“She gave him a chance,” her dad went on, staring out the window.
“He—what?” She hadn’t known much about her uncle’s relationship with her aunt, but Dad was having one of his rare moments of lucidity.
“He loved her. She loved him. But they didn’t always get along. They learned to work through it.”
Rosabel slid from her place on the stool to kneel before him. “Was this before or after they were married?”
“Their dating life was on and off. They dated. They broke up. They dated. They broke up.” His eyes were clearer than they’d been in years. The sight tugged her heartstrings. “But they didn’t want to live without each other, so they made their marriage work.”
“How?” Rosabel asked, desperation in her voice. She wanted the answer, praying he could give it to her before his mind slipped again. The fact that Duncan was the first thing on her mind when she woke, that he occupied her thoughts throughout the entire day and even graced her dreams, made things all the more urgent.
She loved Duncan. She’d tried denying that fact, but she no longer could.
The moments they’d shared together in Eureka Springs had been nothing short of incredible: his attentiveness, his kind, sweet comments, and his enticing kisses. He had been trying to change, and something told her he would keep trying to keep his promise to her. She needed someone else’s confirming words.
“Seek to understand, not to be understood,” Dad said, turning again to the window. “Seek to understand, not to be understood.”
Rosabel sank back onto her heels, sensing him escaping to wherever he went within his own mind. That was the answer? The way Uncle Henry and Aunt Claire had made their marriage not only last, but thrive?
“Seek to understand,” she repeated, wondering how that might apply to her situation. If only Uncle Henry was around. She had no idea things had a rocky start between him and Aunt Claire. They’d been the embarrassing couple who could always be seen holding hands and kissing or pinching one another in inappropriate places when they thought no one was looking. They’d still had that adoring, romantic, lovey glow in their eyes whenever they looked at one another, even when they were rolling past fifties into sixties.
They’d been married for at least thirty years before Uncle Henry had passed away, and their love had always been a wonder between them, like something they’d cherished and wanted to express no matter where they were. They’d even ended every phone call with a “love you, bye,” spoken in one breath the way others said only “bye.”
Rosabel had adored their relationship. She’d longed for a connection like they had, noticing the way Henry listened so intently to her, the way they fit together like a perfectly coordinated outfit—not matching, but complementing each other’s strengths.
She remembered staying overnight at their home for her cousin’s birthday party. Uncle Henry and Aunt Claire had served Melissa’s cake and ice cream and sang to her in embarrassing but adorable high-pitched voices as she’d opened presents with her friends. Then, while serving ice cream, Uncle Henry had said something that earned him a sharp look from Aunt Claire. Rosabel would have sworn he was about to get swatted with the serving spoon in her hand, but instead, she set it down and left the room.
“Whoops,” Uncle Henry had muttered. “Carry on, Mels,” he’d told his daughter, planting a kiss on top of her head. “I’ve got maintenance duty.”
“Maintenance duty?” one of the girls had asked.
Melissa had rolled her eyes. “That’s code for ‘he screwed up and needs to go apologize.’”
The girls had all laughed. “Your parents are so adorable,” another girl had said.
“Are you kidding? I’d be mortified if my parents had as much PDA as yours do,” said another girl.
Melissa’s cheeks had turned pink, but just as Rosabel was about to speak up, Melissa had defended them. “They love each other,” she’d said. “I hope I can find someone like my dad someday.”
The girls had chittered at this, commenting on the concept’s grossness, but Melissa had stood her ground. “I’m serious. They don’t always get along or have things easy all the time, but he’s always the first to apologize.”
“He’s awesome,” Rosabel had added, hoping to sway the girls’ opinions.
Her reassurance had worked. Their tunes had shifted from critical to impressed. Several said they wanted someone like that too.
The memory smashed into Rosabel, colliding with the words Dad had spoken. In that moment, Henry hadn’t disregarded whatever had bothered Aunt Claire or told her to accept it or let the comment go. He’d gone to do “maintenance.” She didn’t know what conversation had followed for them, but they’d later entered the room hand in hand, smiling.
