15. Rose
ROSE
Sitting in my parked car outside the diner, I take a much-needed pause to gather myself before going inside.
I use the mirror on the visor to take a quick peek at my face.
I wipe the smudged makeup from my cheeks caused by tears I didn’t even notice had fallen, then I take a deep breath.
This is nothing a milkshake can’t solve. A very large milkshake.
When I push the diner door open, Shirley lifts her head from the book she was reading to make eye contact with me. “Hey, Shirley, it’s just me tonight.” Shirley gestures toward the booth Luc and I sat in last night. I only hesitate for a second before walking over and sliding onto the bench seat.
“Hey, sweetheart, what can I get you tonight?”
“Can I get an Oreo milkshake? I think I saw that on the menu when I was here yesterday. If not, then just a black coffee is fine.” Defeat is clear in my voice, and Shirley doesn’t miss it.
“Sure, dear, one Oreo milkshake coming right up.”
Shirley, the goddess, doesn’t pry or ask if I’m okay because that would probably shred through the last strings of my control and release the waterworks.
I’m thankful that I’m the only customer in here tonight.
I don’t need anyone else witnessing my pity party.
But just like that, I spoke too soon as the bell over the door chimes, announcing the entrance of a new patron.
“Hi there. Sit anywhere, and I’ll be right with you,” Shirley says from behind the counter where she’s making my milkshake.
“Thank you,” the new arrival responds.
I would recognize that low and gravelly timbre anywhere.
Kill me now. I just wanted to wallow in peace.
Maybe he won’t see me sitting here. I’ll just keep my head down and focus on the cracked table.
Act natural, Ro. Nothing to see here, just the only other customer in the joint minding her own business.
“Rose.”
My name from that voice is like a command I can’t ignore.
“Dante.” I raise my eyes to meet his and try but fail to match his intense smolder. At least I didn’t word vomit everything that happened tonight the moment I saw his face. Or worse, start crying. I couldn’t handle any more humiliation after the few days I’ve had. Surely, I’ve met my yearly quota.
“May I?” Dante asks as he gestures to the seat across from me.
“Um, sure. I mean, yes, of course.”
Dante lowers himself into the booth and just looks at me with that intensity that seems to cause me to lose all brain function. I can’t stop the words from spilling out.
“Sorry I missed your calls earlier. I was, uh, dealing with something. I had planned to call you back first thing in the morning. I hope it wasn’t an emergency. I don’t normally miss calls from clients, and this won’t happen in the future.”
He doesn’t respond, per usual, so I do the only thing I know to do in his presence—I fill the silence with mindless babbling.
“Now that you’re here, we can discuss whatever it is that you were calling me about.
Do you have more notes or changes on what we discussed today?
I was just about to place a few orders to start shipping items as soon as possible.
I know you have a tight timeline, but I can make any adjustments you request. Personally, I think the designs will look amazing.
I know that might sound biased since I created them, but I’m being honest. This is the most fun project I’ve worked on in a long time.
Normally, I’m dealing with old, stuffy people with more money than taste.
Not that I would ever talk negatively about a client.
Or that I’m implying you don’t have money because I’m sure you have plenty of money. I’m just saying you have good taste.”
Right on cue, Shirley comes over with my milkshake and a menu for Dante, thankfully ending my monologue.
“Here is your milkshake, sweetie. I added extra Oreos for you. It looks like you needed it. Would you like a few minutes to look over the menu before ordering?” This question is clearly directed at Dante, but his eyes haven’t left mine.
Giving me his signature eyebrow quirk and pinning me with a questioning stare, he asks, “Did you eat dinner?”
What am I, twelve? Who does this man think he is, my father? If I want to have a milkshake for dinner, then I’ll have a milkshake for dinner.
“I wasn’t very hungry.” Take that, Daddy Dante. Pause. Delete. I cannot start referring to him as Daddy Dante in my head because my internal thoughts seem to become external words around this man. And the last thing I need to do is call him Daddy…out loud.
Without hesitating, Dante turns to Shirley and orders two cheeseburgers with no onions and extra pickles with tater tots on the side. Oh and a side of ranch.
Mouth agape. How does this man know how I like my burgers? There is no way that’s some kind of cosmic coincidence.
“Uh, I hope you are just really hungry, and both of those burgers are for you. Plus, what if I don’t like pickles?”
Shirley must take that as her cue to leave because she just nods and heads back behind the counter to put in the order with the kitchen.
“You need to eat.”
“I am eating.” I gesture to my Oreo milkshake.
“What were you dealing with earlier when I called?” Dante asks, clearly ignoring my childish protest about dinner.
“Oh, it was nothing. Just working out the logistics of my stay with the motel manager.” Understatement of the century. I add a wave of my hand in an attempt to move past this subject.
“Why does it look like you’ve been crying?”
Does this man notice everything? Does he have X-ray vision into my soul?
“Um, it’s nothing. There was just an issue with my room, but I have it under control.”
“What kind of issue?”
“Wow, this milkshake is really good. Would you like to try some?” Was that too obvious a subject change? Yes. Do I care? No.
“Rose.”
There he goes again using my name as a command. I am powerless to resist when he says my name like that.
“I had to move rooms because someone broke into mine,” I mumble into my straw as quickly as possible, hoping he won’t press me further. But this is Dante we’re talking about, so of course he won’t let this go.
