by Maggie Wells
“No, he didn’t do anything wrong, Mike.” Rosie smoothed a hand over her ponytail. If ever there was a time for her comfiest clothes and sloppy hair, she figured the precious few days after she threw away everything she thought she wanted were optimal. “It’s,” she hesitated. Her mind searched for the right word, but the only one she could find was the same word she’d used earlier. “Complicated.”
Mike huffed, his patience fraying around the edges. She felt bad for putting him in this position. He was used to being the middleman in the business, but he wasn’t used to squaring off against her. Guilt gnawed at her. There was no reason for Mike to be here at all. She was the one who didn’t catch on to reality until she and James had gone too far.
He shot her a helpless look. “Life is complicated.”
She shrugged. “Mine isn’t.” She swept and hand out. “My apartment, my career, my everything. I don’t have to ask anyone for anything. I am not obligated to anyone.”
“That’s a lonely way to live, Rosie.”
Sighing heavily she shook off his attempt at argument. “Mike, I appreciate all you guys have done for me—”
“Don’t go there, because you know what we have is a two-way street. If we hop on the gratitude train now, I think we’re going to figure out you carried a hell of a lot more of a load than we ever did.” He toyed with the handle on his coffee cup. “We tease you about the business being lost without you, but we’d all be lost without you in our lives.”
The thought of cutting all three of them from her life was equally appalling to Rosie. “I never said I wouldn’t be in your lives. I only said I wouldn’t be in your office.”
“But we need you there, too.”
“Someone else can do the job, Mike. Not like what I do is rocket science. As for the rest, now you have Georgie to help. Colm has Monica.” She waved a hand. “James will land on his feet. He always does.”
“I feel like you’re breaking up with all of us,” Mike complained.
Rosie laughed at his petulant tone. “As if I’d date you,” she teased. “I don’t remember seeing any flowers or candy. You certainly never brought me any baked goods from that fancy bakery you hang out at all the time.”
“That’s because all you’d want is a bag of dicks to chomp on. I don’t encourage violent behavior.” A laugh burst out of her and he grinned. “I hear you and Georgie on the phone. I know what you talk about.”
“You think you know what we talk about.” Rosie reached across the table and touched his arm. “I’ll always be your friend, Mike. I expect to be invited to the wedding and the birthday parties. I’ll even behave like a grownup when I see James.” She took a shaky breath. “I don’t… I’m not mad about anything,” she stammered, trying to articulate the tangled mess inside of her. “But I don’t think I should have to keep asking someone to love me.”
Mike’s expression softened. “No, you shouldn’t.”
“And that’s why I can’t be there. If I am, I will. I’ll keep asking until I forget that I am worthy of love all on my own.” She sighed. “I don’t want to leave you guys in the lurch, but I think we all know I’m never going to be able to move on as long as I’m sitting there waiting for something to happen.”
“But something did happen. Why do you want to move on? If he was a jerk, or if he hurt you, tell me and we’ll kick his ass.”
“No, nothing like that.”
“I mean, I know he acts like a jerk sometimes, but he’s not really,” Mike went on in a rush. “And if you want him, and he wants you, why are you giving up on him?”
“I thought you guys told him you didn’t want us getting together.”
“We did, but it didn’t take.” He paused, then shrugged. “Obviously.”
Rosie touched the tip of her tongue to her upper lip as she struggled to find the right words to explain, but none came to her. All she had was the messy, highly illogical truth. “I realized I don’t need the complications. My life is easy. Quiet. I’m not sure I can deal with chaos, and let’s face facts, James’s life is nothing but chaos.” She pinned him with a glare. “I think all the meddling you and Colm have done is sufficient proof of that.”
Mike couldn’t argue the point.
* * * *
Colm came next. Being the savvy tactician he was, he waited another full day before appearing at her door with Aiden in tow. While the boy squeezed her around the waist hard, Colm handed over more files and a pizza box with the smile of a man who knew he had her number. “The place has gone to hell in a handbasket.”
Rosie smirked as she disentangled herself from Aiden’s grubby grip. Leaning down, she placed a smacking kiss atop his head. The threat of girl cooties worked like a charm. Screaming as if she’d zapped him with a Taser, Aiden took off into the apartment at full speed, desperate to get away from any further affectionate assault.
“I bet all my color coding is blown all to hell.”
“Went out the door yesterday.” Colm followed her into the kitchen.
“I’ve been going through the help wanted on Greatlist and the papers, but I haven’t seen any ads for Trident,” she commented mildly.
Colm gawked at her for a moment. “You really think we can find a replacement for you on Greatlist?”
“People can find all sorts of great things on Greatlist,” she fired back.
“Let’s say our bar is set higher than your typical office assistant.” His gazed bored into her. “Aren’t you even going to ask what you want to ask?”
Fidgeting under his unrelenting gaze, Rosie made herself busy removing plates from the cabinet and opening the pizza box. “What do you think I want to ask?”
“He’s not doing good, Rosie.”
Colm’s blunt manner was usually a balm to her. She appreciated his straightforward approach to life, but today, when she’d had regrets, she wished the man possessed the slightest bit of finesse. But finesse was James’s forte, not Colm’s, and apparently James wasn’t doing well. The news shouldn’t have chased a thrill up her spine, but it did.