He’d sought understanding rather than expecting her to understand him. Something told Rosabel that Aunt Claire had done the same.
Fingers shaking, Rosabel skimmed through the contacts on her phone and tapped Melissa’s name. Melissa was a violinist who’d helped email out the music Rosabel and their other cousins had played at their grandma’s funeral a few years ago. Though she and Melissa stayed connected on social media, Rosabel hadn’t called her directly in … she didn’t know how long.
“Hello?” Melissa answered with curiosity in her voice.
“Hey, Mels,” Rosabel said.
The two cousins passed through several minutes of jovial catching-up when Melissa asked Rosabel what was up.
“I’m calling about your parents, actually. My dad had a rare moment of clarity just now, and he mentioned how your parents had a rocky start to their relationship. Is that true?”
Melissa laughed. “They couldn’t stand each other! They met on a double date—with other people. Dad detested Mom’s laugh and how obnoxious she was while she flirted with her date. Later, he realized it was just because he’d been jealous. She was a fox.”
“When did they start dating each other?” Rosabel asked.
“Not long after that, Dad plucked up the courage to ask her out directly. Mom refused to have anything to do with him because of some things he’d said to her—I don’t even know what they were. But I guess he repented of his evil ways and she gave him a chance. And here I am.” Melissa laughed before her merriment faded. “I really wish he was still here.”
“I know,” Rosabel said, her heart pounding the more Melissa had elaborated. “I’m sorry he’s gone. My dad has been mentioning him a lot lately.”
“He’s in our hearts,” Melissa said.
“Yeah, he is.” Rosabel and Melissa exchanged a few more tidbits of conversation before wishing each other well and ending the call.
Rosabel fairly soared from her cousin’s confirmation. Frantic and giddy, she read through Duncan’s email once more. With the way she’d ignored his calls and texts, Duncan could have given up. But he was on maintenance duty, trying to repair a breach he clearly wanted to fix.
He was seeking to understand how she felt. Couldn’t she do the same?
She’d gotten a firsthand look at his family dynamic. They were power-focused. Success was top priority, and for Duncan to bring a girlfriend he’d previously introduced as his assistant to his grandmother’s prestigious birthday party must have been a shock to their expectations for him. Undoubtedly, they wanted him to find a woman who was a lot like his mother—driven and determined to make her mark in the business world.
Duncan had known that would happen. He had to have—that was why he’d been acting so strangely in the car before the party. Going against his family’s wishes had to have been new territory for him. He’d changed so much at Rosabel’s request. He’d been willing to confront that too. For her.
“He meant it,” she said to Dad, rising to her feet. The awareness shot through her like a firework. He’d meant when he told her he loved her. A smile stretched onto her face. She bent down to hug her father and kiss him on the cheek. “He loves me, Daddy.”
Dad smiled at her, patting her on the cheek. �
��Henry?”
“No,” she said with a grin. “It’s Rosie. Your Rosie, and Duncan’s Rosie, Daddy. I love Duncan Hawthorne. Do you remember my boss? The horrible, mean, jerk-face boss I used to complain to you about? I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I love him.”
She pirouetted across the rest of his room, wishing there was someone else there. She was ready to shout the news from every rooftop and balcony, to toss the expression over every cubicle in Duncan’s office, to call whoever ran the jumbotron in Times Square and have them blare it in the biggest scrolling letters they possibly could so the whole world knew.
Rosabel loves Duncan.
He meant so much to her. She’d love him in the rain and on a train and everywhere else he wanted to take her—even to his grandmother’s ninety-sixth birthday, should the woman make it another year.
“I have to tell him,” she said, kneeling in front of her dad once more. “I’ll be back, okay?”
Dad’s gaze made its slow trek to her face. He smiled. She wasn’t sure he understood, but he smiled.
