Chapter 18 – Beck
BECK
Gazing at Rosie in the tub takes me back to both simpler and harder times.
It’s like no time has passed at all and we’re suddenly right back to where we were all those years ago.
She’s beautiful, with her dark auburn waves pulled up, exposed freckles on the tops of her shoulders, and her eyes closed.
Just…breathtaking. I’m a dick for thinking it. I’m even more of a dick for looking.
But no matter how many times I tell myself she’s taken, that she belongs to another man, in my heart—she’s mine.
My fingers fidget in my lap and I drop my eyes to try to focus on them because continuing to stare at her is pure torture. “So your fiancé—West—I’m assuming he knows all about your illness and is supportive?”
“He’s as supportive as he knows how to be,” she admits quietly, releasing a low breath after the words have escaped.
Cautiously I lift my gaze to her, and I can’t help the defensiveness that rises in me. “What does that mean?”
“He always makes sure the kitchen is stocked with tea and ice cream. And he’ll take care of Charlie if I need to go to an appointment. Unless he’s working. Then he’s hired a nanny to help out.”
“A nanny?” My brows lift.
“Yes, Beck. A nanny.”
Intensity rises in my gut. “Why can’t he make it a point to just be there? For Charlie, for you?”
“I don’t know. I guess not every guy is as perfect as you,” she bites out, then clamps her mouth shut like she’s sorry for it.
I don’t know whether I should be offended or flattered.
“Ha,” I bark out, leaning my head back too hard against the wall. “I’m far from perfect. You and I both can attest to that.”
She doesn’t respond.
Staring up at the ceiling, I try to focus on the dust in the fan while I speak.
“If I were perfect, I would’ve put my ego aside and chased after you when you left.
” I’m not even sure I should be saying what I’m saying.
But I keep going anyway, lowering my gaze to meet hers.
“Hell, I should never even have let you leave in the first place. If I hadn’t…
well, if I hadn’t, I would’ve known about Charlie sooner.
I could’ve been there for her…for you. We could’ve been a family. Like we always planned.”
“Beck,” she finally says, and my name echoes in the hollow of the bathroom.
I’m tempted to keep going. To say all the things I should’ve said to her seven summers ago. But she’s giving me the look like I shouldn’t. So I don’t.
“You’re here now,” is what she whispers, and her words hum across my skin.
I dip my chin and swallow back all the things I want to say, all the remorse.
We sit in silence for a few torturous moments.
“Want a cold washcloth for your forehead?”
“That would be nice, thank you.”
I hop up and pull a washcloth from the cabinet and run it under the cold water for several long beats, watching her reflection in the mirror. She adjusts in the tub and I get a peek at her tits before forcing myself to swallow and look away.
I wring out the excess water and shuffle back over to the tub, where I fold the washcloth before setting it gently on her forehead.
Her beautiful green eyes disappear as they flutter closed and she releases a moan.
The intoxicating sound sends a zing straight through my core and my dick twitches.
I’m in caretaker mode, but I can’t shut off my hormones.
Being this close to Rosie, while only a layer of bubbles separates her naked body from my eyes… I’m about to come unglued.
Crouching near her, I drag the wet washcloth across her forehead and lift it to dab at her temples.
I brush her wisps of loose curls off her face, and she lets out another little moan.
I’m desperate to continue drawing out these adorable mewls.
I must be down bad for her still, because I can’t stop.
“How’s that?” I whisper hoarsely.
She gives a little nod. “It’s good. But I need more.”
The hint of her begging has my dick hardening and straining against the front of my pants. I’m thankful this tub ledge is separating her view of me.
Her eyes fly open, and she stares into mine with abashment shining in hers. “Colder. I need it colder,” she rushes out in correction.
My lips pull up in the corner, amused. “Okay. I’m on it.” I run the cold water again and repeat the process, taking several deep breaths in and out so I don’t send myself into a panic attack.
When I return, her eyes are closed. I lay the washcloth across her forehead again, but this time, I abandon it and return to my place on the floor. Her eyes blink a few times before she studies me, and I force myself to look away.
“Thanks,” she finally whispers. “For staying,” she elaborates.
“No problem. I had nothing else going on.” I cross one leg over the other and make myself focus on the framed art of coral hanging on the wall above her head.
“So no hot date tonight?” she teases.
I shoot her a mock glare. “Nah. Funny how fast word gets around in a small town that I’m still married.”
“Oh, right.” She winces. “Sorry.”
