Chapter 19 – She Invited Herself
Liam
I didn’t mean for Rosalie to spot me lurking in the doorway, but my surprise in seeing her here turned into blatant curiosity.
I hope she doesn’t think I’m judging. I’d uncross my arms, but then I wouldn’t know what to do with them.
The truth is, I’m glad she doesn’t hate her blind date, even if I hate him a little bit.
Rosalie is not that much younger than me, but at moments like this, I feel so old.
I’m a dad waiting on my son to finish class.
The guy she’s with looks barely old enough to drink.
Or maybe it’s the way he’s dressed with his popped collar, skinny jeans, and a pair of Chucks that are more stroll the mall than play ball.
There is so much to take in here. Are they wearing matching aprons? No one else is wearing matching aprons.
Rosalie takes a step toward me, but at that moment her date runs back to her with a “Yeehaw” and lifts her off her feet.
“Oof. Trey, put me down, dude.”
“Okay, partner.” He sets her down and follows her gaze over to the doorway. “Do you know that guy?”
“I do. He’s my boss.”
“Whoa. Are you in trouble?”
“I don’t think so. I’ll be right back.” She gives him a reassuring smile and walks over to me, resting her head against the back wall of the classroom and sighing.
I can smell the peach blossom from her shampoo.
It’s a scent I discovered when I caught her on the stairs.
Her hair looks really pretty. She’s wearing it down in loose waves that frame her face.
“How was your day?” she asks.
“Good. Busy. Wyatt will be done with karate at eight. We’ll probably go get ice cream. What about you and that guy? What are your plans after this? Do you, uh, need a ride home?”
“We drove separately.”
Our eyes meet, and she wordlessly acknowledges that my concern is warranted but she has it handled.
I’m not about to ask her if she wants to join us for ice cream, but the longer she looks at me, the more I want to.
No. She’s off the clock. This is her weekend night to do whatever she wants. I need to tell her goodbye and let her get back to her date. He might be a little bit buzzed, but I recognize that cleft forming between his eyebrows as he watches us. He has competition. Or at least, it appears that way.
“Where’s Callie?” Rosalie asks.
“At Esther’s.”
“Oh, that’s good. Is she spending the night, or are you going to pick her up?”
“She’s spending the night.”
“I hope she has fun. I’ll ask her about it Monday.”
“Thanks.”
Callie tells me a lot, but Rosalie is her confidant.
Maybe that should bother me, but Rosalie isn’t looking to gatekeep or judge or put her own spin on things.
She’ll read Callie’s mood as the little girl talks about nothing and everything and know more than I ever could from it. And then she’ll share it all with me.
That same sense of despair from the day of Wyatt’s birthday party hits me as I think about losing her.
We can’t lose Rosalie. I may talk a big game, but she is irreplaceable, and that’s a burden I won’t share with her.
I also need to stop doing things like checking her out or teasing her or trying to find ways to spend time with her outside of her job.
She can’t feel uncomfortable if I don’t give her a reason to.
I straighten from the wall. “So, I’ll see you Monday?”
“Yeah, of course.” She glances behind her and then leans in and whispers, “Could I get an invite to this ice cream thing? If I show up at home in a few minutes, Kambryn will think the date went badly.”
“Did it?” I whisper back.
She opens her mouth to respond and turns it into a mischievous smile.
“Buy me ice cream and you’ll find out. Send me an address when you decide where you’re going.
” With that, she turns and returns to her workspace, picking up an abandoned plate of spaghetti and tossing it into the trash can next to them.
I give her date one last careful once-over, frowning at the way he leans over and wraps her in a side hug so effortlessly. Rosalie doesn’t seem to hate it. Maybe she doesn’t get enough hugs in her life from people over the age of eight.
Not my problem.
I quickly retreat back to the other side of the rec center and watch the last five minutes of practice through the classroom window like the rest of the bored parents. Only, I’m not bored. My mind is going a million miles an hour.
I didn’t need to invite her. Rosalie invited herself.
It’s a friend move, which means I have to follow through and send her the address of wherever we end up going for ice cream. To do otherwise would be rude.