Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
Fran: Callum and I are having a Fourth of July party. Can you come?
Me: As in, the three of us? Just you, me, and Cal?
Fran: It’s a party, Rose.
Me: So, Grammy, too?
Fran: And friends we’d like to introduce you to.
Me: Friends like?
Fran: Friends like Stella.
Me: Thanks. But I have plans.
Fran: ROSE.
Me: I do. While meeting people who I don’t know that already know me sounds like a recipe for disaster, I really do have plans. My café buddy asked me to do something, and I said okay.
It’s a lie. I actually said, No thanks. But apparently, this honest girl is getting in all her white lies this year. Besides, it’s a lie with a good cause. So, I don’t think it counts.
Me: Also… you need to come over. I saw Robert again. While I was with the redhead.
Fran: WAIT. WHAT?
Me: Grammy is waiting. I’m only telling the story once.
Fran: On my way.
My left leg is falling asleep. I have been cross-legged on my living room floor, in the depths of telling Fran and Grammy about my day. About seeing Zev—who I’ve explained to Fran is the redhead—and then Robert.
They are a very attentive audience.
I know that look Fran is giving me. I haven’t mentioned Zev by name until this very minute and I’m certain she’s annoyed with me.
I’ve called him my café buddy and the redhead, and I think she assumed I meant Carlos or some elderly tea-drinking woman I met there.
I let her assume away. So, I might as well get out all my truth and get in all her wrath at once.
“There’s one more thing,” I say, refusing to give life to my dead leg until I have everything out.
“There’s more?” Grammy says with a chuckle. “What an exciting life you’re leading, Rosalie.”
“Yeah.” I swallow, my eyes skirting to Fran. “When Robert came over, I grabbed Zev’s hand, I dragged him over, and I told Robert he was my boyfriend.”
Nonsensical sounds leave Fran’s mouth, and she slaps a hand over her lips.
“I blame you!” I say, my heart racing.
“Me?” She drops her hand, her brows knitting. “I wasn’t even there!”
“Yes! But you made me watch all those romcoms with you. It was the first thing that came to my mind. I never would have thought of that on my own.” I rub my hands together and finally decide it’s time to stand.
My left leg no longer has any feeling in it whatsoever.
And Fran won’t stop staring at me with those wide, deer-in-the-headlight eyes.
I get to my feet, only that first step doesn’t actually agree with me. The rest of my body moves, but my leg is legit dead—it doesn’t come along for the ride, and I topple right over.
I’m on the ground, rolling to my back, looking up at the ceiling. Grammy and Fran step over and peer down at me.
“Rosalie.” Grammy giggles. “I think you’ve really fallen for that redhead.”
Fran snorts out a laugh. She tucks a strand of brown hair behind one ear, the rest of her hair falling around her face, pointing down at me.
I roll my eyes. “You’re hilarious, Grammy. And I haven’t fallen for anyone.”
“Well, you are on the ground, dear.”
Fran laughs.
I hold out a hand to her, shaking my fingers. “Shush and help me up.”
“I didn’t say anything. It was Grammy.” She grabs hold of me and pulls me to my feet.
“My leg is dead,” I say, hopping and smacking my numb thigh.
“Sit on the couch,” Fran commands. “Let’s get back to the boyfriend talk.”
“There’s nothing more to tell.” With Fran’s help, I hop over to the couch and plop onto my backside.
“Oh, I think there is. Boyfriend talk and you have Fourth of July plans with him?”
“Nothing is happening with Zev. It was a short act. Then Robert mentioned wanting to hang out and Zev went all ballistic.”
“Hang out?” Fran’s forehead wrinkles and a frown glosses over her normally happy face.
“Yes. It was harmless. He said we should hang out some time and Zev went off about him being married and Robert being a scumbag. He doesn’t even know Robert. He probably didn’t even mean it. He was just being polite.”
Fran stands next to the couch where I sit, hands on hips. “Robert is a scumbag. If you can’t believe Zev, then you should at the very least believe me.”
“And me,” Grammy says with a little stomp.
Sighing, I lean my head back against the back of the couch.
“I understand. But can you understand that I don’t know that Robert?
” I clasp my hands together. “When I see him, he feels like the same old Robert to me. I don’t know this Margo person.
I don’t have those memories. And—” I almost bite my tongue, but I say it. “I miss him.”
