Chapter 21 – Clearing the Air
Liam
I’m not sure which part of me is being more impulsive right now, my mouth or my hand. The normal restraint I wrap myself in like a protective layer has been completely shut down by the feel of Rosie next to me. Rosalie, I correct myself.
The best course of action is to finish my ice cream as quickly as possible so I can go home and regroup.
It helps that Wyatt gulps down his and is soon a sticky mess.
The remnants are dripping all over the table.
Rosalie’s occupied with cleaning him up as best she can.
I leave the booth to wet a few napkins with water from the soda fountain so I can help her.
Our goodbyes are as awkward as I imagined they would be after I put my hand on her leg as if I could somehow dictate where she goes and when.
We’ve had disagreements before, but they were always constructive.
I like it when Rosalie stands her ground.
This was something else entirely. I don’t know what came over me.
She hugs Wyatt, who looks embarrassed about it but pleased. She gives me a head nod.
Once she’s in her car and backing out, I turn toward Wyatt and sigh. “Ready to go home?”
He takes the car keys out of my hand and hits the button to unlock my Volvo. “Yeah. My stomach hurts.”
“So does mine.” Though my ache has little to do with the ice cream and everything to do with the war going on inside me.
I probably shouldn’t have sent her the address.
I could have just cancelled the whole thing and eaten ice cream at home.
It would have been rude, but it also would’ve been the safer choice.
Once we’re in the car, he asks, “What were you and Rosie fighting about?”
“We weren’t fighting.”
“You were saying sorry to each other. I heard you.”
I meet his gaze for a second before concentrating on backing out of our spot. The parking lot is tiny and busy. “Well, you know how sometimes when you say stuff without thinking, it can come out rude?”
Wyatt nods like he knows. Because he does.
“That’s what happened with us. So, we had to stop talking and just apologize.
” When we drive past the turnoff that would take us to Esther’s house, I look at him in the rearview mirror.
He’s staring out the window. “Are you okay with Callie sleeping over at your mom’s tonight and not you?
” I’ve been trying to find a good way to ask, but in the end, I’d rather be direct.
Not that he doesn’t understand what a girls’ night is, but fairness means a lot to kids.
“I don’t care. Sometimes Callie wants to paint my nails, but she needs a girl to do that with. Would you let her paint your nails, Dad?”
I smile like I’m about to reveal the world’s greatest secret. “I let her once.”
“How come I never saw it?”
“I used nail polish remover right after.”
“Was she mad?”
“A little.”
Wyatt scoffs. “She gets mad about the dumbest things.”
“She did a good job, and it was a lot of work.”
“Yeah, but what color was it?”
“Blue.”
He wrinkles his nose. “That’s not so bad, I guess.”
“I’d have kept it on, but I had a meeting that afternoon with some people I’d never met before. It would have been distracting.”
Wyatt does a good job impersonating me conducting a meeting while showing off my fingernails. It feels good to laugh.
I can only remember one time as a kid when I made my dad laugh. I reach back and tug on Wyatt’s pant leg. “What do you want to do with the rest of our night?”
He yawns. “I’m kind of tired. Can I put my sleeping bag on the couch and fall asleep to a movie with you?”
“Yeah. We can definitely do that.”
Our bros’ night involves a lively debate over which movie, a popcorn mess I clean up after he falls asleep, and then me sitting in the dark debating whether to text Rosalie for no particular reason. Well, not for no reason. I’d come up with something.
I shouldn’t. I definitely shouldn’t. This is a slippery slope and I’m just skipping down it. I’m staring at my last text with the address to the ice cream shop when a message from her pops up.
Rosalie: I wrote you a letter, but I don’t know how to get it to you.
Liam: Email?
Rosalie: But I wrote it out.
Liam: You could call and read it to me.
Rosalie: Absolutely not. The whole point of this was talking about the details of my date in a normal way, and I can’t be normal if we’re actually having a conversation about it.
Liam: Then I know what we need to do.
I walk over to the desk where I left the letter I wrote her Friday night, the one where I told her Oreos were mid. I pull it out from under the calendar, snap a picture of it with my phone, and send it.
A few seconds later, she sends me a picture of the one she just wrote.
Liam: So, we’re not calling each other?
Rosalie: No. I think I might actually be able to sleep now. I feel like Mr. Darcy after he clears the air with his letter.
Liam: I don’t know what that means. See you Monday.
Suddenly ready for bed myself, I go through my nighttime routine before climbing under the covers with my phone and Googling “Mr. Darcy’s Letter.
” The results give me more context than I need, plus a window into the rabid fanbase of Pride and Prejudice.
But I can’t get lost in YouTube videos of Elizabeth Bennet walking forest paths looking distraught.
What exactly did Rosalie need to clear the air about? I pull up the picture of the letter she sent me and zoom in to read.
Dear Liam,
Did you know that Kambryn sets me up on blind dates?
Trey was a blind date. Actually, I met Brennan as a blind date, too.
Not sure if you knew that. Anyway, tonight’s wasn’t the best blind date I’ve ever been on, but it wasn’t the worst either.
And if my options are to go out with Trey again or get set up with another stranger, you can see why Trey doesn’t seem that bad.
I didn’t want to admit that. I sort of hoped if you thought I was dating Trey, we could go back to the professional, detached relationship we used to have where we’re vaguely aware that the other person is going out on the weekends, but we don’t talk about it.
But let’s face it. We’re past that. I declared us friends, and then you declared us true friends, so now we’re too in each other’s business for lies.
I won’t be dating Trey in any serious way, and I don’t want to lie to you about it.
Also, I don’t know if I can do more than two dates with him.
Trey is a lot. I’m ignoring his texts while I write this.
Also, I am so FULL. Let’s definitely hit that ice cream place again so Callie can experience it, but not right after a carb load.
Hasta la pasta,
Rosalie
True friends. I should have known she’d hold us to that.
I find myself tracing over her signature on the screen and messing up the zoom.
Setting the phone down, I scrub a hand down my face and hate myself a little.
She doesn’t want to lie to me, but my every interaction with her is with the intent of hiding my true feelings. Do I have any other choice, though?