Chapter 10 – Rosie
ROSIE
He hates me
Stella
He doesn’t hate you. He loves you!
You didn’t see him
You didn’t hear what he said to me
Stella
He just needs to remember that he loves you
You don’t just forget you love someone
Stella
I promise after you spend some time together he’s gonna remember
But what if he can’t forgive me?
Stella
He will
When Beck shows up at Dottie’s to pick Charlie and me up, he doesn’t speak to me, but he’s talkative to Charlie. That’s all that matters. But I won’t lie, my heart is bruised over the fact that he’s giving me the silent treatment. There was a time when we could talk for hours.
You’d hardly notice the unspoken silent treatment because Charlie is speaking a mile a minute from her booster in the back seat of Beck’s Chevrolet.
She’s flying through questions for him. He entertains some and dodges the ones he doesn’t know how to answer.
I suppose he could’ve looked to me for assistance while I sat staring out the windshield, but he didn’t bother.
It should surprise me how easily they’re getting along, but it doesn’t. Because I knew they would hit it off.
Beck’s dressed in jeans today and a plain black fitted T-shirt.
From the passenger seat, I only allow my eyes a few seconds to travel over his stature.
The same defined biceps I couldn’t help but notice the night at the beach when he had his wetsuit bunched around his waist. The corded forearms that flex each time he grips the steering wheel tighter.
It’s this simple detail that reminds me of his anxiety.
This time caused by me and the impossibly difficult decisions I made years ago that have now brought us to this point.
Beck parks against the curb in front of a row of pastel painted buildings. I hop out and open the back door for Charlie while I peer up at the sign on the closest building, shielding my eyes from the morning sun. Seashell Bookshop. It’s new since I lived in Golden Harbor.
We enter the shop, me following on their heels because Beck is trying his damn hardest to make it clear I’m the third wheel today. His point is made clear when I nearly do a faceplant into the glass door because he doesn’t hold it for me. Guess I deserve that. And far worse.
Inside, there’s a coffee bar and a glass display case with baked goods on one side of the shop.
It smells like freshly ground coffee beans mixed with cinnamon and a hint of maple.
There are books on tables, on display in the windows, and on shelves throughout the entire space.
I haven’t made much time for reading lately.
The only books I’ve read are ones for children or non-fictions about endometriosis.
But I find myself drawn to the colorful spines and organized stacks of illustrated romance covers. Though me and romance? Pfft. I shake my head. “Not in this lifetime,” I mutter under my breath, and drag my palm across a cover regretfully.
“Charlie, want a treat?” Beck pipes up.
“Yes!” She jumps up and down.
“They’ve got the best sugar cookies.” He waves us toward the coffee bar and I follow behind. “Any food allergies I should know about?” he asks over his shoulder.
It’s the first words he’s spoken to me today, so I almost don’t realize he’s directing the question at me. “No…no food allergies.”
Charlie skips to the display case and peers at all the delicious baked goods. My mouth practically waters at the sight of the cinnamon roll. But at the same time, my brain recoils. As much as my taste buds would love it, my stomach would make me pay for it later if I indulged.
Beck crouches next to her and points out all his favorite treats. My heart can’t hardly take the image of the two of them interacting. It’s small and simple. But to them, and me, this is new. This is a first.
I try not to hover over Charlie and give them a little space. Even if it is hard. I know it’s important for them. I peruse the books stacked by the windows. I recognized several covers. Romance and thrillers that have been circulating on social media. I pick one up and skim the back cover.
“Did you want anything?” Beck calls from the register.
“Um, no, I’m good. Thanks,” I reply, taken aback. But as I observe how chummy he is with the woman behind the counter, I have to assume he’s putting on an act for her.
“Their cinnamon rolls are gluten free,” he finally adds.
“Really? Then yeah, I’d love one.” I shuffle over to join him at the register, unzipping my purse to retrieve my wallet.
He shoves me away, his elbow brushing against my bicep. “I got it.” He taps his card on the reader.
“I’ll pay you back,” I mutter, blinking back my disbelief over his unexpected generosity.
“Don’t worry about it.” He gives Charlie her big pink seashell-shaped cookie.
Her eyes go big, and her smile matches it. “Ooooo thank you,” she squeals.
Beck chuckles and my stomach swoops at the sound. A flicker of memories follow it. I haven’t heard that genuine laugh in so long. And I’m not sure how it’s possible, going so long without hearing a sound that used to be one of your favorites.
“You’re welcome,” he says to her. To me, he gestures toward the counter. “There’s yours.”
“Thanks,” I mumble.
