by Sabre, Mason
“I’m really sorry about today. Would you like to go out to dinner?” No. Too forward. Too stupid. He deleted it.
“William?”
“Yes?” he said, realising she had been talking.
“Is everything okay, you’re all … quiet.”
“No. No I’m okay. Sorry. Tell me again what you were saying.”
“It’s okay.” And there it was, that sad tone again, caused by him. Maybe William’s mother was right. He just made people miserable all the time.
“I need to go, Rosie. Is that okay?” Suddenly his head hurt, his mind raced. He sank down to his knees on his bedroom floor, William fighting for space in his head.
“William, is everything okay?”
“Yes,” he whispered. “Sorry. I’ll call you. I promise. Take care my sweet Rosie.”
Josh clicked close on the phone and ended the call. The lump in his throat swelled, pushing him. Stupid William.
“Sorry,” he said in text to her. Not from William, but from Josh.
Chapter Eighteen
Rosie
Rosie hung up only to have her heart jolt at the vibration of the phone, signaling a text. “Josh,” she whispered, sliding her finger over his name. Sorry.
Sorry? Fear and dread ran mean circles around her hope, shoving it and poking it. Her fingers shook as she typed. What for? She stared at the two words, realizing they needed to be right. But what was right? What for seemed safe enough.
I want to see you.
A frail cry shot from her as she fought to see through her tears. I want to see you too. When?
I’ll let you know soon.
Okay.
Soon. Soon could mean tomorrow. Or next week. Before she could ratchet up the negative assumptions her phone rang. She hit the green button. “Hey,” she said, smiling.
“Rosie?”
A gasp of shock escaped her and she glanced down at the screen. Fuck-fuck-fuck. “Mom?”
“You were expecting me?” she asked, sounding highly doubtful.
“No, I … I was expecting somebody else, actually.”
“Right,” she said, like she’d lied to her. An anger Rosie hadn’t felt in a while twisted her guts. What did she even want? “Well, I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to know that I’m coming to visit you.”
“What?”
“What?” her mom shot back, offended. “What do you mean, what? Is that how you show your gratitude when I say I’m going to go visit you in that Godforsaken land?”
Rosie felt like a trapped bird in a cage, her mouth stuck open in shock and confusion. “Why?” she finally blurted, rubbing at the sudden migraine stabbing her brow.
“Because I’m your mother,” she stressed with disgust. “What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing is wrong with me,” Rosie said. “You don’t need to come.”
“I know I don’t need to come, I’m coming because I want to.”
“Why would you want to come?” Rosie tried to keep the shrill from her tone. “It’s going to be nasty and cold here very soon.” Not really, it was just about to be gorgeous.
“And why don’t you want me to come? I’m sure you’re dying to show me how great you’re doing over there all by yourself?”
Rosie froze in her tracks, her gaze narrowing at that. “You haven’t cared before Mom, why start now?” And she still didn’t care. She was sure of that much.
Her mother gave a derisive snort. “Stop being so dramatic. I’m scheduled to arrive in three days ish.”
“Three days!? And where are you staying?”
“With you, of course.” Like Rosie was being obtuse.
“Me?”
“What’s wrong, Rosie?”
Rosie’s jaw clamped tight at hearing the derision in her tone. Her mother knew she was just coming to snoop out her failures and Rosie hated that. But like hell would she ever admit defeat. Her mother would never hear Rosie admit she was right about how hard it would be. She already thought she was some Wall Street prophetess.
“I was sure you’d be ready for some company.”
“I have friends,” Rosie assured in sharp defense, back to pacing.
“Do you?”
“A boyfriend. Yes,” she said, nodding and smiling while imagining her mom’s shock.
“A boyfriend,” she dragged, making sure to let her disbelief through loud and clear.
Rosie hated how she knew every damn thing about her past, especially her talent for attracting all the wrong kinds of dickheads. “Yes, a very nice Englishman, in fact. Successful. He’s a doctor.”
“Right.”
Fury shot through Rosie. She’d just called her a liar. “His name is Josh,” Rosie went on. “and … and we share a lovely home.”
“You’re shacked up with an Englishman?” she said, sounding disgusted.
“I’m not shacked up. We’re friends. Roommates, Mother. I’m not a slut like Lacey. I like to date my boyfriends long enough to know they’re not empty headed … gym, rat jocks, riding on daddy’s coattails.”
“What do you have against inheriting greatness? And it’s not a crime to be handsome, successful, and healthy, Rosie.”
“I happen to want a man who can think for himself and isn’t daddy’s robot.”
“Derrick is nobody’s robot, sweetheart. He’s done quite nicely. His father made him the Vice President of the company just last month.” The soft words were spike needles in her eyeballs. “I don’t know why you insist on going after the empty-headed, empty bank account, empty future bums.”
“You don’t need to come here,” Rosie decided, her right hand up in firm adamancy.
“But I do. I have papers for you to sign.”
Rosie froze. “What do you mean?”
Her mom gave a long sigh of defeat, laced with boredom. “I’m giving you your inheritance. Unless you don’t want it.”
Rosie’s mouth hung open in astonishment.
