Chapter 21
Twenty-One
Present Day
The patio table in Callum’s backyard, with my closest friends sitting around it, goes deathly quiet. All eyes on me.
“What?” My foot taps nervously beneath the table.
“You told her you were still in love with your last girlfriend?” Maggie’s brows are knit.
She looks from me to Lucca. She may be a referee, but not in Callum’s backyard, so why is she questioning this?
Why is she looking at me like I’m guilty?
What else was I supposed to say? I can’t lie about my feelings for Rosalie.
But then everyone else is looking at me the same way.
“Oh sweetie,” Fran says. And I hate the pitiful tone she’s using.
“It’s just—” Stella bounces little Ivy on her lap. She licks her lips and peers down at her baby who squawks out a cry.
Roman stands, and our resident Red Tail grump holds out his arms for the baby girl. “I think everyone is worried that if you’re telling her you’re still in love with someone else—”
“With Rosalie,” I bark. “Not someone else.”
“Yes, but Rosalie doesn’t know that,” Callum says, sitting up straighter, his voice the sound of reason.
“Oh boy,” Lucca mutters.
“Exactly,” Stella says. “So, it might be hard for Rosalie to believe that you could fall in love with her now.”
“She’s going to get her memory back.” My fingers fist in my lap.
And again, the table goes quiet.
“Maybe,” Fran finally says. “But it’s been almost seven months, and nothing. There’s no guarantee she will.”
I sit back in my patio chair, slumping into the seat. “I couldn’t lie to her. Not about that.”
Stella sniffs next to me, tears pooling in her eyes.
Before someone else can start crying, I stand. “I’ll be back.” I look at Callum. “Can I use the bathroom?”
“Zev,” he grunts. “Stop asking. Go.”
He probably thinks I’m about to burst into tears, too. And maybe I would have a few months ago. What am I saying? I absolutely could right now. But I don’t plan to, I just need a minute alone.
I sit on the toilet in Fran and Callum’s guest bath and peer down at my phone.
Rosalie is on the move. But I’m not sure where she’s going.
It isn’t Monday, so no Sugar Pine Café. Wednesday is normally her library day.
But it’s Saturday. Most Saturdays, she stays home.
But she’s on Second Street. I’m not even sure what’s there besides construction.
I zoom in on her location dot, waiting for her to stop.
She does, but she’s literally near nothing. Maybe she’s having car trouble.
The thought, real or not, spurs me into action. Rushing out to the backyard, my friend’s chatter quiets at my sudden reappearance. “Hey—”
“We have a plan,” Lucca says, interrupting me.
“Maybe a small Fourth of July get-together,” Maggie gives one shoulder a shrug.
“I don’t know, guys.” Fran clamps down on one lip. “I’m not sure she’s ready.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to try. A low-pressure way to be introduced to all of us.” Stella’s holding her baby once more. She stands, rocking from side to side as the little girl snatches fistfuls of her hair. “And if she can see Zev there, all the better.”
“Uh—good plan,” I say. Though I’m not sure it is. It sounds like something that would overwhelm her. But then, I’m not the only one who misses her. “I have to go.”
“Zev,” Fran whines. She probably thinks I’m trying to escape the whole backyard impromptu intervention they’re having on my behalf. Actually, fleeing the intervention is just a bonus.
“I’m fine. I’ll see you all later. Let me know about the Fourth.”
I don’t have time to worry about a Lucca-harebrained idea right now. Rosalie might need me.
I follow the map on my location app all the way to Second Street—when I see it.
Chicago deep dish pizza. A food truck. Which is why it didn’t show up as an establishment on my app. The only other thing happening on this street is construction for something the city is building. It’s an entire block long, and the food truck has a perfect setup for all the workers.
I smirk. “She always loved pizza, but especially deep dish.”
There’s one picnic table and my girl sits at it, book in hand, waiting for her order. Pepperoni, olives, and banana peppers—every single time.
I’m feeling better and better about skipping out on my support session lunch at Callum’s. I march up to the truck and place my order. I glance back at her, other than the drilling, buzzing, and pounding of construction around us—it’s just the two of us.
“Zev?” Rosalie says, my name sounding like a chorus of angels on her lips.
I turn around to see her peering over at me from her picnic table. “Hey. You again,” I say.
“Yeah. You like this food truck, too?”
“Oh yeah, I love a good deep dish.” I pocket my change, then walk over to the table.
She grins, liking that I share a love for her favorite kind of pizza. “This truck is the only place in town with deep dish. It only comes through once a month.”
“That’s good to know.” I rock on my heels. “You look like you’re feeling better.”
“Oh,” she gulps. “I am. Thanks. Um. The soup did the trick. That was really nice of you. I should have texted. I—”
“Rosalie.” I shake my head. “Please, don’t worry about it. It’s been two days. I’m just glad to see you’ve turned a corner.”
She sniffs. “Still stuffed up.” She shrugs one shoulder. “But I no longer feel like I’ve been trampled by a rhino.”
I laugh. “Well, that’s a change in the right direction.”
“Do you want to join me?” Her nose wrinkles like it does when she’s unsure about something.
“I’d like that.” I move across from her and sit at the picnic table. “What are you reading today?”
“I’m finishing the book we started.” Her eyes cast down, almost like she’s embarrassed. “It’s good. No romance. But it’s good.”
“It is. I’m glad you like it.” I knew she would. She’s the one who made me read it. As much as I love to read, it was like my library doubled when I fell in love with Rosalie.
“I read the other one, too. The Invisible Boy.” Her brows pull together, thoughtful. “I binged it yesterday. I should have told you. It was interesting. It was inspiring and—”
“Rosalie,” a worker from the food truck calls out the window.
Rosalie grins at me—she’s excited—and stands to collect her meal.
There’s another man ordering and he turns at her name, too.
A small gasp sounds from Rose, and she peeks back at me, eyes wide, as if I should know what’s happening. Maybe I should. But I don’t.
“Rosalie?” the man ordering says with a laugh. “Wow. Twice in one month.”
She backpedals to me. Her hand stretches out and it’s natural and easy to let mine slip into Rosalie’s. With her eyes as wide as Bambi’s, she pulls me to my feet. My chest bumps hers, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
“Forgive me for what I’m about to do,” she whispers.
I am lost. “Uh—” I don’t have time to say more before her fingers lace with mine and she turns back to the waiting customer who called out to her.
I don’t know his face.
She walks me over to pick up her order, and that’s when she says what I should have realized right away. “Hello, Robert.”