Chapter 50
SAM
It takes three days to feel human again after norovirus takes Rosie and me out of commission, and I’m convinced that if we can survive that together, we’ll be able to handle anything else life throws our way.
We spend the fourth day doing a deep clean of every surface in the house before Maggi comes back.
It wasn’t exactly how I imagined spending multiple days of alone time with Rosie again, but having her there made a horrible experience a bit less miserable.
When all was said and done, we agree that we were much bigger babies than Maggi had been.
“That’s a nasty bug,” Ally exclaims after Rosie is done telling her about our ordeal last week. “We all had it two years ago. Took us all out within forty-eight hours of coming into contact. I’ve never experienced anything like it.”
“Well, hopefully we don’t experience it ever again.” Rosie’s jaw tightens as if reliving the nasty experience in real time.
“It seems to move in cycles,” Peter says, leaning back from his breakfast. “That’s what makes it potent. It mutates so quickly and bounces around.” He demonstrates by tapping the table, his mug, and his fork. “I’m surprised it hasn’t taken out half the primary school at this point.”
To my surprise, I like Peter. Even knowing that he possibly still has a thing for Rosie, he’s a good guy and really, who could blame him for being into her?
If I hadn’t been able to make this move happen, I could definitely imagine worse partners.
But then again, my opinion doesn’t matter—she hadn’t felt anything, so that was that. And thank goodness.
“So what adventure do you two have planned for today?” Ally asks while the others at the table discuss various viruses leaving me grateful to have somewhere else to turn my attention. From the sounds of it, Maggi is going to be bringing all sorts of fun things home.
“Nothing too exciting.” Rosie shrugs. “Heading to Tesco and then home.” She squeezes my hand when she says “home,” and even though I haven’t officially moved in, she never specifies that it’s hers and not mine.
Ally sips her coffee coyly, her eyes bouncing between us, and I know she thinks that our lack of plans means that we’re going home to engage in some naked fun.
And she’s probably right, but I have an interview at one with a rugby magazine, and Rosie has been talking about what she wants to do in the new year, so I know she’s going to want to do some research and number crunching.
“What’s the protocol for birthday parties here? Is Maggi expected to give every kid in her class an invitation or…” Rosie asks, changing the subject.
Peter’s attention swings back to our end of the table. “This is when I’m glad the twins were born in the summer. There’s no pressure to invite everyone.”
“You don’t have to, but the first year is tough,” Ally chimes in. “Some parents will be upset if their kid comes home and tells them they didn’t get invited.”
“When’s Maggi’s birthday?” Emily asks.
“January fifteenth,” I say without hesitation, which earns me a look of pure adoration from the stunning redhead beside me.
Maggi told me her birthday at the wedding.
It was one of the many little random tidbits she shared while we were having our pictures taken.
I went away knowing her favourite cheese, colour, animal, mythical creature, birthday, and song.
In the meantime, I hadn’t forgotten a single fact.
Instead, I’d added to the fact bank. And I was still learning something every day.
Two days ago, I experienced my first meltdown, and I’m ashamed to say that I sort of froze. I stood there while Rosie tried to reason with her and then sent her for a timeout. Then I’d been shocked when she was right back to her normal bubbly self immediately after.
“You’ll learn,” Rosie told me that night after Maggi was asleep.
That was always what she said after I experienced something new.
Then she reminds me that she feels like she’s still learning too because Maggi changes.
She’s a pretty amiable kid, but she has her moments, even if they’re few and far between.
I lay awake that night wondering how the hell I’d ever raise my voice at her. All I can picture is yelling and Maggi looking terrified. It was something I’d have to add to the list of things to discuss with my therapist.
“What’s that for?” Rosie asks when I set a bag of groceries on the counter the night before Halloween.
“Tomorrow night’s dinner,” I announce with my head already buried in the fridge, busy moving things around so I can fit my purchases.
“We always order pizza on Halloween,” Rosie says.
I stand, closing the door softly, and face her. “I thought that maybe we could start a new tradition,” I offer, realizing now that I probably should have discussed this beforehand. “Or, I can make this tonight, and we can carry on with pizza.”
It doesn’t happen often, but I can see the moment when Rosie is desperate to hang onto something from the past—specifically something involving Eric, and I’ll never hold that against her.
“No, it’s okay.” She smiles up at me, and I study her.
There are times she fights that kind of response.
Times when she says it’s okay out loud but it’s clearly not.
On those occasions, I have to remind her that I’m fine with adapting.
Happy to fit myself into whatever space she’ll leave for me because I’m just delighted she’s willing to leave me space at all.
I’ve spent years convinced I’m a complicated person.
But when it comes down to it, I’m actually quite simple.
When it comes to Rosie and Maggi anyway.
I know that if something is hugely important, I’ll fight for it, but things like what to have for dinner on Halloween aren’t worth going to battle over.
“What are you making us?” She peers into the bag and then looks wide-eyed up at me. “It’s something folklorey, isn’t it?”
“A feast fit for faeries,” I confirm, pulling out a small rack of pork followed by various vegetables. “I watched a couple videos online. Everything looks pretty ordinary until the whimsical garnishes are added. I figured it would work with our costumes.”
Rosie is going as a baobhan sith, I’m going as a Scottish hunter who has fallen prey to Rosie—an easy role to play—and Maggi is going to be a bogle1.
Rosie asked if she was sure about a hundred times, expecting her to want to be a selkie2 or a unicorn or something beautiful.
But no, Mags was set on being an odd little goblin-looking creature.
Martha and Thomas are coming to hand out candy at the house and they’re apparently dressing up as well, but it’s a secret.
The minute I’ve put the last thing away, her arms wrap around me from behind and her forehead presses between my shoulder blades. “Thank you,” she murmurs.
“For what?” I turn slowly, ensuring her arms stay around me but so I can also wrap mine around her.
“Everything.” She looks up, her Highland sky eyes wet with emotion. “Thank you for choosing something different. For choosing us.”
“Oh, Rosie, it wasn’t a choice any more than my next breath is a choice. I’d break every one of my rules for you.”
“But that was after the wed—” I stop her with my lips, because why talk semantics when I could be kissing her instead?
1 A mischievous or malicious faerie known for scaring, confusing, and playing pranks on humans
2 A shapeshifting faerie that presents as a seal or human. Often seductive and beautiful in human form.