Chapter 47
Forty-Seven
I sit on the back patio of the café and sulk inside my book. I had to get out of my house. Rosalie’s been thinking for twenty-four hours. Twenty-four more silent hours, not even a text. And while it hasn’t been my favorite day, I realized that I wasn’t lying when I told her I’d wait forever.
I never really thought about it. But it might take her forever. She might never come around. And yet—I don’t doubt that I will be here. Waiting.
I spot Carlos watching me, his expression pitiful. And maybe I am pathetic. But I’m not looking for pity.
I blink and refocus on my book. I’m trying another Addison Adams novel. That’s what’s working for Rose. So, why not?
I’ve read two lines—that I’ve read before—when someone plops into the seat across from me. “Rosalie!” I wheeze.
Her hair is tucked back with a headband. Her cheeks are pink and flushed, and her clear blue eyes are bright. She glances from my face to my book, her lips turning up slightly when she realizes what I’m reading.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, resting my book on the table.
She crosses her legs, her skirt sliding up with the movement and showing off her knee. “Did you realize we’re tracking each other’s locations?”
I close my book and fidget with the cover, but I maintain eye contact. She’s here. “Uh, yeah. I did.”
“Have you been using it?”
Running a hand over the back of my neck, I force myself to not look away like the guilty schmuck I am. “Yes.”
“Because you just had to be near me?” she says, her head tilting.
I nod. “Yes.”
The left side of her mouth lifts in a half grin. “Zevulun Hayes, why did it take me so long to love you?”
“Excuse me?” I choke. I’m not sure I heard her right. I’m waiting for her Rosalie wrath and fire.
“The first time, I mean.” She exhales a shaky breath, but her eyes are bright, her expression is pleasant.
I don’t think I’m in trouble. “The fact is, something inside of me knows you—I mean, more than what I know from the last couple months.” She shuts her eyes, thinking, and her nostrils flare with a breath.
“You make sense in my heart. Even if my head can’t work it all out.
I may not remember you from before, Zev.
But something inside of me does.” One tear slips down her cheek. She lifts one shoulder in a shrug.
I should jump for joy, scoop her up, then ask what all this means—but I can’t. I’m too afraid to move. So, I sit still and silent. My body frozen, her words replaying in my head.
“I think,” she says with a swallow, “that sometime in the last six years, I probably learned to make a move.”
I shift, lifting one brow, trying to decipher what she means.
Rosalie slides her chair back, standing, her skirt wafting in a breeze.
I scoot out from beneath the table, ready to follow her.
But Rosalie walks over and stands right in front of me, peering down, her bright blue eyes shining like beacons.
Turning slightly, she sits on my lap. I wrap one arm around her back, keeping her upright and steady.
She cups one hand to my cheek, those beckoning eyes searching mine before she closes the gap between us and presses her lips to mine.
I tug her closer and concentrate on the softness of her lips and the sweetness of her breath. Rosalie. My Rosalie.
“I don’t remember,” she says, her lips brushing mine, the warmth from her breath drifting over my skin. “But my heart longs for yours. You weren’t the only one waiting. I’m sorry it took me so long.”
“I’d wait for you again and again.” Truly, there’s nothing to forgive. And I’ll tell her as much.
Right after I kiss her.