“That’s after I see you actually are making it there. I told your father that we will not contribute to poverty.”
Shit. Shit shit. “There is no poverty here.”
“I’ll see soon enough.”
“Yes you will. Come right on down,” Rosie challenged, unable to admit defeat even though she had already lost. She just couldn’t bring herself to admit it. Not in that second.
“England is technically up, Rosie, but yes, I am coming.”
“Right.” Smartass. “Come on up, come on down, come on sideways.”
“My plane will land at Manchester. You do have decent transportation to pick us up?”
“Us?” Her heart raced at who she might mean. “Of course I have decent transportation.”
“Fantastic. Lacey and I will be there for three days. I can’t wait to see just what you’ve been up to.”
Lacey? Her sister? God why her? Why not anybody but Miss Fuck-America? Rosie realized what this was all about now. Mom and her precious favorite weren’t coming to have her sign; they were coming to prove to dad that Rosie still wasn’t ready for the burden of financial relief. “I can’t wait too, Mom. Call me before you board the plane?”
“Will do,” she cooed.
What if she was going to give her the inheritance? God, Rosie was royally screwed when they got here and saw her shitty life, shitty house, shitty car, and shitty looks. Shitty was her style and she wore it with a shitty attitude. “Can’t wait to see both of you.”
“Of course you can’t, Rosie,” she said, dripping with pity now.
Rosie nodded with her eyes closed. “I have to go; Josh is calling in.”
“I don’t hear anything.”
“Bye Mom.” Rosie hung up and stared at the phone, feeling her stomach pushing into her chest until she had to fight for air. “Oh God,” she finally croaked, pressing the heel of her hand to her throbbing forehead.
Rosie jumped when her phone buzzed. She looked down and saw Josh had texted.
Will you meet me?
Her fingers f
lew over the keypad. Sure. When? Where?
Do you know where the bridge at Guy’s Court?
Rosie thought. I can google map it.
He texted her the simple directions, and she realized she knew exactly where it was. I know that place, yes.
See you in thirty? I’ll park on the median at the north side of the bridge. Where the pavilion is.
Okay. I’ll see you soon.
Rosie hurried to her car, not even taking the time to freshen up. She paused, looking down at the pink cotton sundress then continued out. It was sleep wear to her but technically it counted as day wear. She drove toward the bridge like Cinderella after the clock had struck midnight and all the magical things had returned to shitty. But the prince had called and said come meet me. Of course, she jumped right into her shitty pumpkin of a car, not caring she no longer looked like a princess or ever did. She was too busy being happy he called, too busy worried about why he was sorry and why he needed to see her right then.
Under normal conditions, she’d spend the minutes getting there destroying all hope. But not this time. This time she was thinking of things like her mother and sister coming. Coming to meet her boyfriend Josh and see the lovely home they shared. Meet the handsome, successful doctor. Oh he was handsome, and he did certainly have a lovely home. Who was to say he wasn’t a doctor and he’d forgot to mention it?
Oh God, what had she done?
Chapter Nineteen
Josh
On his bed, Josh held one phone—the one that connected him to Rosie. The one where she had shown him the way—where he got to listen to her voice, was William’s phone. The one where he texted her. The one where just now, for reasons he didn’t even know, he had asked her to meet him … and on the bridge. He pressed the phones together between praying hands and allowed himself to sit for just a moment. What had he done?
The phones banged against each other–William and Josh banging heads and meeting somewhere in the middle of him. Josh’s phone rang, startling Josh enough that he nearly lost both phones in one go. He turned it over. Wiltshire House flashed across the screen. It vibrated in his hand, the name scrolling across the top. Josh’s defiance spread along his back. He wasn’t going to answer anymore. That time was over.
Throwing William’s phone on the bed without cancelling the call, Josh got up and changed his top for one with longer sleeves—darker. So that she couldn’t see the fresh wounds there. William’s marks … marks of a fucking idiot … marks of another person.
He dashed to the bathroom, heart thumping inside his chest, and splashed water on his face–washing away the William of his mind. It had been a brief moment of weakness. Message her sorry and then suddenly the echo of her voice in his mind had tugged inside his chest and he had wanted to see her … needed to see her. He needed to explain so many things to her, but where did he start?
The song Engal blasted out from his room, echoing through the empty house, making Josh’s heart lurch at the sound of it. He gripped the edge of the sink, fighting with himself not to give in. Not to answer her. Maria … she had destroyed enough. She belonged in the past now; like William did.
The phone was still ringing out when Josh raced down the stairs, forcing himself away from it. This was one pain he could push away, a niggle inside him that he could leave. Face your fears didn’t they say?
What if she has hurt herself, William. Then how will you feel?
No. The voice inside could shut the hell up. “Shut up,” he said clutching his head at the bottom of the stairs. He caught sight of the closed door. His mother in there, pressing in on him. You’re a failure William. A failure. “It’s all your fault,” he spat. “Everything. But not this one. You’re not going to take anything from me ever again.”
He raced out of the house, door banging behind him. His bike was parked around the side, helmets already clipped to it. No one came out here. No one interesting anyway. This house … big, magnificent. About the only thing his mother had done right opening her legs to that bloke. She’d thought she could make some kind of pretty woman sequel out of it. Didn’t she ever realise she was just a pretty thing on their arms?