She planted another kiss on his cheek. “I’ll send Sarah up, okay?”
The minute Sarah arrived, Rosabel smushed her feet into her shoes, slipped into her jacket, and bolted out the door.
18
Duncan stared at the phone in his hand. He’d been monitoring the device more than usual since sending Rosabel that email, checking practically every thirty seconds for her reply. She had to reply. He’d bared his soul in that email, and if she ignored that … well, he supposed he’d have to find some other way to get to her.
When his phone rang, it took a nanosecond to check the screen for Rosabel’s name. However, Mother’s name dominated the screen.
He braced himself for censure. He hadn’t spoken with her or Grandmother since the botched birthday party, since they’d humiliated him and Rosabel so thoroughly and basically ruined his chance with the woman he loved by being their normal—horrible—selves. Duncan had never realized just how bad they were, not until the fallout with Rosabel. So much for trying to make up for the last argument they’d had.
Many of the conversations he’d had with Rosabel played through his mind. She’d been right about him, about his beastliness. He was ready to put the past behind him—including his past behavior. Rosabel believed he could change, and he determined to do just that. Maybe he could help his family do the same.
“Hello, Mother,” he said, determined to be civil. Though Rosabel wasn’t around, he’d made her a promise. Since she’d pointed it out to him, he’d been more aware of his tone of voice when speaking with people. He was determined to be the man she wanted him to be.
“Grandmother passed away this morning.”
Duncan’s vision blurred. He wasn’t sure he heard her correctly. “What?”
His mom’s voice betrayed a hint of emotion. “She passed in her sleep. It was peaceful, Duncan. She’s back home with God.”
An ache bloomed in his chest. Duncan gripped the edge of his desk as the computer screen, the pile of papers, and the spider plant began to blur. A sudden coldness hit him to the core.
He’d known her passing would happen; she wasn’t exactly young. But knowing that fact and experiencing its reality were two very different things.
He’d been hoping to make things right, and now it was too late.
Now she’d never know how sorry he was, how he wished things were different. How he wished he hadn’t lost his temper that day.
Soreness overtook his throat. He wanted to speak, but he wasn’t sure he could manage it. Grandmother. From her snide remark back at her birthday party weeks ago, she’d still blamed him for his grandfather’s heart attack.
“The funeral is Friday,” Mother said. “Can we expect you?”
“Yes,” Duncan said without hesitation.
“And … any guests?” His mom’s tone shifted. Did that mean she felt bad about basically attacking Rosabel? He doubted it.
“If you mean Rosabel, no, she won’t be coming.”
Silence pulsed through the phone. “All right,” she answered with reticence. “I’ll see you Friday.”
His world spun and slowed all at once. Duncan pushed away from his desk, moving robotically out the office door, down the elevator, and into his Corvette. He needed some time to process the news. He needed time alone.
Once he was in his room, the despair became too much. Duncan sank to his knees, allowed his expression to slacken, and gave in to the tears threatening to pour down his cheeks.
“Please, God,” he prayed in a way he hadn’t done in so long. “Please let her know how sorry I am.”
Breath coming short, Duncan knelt beside his bed and cried.
* * *
Duncan packed his suitcase and called Charity at the office. A new assistant had been hired, and he needed her to schedule some travel plans.
Though he wanted to include Rosabel—he even debated jokingly telling her to schedule his flight instead—something told him not only would she not appreciate the joke, but she would continue to ignore his calls.
She’d said she never wanted to see him again. She’d made it clear enough by all his other ignored attempts at contact. He’d hoped his heartfelt email might be enough, but she’d probably ignored that too.
So, he flew without her. He went to his lake house without her.
* * *
Rosabel smoothed a hand over her stomach. She should have worn something other than her pink hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. Being in Duncan’s office without working there any longer would be weird enough. Then again, that was just it. She didn’t work there anymore. Why should she show up in a suit and heels?
