff doesn’t look for trouble, he’s not a gossip, and he isn’t the type to read into things that aren’t there. So if he feels like something was weird, then it was probably weird. But at the same time, he doesn’t wanna upset you. So he called to run it by me.”
I glance left at the soft scuffling, whining meow of a baby kitten wanting her human.
Poppy stands on her hind legs beside my stool, her front legs stretched high, so I lean over and scoop her up.
“I mean… I guess I looked for a while. It’s possible he could be familiar.
But I look at all the people who come in, just in case.
Did Cliff tell you that, at least once a week, someone comes into the showroom and tells me they saw me on the news? ”
He presses his lips closed, nodding.
“And that people still think calling in tips will get them a cash reward, even though we have never, ever said there was a reward for information?”
Still, he nods.
“I don’t know who started that rumor or why it persists, but it’s always the same kinds of guys who come in and try to get friendly with me.
They’re thinking about this non-existent cash instead of me.
Because obviously I have feelings of my own, and knowing, or not knowing, where I came from is something that will mess with my emotions.
It’s just a game to them, and in their minds, I’m not even a human being.
I’m just a thing they can try to exploit.
” I draw a heady, shuddering breath. “What kinds of weird things was the guy asking Cliff?”
“Just the same questions most folks ask.”
“If I’m the woman from the news,” I sigh. “And if I grew up in… whatever town they grew up in. So they can claim they know me. Which is laughable, since I don’t know where I grew up.”
“Simple minds tend to think simple things, and then we’re forced to live in the same world as them.
” He straightens and comes around the counter, tucking my hair back and stroking my jaw with his thumb.
“Nothing has happened, the guy didn’t do anything wrong, and you’re safe, right here with me.
” He lays a feather-soft kiss on my lips.
“If the guy is here to ask questions and claim money that isn’t there, then he’ll go to Billy.
Billy will screen him, and we’ll know everything we need to know about him before we even set foot inside the police station.
If he’s here to cause trouble, then I’ll wring his fuckin’ neck and put him in the ER, then I’ll accidentally amputate his head or something.
” His lips wrinkle into a small smile. “I decided I wanna keep you forever, Rosaline. Even if Giselle sashays her supermodel ass back into town.”
I choke on a weak, ridiculously raspy laugh. “I’m handy with a hammer, remember? I might ugly up her face so you don’t wanna be with her anymore.”
“So we agree then?” He kisses the top of my head.
“I’ll hurt any guy who wants your attention.
You’ll hurt any woman who wants mine. Toxic possessiveness to match our toxic attachment and trauma behaviors.
” He drags the tips of his fingers across my jaw, then he turns to the fridge and yanks it open, taking out the ingredients for dinner.
Loading up his arms with brightly colored vegetables and a plate with defrosted chicken breast in a bag, he peeks over his shoulder and smirks. “Say it, Rose. You know you wanna.”
I drop forward and set my elbows on the counter, my chin in my hands. Pouting, I look anywhere but into his smug eyes. “I love you.”
Laughing, he hip-bumps the fridge closed. “You seem thrilled about it, too. And keep Poopy McStinkypants off the counter. She knows what chicken smells like now. She’s shameless.”
I peek down and find her back feet on my thighs, her front paws on the edge of the counter. She’s cute and fluffy and wildly uncoordinated, but she’s also a predator in the wild, and she wants her prey. “Cheeky girl.” I scoop her back and scratch her neck. “No chicken for you, Poppy.”
“Poopy.”
“Poppy!”