Josh jumped onto his bike and kicked it into action. Driving to Guy’s Court bridge by memory. Memory of that night … the night when all hell had kicked off and he just couldn’t take it anymore. That night when he had finally snapped. A beaten dog will always bite eventually. You just have to find the snapping point and Maria had done just that.
Josh parked his bike down one of the side roads. He wanted to walk to the bridge. He wanted to see Rosie before she saw him. But she was there already, dressed in a light pink summer dress with the straps, chewing on her thumb as she paced. She wore her hair in a twist at the back and probably thought she looked atrocious. But she was truly beautiful. The way she walked back and forth ... something was wrong. Something agitated her gait, the way she spun when she reached one side. She chunnered to herself. He couldn’t tell what she was saying.
You’re an idiot Josh. She’s going to tell you to take a hike.
Josh swallowed hard, stuffed his hands into his pockets and idled over to her. She abruptly stopped when she saw him, her face lighting up. Any nerves he felt about her telling him to get lost dissipated the moment the light shone in her eyes. He smiled back, elation surging inside him.
Don’t get too happy. She’ll leave.
Shut up William.
“Hey,” he said taking the five steps with ease to reach her.
“Hi,” she said back.
His brain went blank as he stared. “I’m an idiot. I’m sorry,” he said finally, feeling like that had to be the biggest reason he dragged her there.
She giggled oddly at him, scoffing with it and almost snorting. His own smile twitched on his lips as he observed her. Unsure if she was laughing at him, or something else. She clasped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she said.
“Is everything okay? You seem a little …”
“Bat-shit crazy?” she spat out, laughing again. Josh tensed unsure what to say to her. “Sorry. I … Shit.” She paced again, going to the side of the pavilion overlooking a small stream that broke off from the main river.
“Rosie?” he followed her, concerned. He tried to shake the feeling that she was going to tell him to take a hike. Just building herself up for it.
She spun, leaning against the railing. He liked her in dresses. She had dainty little feet, the kind that Josh imagined would have done ballet as a child. She wore tiny slip on shoes. Everything about her seemed to be placed just perfectly. “I’m sorry about earlier.” She swallowed. “Today I mean. I kind of just.” She took a breath. “I didn’t have a right to just flip out on you.” She looked away from him, almost bouncing where she stood. “I mess everything up.”
Josh stepped closer. “You don’t.”
“No,” she held out her hand to assure him. “I do. I came to your house with you today and I don’t … I thought. God, see even now I’m messing up? I don’t even know you and then I acted like a jealous girlfriend or something. Like weird stalker woman.”
“You mean you’re not a weird stalker woman?” he asked alarmed.
“No,” she shot out.
“God damn it.” He tossed his hands in frustration. ““I always find the wrong ones.”
“Josh. I …” her words cut off with confused panic it seemed.
“I’m kidding,” he hurried.
She pressed her hand to her chest. “Really?”
“You think I want someone who is a stalker?” She frowned at him, making him smile because the way her eyebrows knitted together made her even more attractive. “What’s wrong, Rosie?” He dared to take another step closer. With each one, the magnetism that existed between them grew stronger, calling his body to hers.
“I feel like an idiot,” she muttered.
“Because of now? I’m sorry. English humour.”
Shaking her head, she pushed herself from the railing and took a
few steps to look at a different part of the water below. “I mean today. I don’t even know you and I acted like some jealous girlfriend. I spoke out of turn. I wanted to say I was sorry.”
Josh crossed the distance between them, leaning himself on the railing next to her. “I feel like I’ve known you forever,” he said. “Is that weird? Like there’s just something.”
“Inside?”
He angled his head at her, nodding. “It wasn’t a girlfriend on the phone today or anything like that. It wasn’t a friend either. I didn’t mean to lie. Just.”
“It wasn’t?”
“You caught me off guard. Maria she is called. She thinks she has rights to me. She calls me sometimes like that. All upset and demanding I go to her.”
“Did you go?” Rosie tensed with her question.
“No,” he said.
“You hung up on me,” she whispered, biting her lip. “When I called.”
Josh turned and faced the water, looking down too. Here, it ran between rocks. “I thought it was her again. I didn’t even look at the phone.” He fixed her with his gaze, not taking his eyes from hers. He wanted to reach out and tuck the errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Something else is wrong. I can feel it.”
She went to look away from him, but he reached out, grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, not letting her.
“Tell me.”
Chapter Twenty
Rosie
Rosie’s air and brains oozed out at his soft touch. And his words. Ohhhh, his words, his accent, all of it reminded her of some moment in a romance book she’d read before. Mr. Darcy, maybe. Only cuter, she was sure. And real—real cute and asking her questions, important questions by the concern on his perfect brows.
She let out a light laugh at remembering her predicament. “I should just come right out and tell you,” she said, nodding.
“Yes, you should,” he agreed, his concern not budging.
She nodded, unable to tear her eyes from his. “I’m going to just jump. Jump and say it. I just need you to not be angry with me.”