I swear the air stills with the poorly leashed rage in Dante’s eyes.
The bugs outside cease their chirping, the sizzle of our burgers on the grill pauses, and the buzz of the neon Open sign by the door halts.
It’s like the sounds around us do a collective record scratch on his command.
I’m even holding my breath, waiting for Dante to break the tension created by my words.
I don’t think he’s even blinked since I spoke. I have to say something before I burst.
“Actually, I wanted to let you know I will be heading back into the city tomorrow for a few days. I will be sure to return before any of the deliveries arrive, so no need to worry about your strict timelines. Everything will stay on track. Plus, I can use that time to source a few of the pieces we discussed from some of my local contacts. It’ll be better for me to be in the city.
And then I won’t be in Luca’s way as he and his team complete the finishing touches I requested.
I’ll still be available to you by phone if anything comes up.
And I promise to answer when you call. Today was abnormal.
I always have my phone on me. It’s practically glued to my hand.
Not that I get any calls or messages outside of work.
I mean, I do, but work comes first. My clients come first. You come first. As a client of course.
My only client actually. Not that I can’t get other clients, I just wanted to ensure I have the time and energy to fully service you.
” My eyes widen as the words continue to tumble out.
“Rose,” Dante says in the softest tone I’ve heard him use since I met him. Like he doesn’t want to spook a wild animal, he places his hand over mine, which is clenched in a fist on the table. “Tell me what happened to your room.”
With that small amount of physical contact, whatever lies or excuses were about to spew from my mouth are frozen.
“Oh, um, well, the door to my room was broken and left open when I returned earlier. But I’m sure it’s nothing.
They didn’t take anything, just messed up my stuff a bit, which is another reason I need to head back into the city.
I will need to grab more clothes and personal items since I’ll be staying up here longer than I had originally planned. ”
I know I’m underplaying the extent of the damage and the fear it caused me, but Dante doesn’t need to know all of that.
It’s not like he will ever find out what actually happened or even be able to help me figure out who did it.
It’s not worth risking further embarrassment by telling him what was done to my stuff.
“And you’re planning on staying there tonight?”
“Yes, it’s the closest place in town, and I’ll be checking out in the morning anyway, so it’s not a big deal. I actually think they had the wrong room and mine was broken into by mistake.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you think that was meant for someone else?”
“Oh, it’s nothing really. There was just something written on the mirror in the bathroom that doesn’t make any sense.
I’m guessing some boyfriend or husband thinks their girl was cheating and was just trying to scare her.
” Now that I’ve had more time to process everything, that actually feels like a logical excuse for what happened and is setting my nerves at ease a bit.
Especially considering I have to stay there tonight.
“What did it say?”
“Huh?”
“Rose, what was written on the mirror?”
“Oh, ‘Hello, Princess.’ So weird, right? I’m guessing a jilted lover’s quarrel or something silly.
No one has ever called me princess either.
” What kind of lovey-dovey bullshit is that anyway?
Do women even like pet names? I hope whoever she is will break up with him because I guarantee she deserves better than whatever psycho would break into her hotel room and write some lazy message on the mirror.
Ruining her lipstick, no less! I know lipstick is the least of my worries at this point, but still…
it’s the principle of the matter. Do men even realize how expensive makeup is these days?
I’m momentarily lost in my thoughts that I don’t register right away that Dante hasn’t responded until he abruptly stands from the booth.
“I have to go,” Dante states as he fishes several hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and tosses them on the table.
“What? Why? Our food hasn’t even arrived yet.”
“I’ve lost my appetite. You can box up whatever you don’t eat.”
“Um, oooookay. At least let me cover the meal. It can be a business expense.” I’m standing now to match Dante’s frantic energy.
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
I’m locked in a stare off with Dante when Shirley arrives to deliver our two plates of food. I wasn’t really hungry before, but now that it’s here, it smells amazing. Damn him for ordering my favorite meal.
“Shirley, can we get these both boxed up to go?” I ask Shirley without breaking eye contact with Dante. This woman must think I’m incapable of eating a meal at this diner because this is the second time in two days I’ve asked to have my meal boxed up before I’ve even touched it.
Shirley looks back and forth between Dante and me. We haven’t moved from our standoff.
“I’ll be right back,” Shirley responds, clearly exasperated with an accompanying eye roll. I am going to tip this lady like crazy and likely never show my face here again.
“You need to eat,” Dante insists.
“And I will, if you let me pay.” Ha! Got him. I can sense his indecision lingering.
“Fine,” he grits out.
“Fine,” I add with a triumphant smile.
Shirley returns with both meals boxed up and drops the check on the table. I make sure to scoop it up before Dante has a chance to change his mind.
“I’ll email you an update on delivery timelines once I get home tomorrow and will let you know when I expect to return.”
With a nod and a scowl, Dante grabs his boxed-up food and storms out the door.
Sheesh, what’s got his panties in a twist?
He didn’t actually want to pay that bad, did he?
Maybe a few days apart will be good for both of us.
I seem to press that man’s buttons no matter what I do.
I turn to Shirley with my credit card to cover our meals, but with a smirk on her face, she informs me that Dante already paid her directly before leaving.
I will see that infuriating man let go of control at some point if it’s the last thing I do.