With a steadying breath, she opened the office’s glass door. The sound of phones ringing, the smell of paper and perfume—Gale’s, probably—and the sight of the boxy cubicles making false attempts at separation held a tint of familiarity. But she experienced it with a newfound detachment.
It was refreshing.
Heads popped up over and around cubicles. Familiar faces broke into smiles.
“Hey, Rosabel,” Evan said, passing with a file in hand.
Rosabel waved to him and to others in the office, friends she’d had, people she hadn’t spoken to in weeks. Questions dangled in their eyes the way they always did. They wanted to know why she’d quit. They wanted to know if there really had been something between her and Duncan.
If they only knew how much.
Rosabel approached Charity at the reception desk and tried to pretend every eye wasn’t on her. Charity’s hair was pulled back into a bun, emphasizing her high cheekbones.
“Hey, Charity, is Duncan here?”
Charity tilted in and lowered her voice. “Did you really quit? Or did he fire you? We’ve got a bet going on, and I’m so wanting to win.”
“I quit,” Rosabel said.
Charity pumped her fist in victory, and then turned to address the others. “I was so right,” she announced. The office was much more casual when Duncan wasn’t around. It always had been. The memory delivered a fond smile to Rosabel’s lips.
“Where is he?” Rosabel asked.
Charity got a mischievous gleam in her eyes and pretended to straighten the stack of sticky notes on her counter beside a cup of pens taped to plastic flowers. “Why do you want to know? I thought you didn’t work here anymore.”
“I need to talk to him.”
“Oh. She needs to talk to Duncan,” Charity announced to the curious onlookers. Duncan had been right to call them cubicle giraffes.
Rosabel rolled her eyes. Enough was enough. “Look,” she said, resting a hand on her hip and speaking loud enough to address the room. “I know you’ve all thought Duncan and I were secretly dating while I was here, but we weren’t. At least, not at the time.”
“But you are now?” Evan slid his chair away from his desk for a better look.
“I—” Rosabel hesitated. “I don’t know. That’s why I need to find him.”
> “I knew it!” Charity shouted. Several others whooped and grins were shared throughout the room. Rosabel couldn’t help but return them.
The commotion also drew an unfamiliar face from within Duncan’s office: a timid middle-aged woman with bobbed brown hair. She wore a button-up floral shirt and a floor-length skirt. Anyone else might have inquired what was going on. Duncan would have, for sure, but this woman scurried into Rosabel’s old office and closed the door.
“How?” Charity asked. “When? I want to know everything.”
“I’m sure you do,” Rosabel said, “but I really do need to find him first. Anyone know where he is?”
“Ask the new you,” Evan said, directing her to Rosabel’s old office. “Last I heard, she booked him a flight.”
That explained why she hadn’t recognized the woman. Rosabel said a few words of thanks, commented on the cuteness of Charity’s nails, and then headed to the new assistant’s office and knocked.
The place hadn’t changed much. Desk, rug, potted plants, though several mugshots of kids now littered the desk.
The woman lifted her chin. “Can I help you?” Her upper lip quirked more to one side than the other when she spoke.
“I need to know where to find Duncan.”
“Is he expecting to hear from you?”
“Not exactly.”
Self-righteously, the woman sniffed. “What’s the nature of your visit?”
Rosabel had never been this exacting. At least this woman was doing her best to protect him. Or keep her job. She wasn’t sure which.
She cut to the point. “Is he in Arkansas?”
The widened eyes gave it away.
Rosabel persisted. “Did he go to Eureka Springs?”
“I—how did you know that?”
“This is my old office. Oh, and just a word of warning, he likes his coffee with two creams. I promise, it’ll win you big points with him.”
The woman’s demeanor instantly melted. She soaked Rosabel’s advice in with concentration and pulled out her notepad. “Got it. Any other tips?”
Rosabel And The Billionaire Beast (Billionaire Bachelor Mountain Cove Book 6) Page 15