I hunch a shoulder. “Whatever,” I mutter. “It’s fine.”
“I really am glad you’re here tonight.”
When I glance her way, she’s smiling and worrying at her lower lip, and we hold eye contact for a long time. Maybe both of us saying all the unsaid things in our minds that we’ll probably never get the courage to say out loud.
When Rosie is ready to get out of the tub, I leave her to get dressed and go downstairs to make her some chamomile tea.
I unplug her heating pad from near the sofa and take it and the hot mug back upstairs.
I push open the bedroom door with my foot.
She’s already tucked in under the blankets on the bed.
A smile brightens her face. She already looks better.
“I found your heating pad and made you some tea.”
“Beck,” she says on an exhale. “You didn’t need to do that.”
“It’s fine. I didn’t want to leave you without making sure you have everything you need first.” I set the cup on her nightstand.
“You’re leaving?”
I rub at the back of my neck. “Yeah. I should let you get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”
“It has. I haven’t even had the chance to tell you about what happened at the reading of Dottie’s will.”
“Right,” I mutter, like it hasn’t been at the forefront of my mind since she returned earlier. “Anything exciting?” I crouch in front of the nightstand and plug in her heating pad. When she doesn’t answer, I sit up on my knees and look at her.
She’s got a bottle of pain meds in her grip that she’s fiddling with.
“Rosie? What happened?” I snatch the bottle and open it for her before handing it back.
Our fingers graze slightly and she sighs. “Well, it turns out, Stella was right about a few things. Dottie did want me and Charlie to move back here. She left us her house. Charlie and me.”
“Oh.” My mouth goes dry as I stand and cross my arms like I need to prepare myself. “And? What are you gonna do?”
Her gaze lifts to meet mine and I catch the uncertainty in them. “I don’t know.”
“C’mon, Rosie, you gotta give me something.” I pace in the bedroom. “You must have an idea of what you want to do.”
“I don’t.” She shakes her head. “I’m too exhausted to think clearly right now.”
“No shit,” I sputter. “Since you let me in there while you were taking a bath.”
“Whoa.” She straightens, propping herself up in the bed. “What does that mean?”
“That you’re not thinking clearly. You’re engaged to another man but then you asked me to stay in there…while you took a bath.” I stop pacing and throw my hand up. “And I think I know why.”
“Yeah? You think you’re so smart, huh?” With her eyes narrowed, she shields herself by pulling her knees to her chest and hugging them. “Okay, tell me why.”
“Because,” I shout. “Because I think you still have feelings for me.”
The look on her expression shifts, almost like she’s been punched.
“Just admit it.”
“So what if I do?” she cries out. “So what? You still have feelings for me,” she accuses.
“I never said that,” I bite back.
“No? Then tell me otherwise.” She lowers the blankets and rises to her knees. “Tell me you don’t still love me.”
“You tell me you don’t still love me!” I holler back, stopping at the foot of the bed.
“You’re the one who’s still holding on to a marriage that hasn’t been anything more than a piece of paper in seven years.”
With my hands clenched in fists at my sides, I open my mouth, but then clamp it shut again, my heart hammering in my chest. This could be it, Beck. This could be the moment you finally admit your feelings and set this life on track again.
“Mama?” Charlie’s voice sounds out and I whip around and find her standing in the open doorway, squeezing her stuffed mermaid to her chest.
“Hey, baby girl. You okay?” Rosie asks.
“I’m okay.” She rubs a clamped fist over her eye. “Are you okay, Mama?”
“Of course, Beck was just getting ready to go. He got me some tea and plugged in my heating pad for me first.”
“Daddy, do you really gotta go?” Charlie asks, and the question nearly splits my chest in half.
I crouch in front of her and take her little hand in mine. “I do. But I’ll try to come by tomorrow. To see you and check on your mom.”
“Okay.” She wraps her free arm around my neck, giving me a hug.
“Now, why don’t you go cuddle with your mom. I’m sure it will do her some good.”
“I like the sound of that. Come up here with me, Charlie.” Rosie opens the covers, and Charlie runs over and crawls into the bed with her.
“I’ll check in with you tomorrow,” I announce.
Rosie dips her chin. “Thanks.”
I turn and walk out of the bedroom, not able to look back for fear it’ll break me. “Good night,” I mumble over my shoulder before I rush down the hall and stairs. Leaving my family is more difficult than I ever thought it would be. Except they aren’t mine.
And maybe that hurts the most.