By the time I snatch my cinnamon roll and spin around, the bell above the door chimes as Beck and Charlie go outside.
I twist my lips to the side and sigh, grabbing a couple of napkins before following behind them once again.
Guess I deserve this. I’m only here because he knows I wouldn’t allow Charlie to go without me.
The two of them sit at a colorful square table with two bench seats that rest partially on the cinder pavers in front of the shop and partially on the sidewalk. There’s a seagull circling overhead waiting for some crumbs.
Charlie hasn’t taken a bite of her cookie yet. She’s still admiring it. “Mama? Take a picture of me with my cookie.” Her smile is so big it’s like she’s swallowed a hanger.
I can’t help it, but I smile too seeing that wide, toothless grin. “Oh, right, almost forgot.” This is something Charlie and I love to do. When we eat something new, we always take a picture first. My phone is full of food photos.
Sliding my phone free from the back pocket of my denim shorts, I position it while the seagull squawks above my head and distracts me. I hope he knows getting pooped on is not on my bingo card today. I hurry and snap a few pictures of Charlie smiling and holding up her big cookie.
“Send it to West,” she says sweetly, and my gaze darts at Beck, but he drops his head before we can lock eyes. “Now you need to get one of my daddy’s cookie too.”
“Oh. Um…I mean, maybe he doesn’t want a picture.” I bite on my lower lip; the easy way Charlie refers to Beck as her daddy is still new and a bit unsettling.
“Please, it’s fun,” she coaxes, pulling up her legs and tucking them underneath her on the small wood bench. I scootch in next to her and sit down on the edge of it so only one of my ass cheeks is hanging off.
“Sure, I’d love a picture,” he agrees.
“Me and Mommy do it all the time.”
Beck gives me a crooked smile, and my core tightens without warning. He holds his cookie up close to his face. His is a blue seashell. I take the picture and when I bring my phone down, his smile has already vanished.
I eat my cinnamon roll and try to refrain from moaning at how decadent it is.
Finding a gluten free cinnamon roll that actually tastes good is a challenge.
So far, I’ve only found one café in Seattle.
Most of the time, I skip sweets. They’re too hard to trust and there’s no telling how my body will react.
While Beck and Charlie chat, I scroll on my phone mindlessly, not paying attention to anything that comes across my screen.
Even if one post is a baby announcement from my cousin and another is a sale post by the brand I buy my black tees from for work.
It’s too hard to give my focus to my screen when my baby girl is chatting with her father.
The man who once held my entire life while giving me the space to grow.
A text comes through from West. My initial reaction is to swipe it away. Which—what is that about?
West
Morning beautiful! How are my girls?
Morning! Charlie found herself a cookie that’s almost as big as her face!
I send him the picture of her.
West
Bet she’s enjoying it!
She is. I’m sure she’ll be talking about this cookie for weeks
West
Think you’ll be able to come home sooner?
I need to meet with Dottie’s lawyer. Could be here a little longer than I originally thought
West
Try your hardest to wrap things up. I miss my girls
We miss you too
Maybe we could talk later?
West
Sure. I should be free after Charlie goes to bed
Perfect.
West doesn’t know who Charlie’s father is. He never even asked if he lived in Golden Harbor. My guess is, he doesn’t want to know. But if I’m going to marry him, I owe him the truth. Especially now that Beck knows.
It will be a tough conversation that I would’ve preferred to have face-to-face.
But time didn’t permit. There were so many decisions to make right after Dottie passed.
Not only for the memorial, but she had specific afterlife plans.
Some I haven’t even heard. I imagine that is the conversation I’ll be having with her lawyer.
“Mama?”
I flip my phone over on the table and glance up at Charlie just as the annoying seagull comes in for a landing a few feet from us on the sidewalk. “Hmm?”
“My daddy wants to take me to the beach. Can I go?”
Turning toward Beck, my lips slip into a frown as my stomach coils. How did I miss this part of their conversation? Is he wanting to take Charlie without me?
“Daddy says it’s a special beach. Please, Mama,” she begs.
I trace my fingers down the front of my throat. “I don’t know. I’m not sure we have time to go to the beach.”
“It’s close,” Beck assures me with grit in his tone, his expression stony.
Charlie’s got her little hands clasped while she straightens on her knees. “Pleeeease.”
Beck holds eye contact with me. In his I see the pain and anger that I caused. The very things he could hold over my head to get me to agree to anything he suggests or asks for.
“Sure,” I give in, faking a strong smile for Charlie. Just like I’ve been doing for the last six years, even when my heart is about to shatter and my chest threatens to collapse.