“Rosalie,” Fran whimpers. She sits down next to me, clasping her hand in mine.
“Maybe it was a misunderstanding. Maybe he didn’t cheat. Maybe—”
She shakes her head. “There was no misunderstanding.”
I bite my inner cheek. “You don’t know that.”
“No,” Fran says. “You don’t know that. Noreen and I have perfect clarity on the situation.” Her hand squeezes mine. “Which I know is unfair and not your fault. But you’re going to have to trust us.”
I peer down, knowing she’s right. But the gaps in what I actually know make it hard to accept.
“Tell us more about the redhead,” Grammy says.
“Yeah,” Fran says. “You’ve never mentioned this Zev before.” She presses her lips together, a sign there’s more she wants to say. And I’m sure there is. Fran is very opinionated when it comes to Robert Pattinson. She used to like him.
I’m pretty sure she still likes the vampire—it’s just my Robert she has issues with.
“He’s just a friend. Someone I met at a café. We both like to read.” I shrug. It really is as simple as that.
“Just a friend? You’re spending the Fourth with him,” Fran says, brows raised.
I swallow. I haven’t actually told Zev I’d like to take him up on his offer. “Maybe that’s a bad idea.”
“It’s not.” Fran grips my arm. “You should do it. Tell me about him.”
Grammy starts for me. “He’s a redhead. He’s all muscles, built like a tank, and very sensitive.”
“Grammy,” I hiss.
“That’s what you said, dear.”
I dart my gaze back to Fran. “That is not what I said.”
“More or less.” Grammy waves her hand, seated in Gramp’s recliner chair. “You said you’d never seen so many muscles on a man before and that his arms could be works of art.”
I clear my throat. “I said that he works out.”
“Mm-hmm,” Fran hums. She nibbles on her lip. “And you guys talk…”
“Mostly about books.” I shrug. I don’t know what she’s getting at.
“Does he know about your—”
“NO,” I bark. “And I’m not about to tell him.”
She sighs. “Okay. Well, does he know other things? Like that you’re a teacher?”
I scoff. “No. Why would I tell him that? I’m not.”
“Sweetie,” Fran says, wrapping one arm around me. “You are a teacher. A dang good one. You should be proud.”
“A teacher who doesn’t remember one day in the classroom. A teacher who switched from secondary to elementary with no clue as to why she would have done so. I have a degree—”
“You have a job,” Fran says.
“One I’m not even sure how to do. I’m going to tell them to consider my sick leave over. I won’t be back.”
“Rose!”
But I come right back at her with my own bark. “Fran! I don’t remember going to school. I don’t remember graduating.”
“Maybe if we talked about it more.”
I sit up, out of her hold, and glare at the woman. What is she suggesting?
Grammy claps, snatching our attention. “We’ve had a lot of excitement today, girls. Let’s be done arguing. Rosalie’s on a new path, Fran. She’ll get to where she needs to be. Have faith.”
Grammy makes it sound so simple. As if I’ve decided to take a trip and we’re just arguing over the map and which road to take.
Me: You were right. I was wrong. And I need you to forgive me.
Zev: Rosalie?
Me: Am I not in your contacts?
Zev: You are. Of course you are. I… I’m unsure what I’m forgiving you for.
Me: Oh.
Me: Yesterday. With Robert. One, I should never have told him you were my boyfriend. Two, he’s not a scumbag. But he is married. I shouldn’t—and wouldn’t—consider seeing him socially.
Zev: I already forgave you. I was never angry.
Me: I needed to say it again.
Zev: Okay then, let me say this—
Zev: One, I’m not offended that you fabricated our relationship. If you happen to run into any more exes with a need for a boyfriend, I’m at your service.
Zev: Two, I’m glad to hear you aren’t going to go out with Robert. He doesn’t deserve you.
I reread the text three times, smirk, and close out my phone.
I need Zev’s friendship. I can’t explain it.
I just do. And while we disagree on the topic of Robert Pattinson, I’m getting used to it.
Everyone disagrees with me on this topic.
I’m not going to let that little fact affect my new friendship.
Me: Do you still want to hang out with me on the Fourth?
Zev: I do.
Me: Okay then. I’m in.
Zev: See you in three days then.
Me: Or… Lunch tomorrow?
Zev: I’ll bring you a book.
Me: Nope. It’s my turn. I’ve got something for you to read.