“Colm, please don’t,” she insisted, turning to look face him. “I know you mean well. I know Mike means well.” She laughed and flung out a hand. “I know James means well, but good intentions aren’t enough in this case.”
“What would be?”
Rosie shook her head, helpless to answer with anything but the truth. “A rewind button? I don’t know. All I know is I wanted him to want me all along, and now he says he does, and it isn’t good enough.” She drew a shaky breath. “Maybe I want someone who looked at me for the first time and thought, ‘Wow, I want to know her.’ Someone who doesn’t have to think about long and hard about the possibility of…me.”
She swallowed as Devin’s soft-spoken words returned to her. But Devin’s face wasn’t the one she saw when she conjured the memory. She saw James. All she saw was James.
Turning her back on Colm, she walked out her tiny galley kitchen, past the dining table where she and Mike had shared coffee, to the sofa where James spilled his guts. But she didn’t even glance in the direction of the bedroom. The place where she’d surrendered her body and soul to a man who didn’t deserve her. Too many memories there. She made herself sleep on the sofa for the last couple of nights. She might have to burn her bed, which was too bad. She loved her bed.
Standing at the windows overlooking the courtyard, she wrapped her arms around her stomach and hugged herself hard.
“Can we put Clarissa on?”
Aiden’s wheedling tone jerked her from her thoughts.
“Clarissa?” She stared blankly at him for a moment, then spotted the grimy doll dangling from his hand. There wasn’t a child under the age of eight who wasn’t mesmerized by the crown princess of the cartoon crowd. “Oh, yes, Clarissa.” She laughed softly as his meaning became clear. “Sure.” She nodded. “Go ahead.”
&
nbsp; Dutifully, Aiden brought her the remote controls for the television and DVD player. “I’m not supposed to push buttons.”
She felt Colm’s gaze following her as she made sure Aiden was settled with his favorite cartoon princess. He waited until she stepped away from the television, then started in on her again. “They’re going to be hurt, too,” he commented as she passed by on her way to the kitchen.
“Don’t even start with me,” she warned. “If you want to start guilting each other, I can outdo you any day of the week.”
Colm chuckled, taking the saucer holding a slice of pizza she had selected for Aiden. “I’m a desperate man.”
He delivered the slice to his son, then returned to her side. “We’re all desperate men,” he reiterated as if there had been no break in the conversation. “But you know that better than anyone. You know how much we’ve all struggled. And, yes, our lives generally are a mess.” He stated the last without equivocation, giving her proof he consulted with Mike prior to this visit. “I know you don’t like chaos, Rosie, but you love James. You love Jamie and Jeff. And you love the rest of us, too. Don’t you think we’re worth the effort?”
“You think that’s what I’m scared of? The kids?” she demanded. “I’m not scared of taking on the kids, Colm.”
“You should be,” he shot back. “If there’s any part of this you should be scared of, it’s the kids, because they are the wild cards here. Not me, or Mike, or even James. I watch Monica and Aiden struggle to find their footing every day. Every day, the two people I love most in this world dance around each other and feel each other out. Sometimes, I worry they won’t ever get comfortable, but I can’t simply stop loving either of them.”
“Monica is doing everything she can to fit into your lives.”
“I know she is.” He gave her a pointed look. “You’re already a part of Jamie and Jeff’s lives, which puts you ahead of the curve.”
“Yes, but she’s fitting into your lives,” she reiterated, emphasizing the word. “She has to change everything about hers to match yours.”
“I know she does.”
“Will love be enough?” Rosie asked, challenging him outright as she closed the lid on the pizza box a bit too forcefully.
“I hope so.”
What appetite the scent of sauce and cheese had stirred disintegrated. “Am I crazy to wish for something uncomplicated? To avoid ugly scenes like the one in the office? Is it wrong to want somebody to build a new life with? Because, no matter how much or how far ahead of the curve you think I might be, it’s an entirely different thing when we start talking about…” she trailed off.
“Becoming a family?” he finished for her. “I know.”
“I know you do.”
Colm offered her a wry smile, then reached past her to open the box and snatch a piece of pizza for himself. “My son has never lived with a woman in the house. I’ll admit I’m a bit out of practice myself. We are the blind leading the blind.”
Rosie watched him take a healthy bite of the slice as she processed the information. “Basically the same for James and the boys.”
Colm shook his head. “No, they have a mom, even though she’s not much of one. And they have James’s mom. At least they’ve had some sort of female influence. Mike’s kids had Laurel. For a while, anyway.” He took a deep breath. “My point is, if Aiden and I are willing to disrupt our lives for Monica, and she loves us enough to surrender her peace and quiet, I think we all owe it to each other to try our hardest.”
He looked away from her. “No, our future isn’t shiny and new. We’re both hauling a lot of baggage in with us. And, no, we’ll never have that moment of first becoming a family together.” He gave his head a rueful shake. “But maybe we can build something new with what we have.” He shrugged. “None of us envisioned this life for ourselves or for our kids, Rosie.”
His implacable tone made the fine hairs on her neck ripple. “I get that.”
“You were okay with everything about James until the time you got him,” he pointed out. “Totally understandable. The guy is a disaster. But he’s your disaster.”
“Is he?”
“Undeniably. Being scared is normal. Trust me, we all live lives of stifled terror every day. All parents do.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “And see? You’re already getting in some good practice.”
He took another huge bite. Sauce dribbled onto his chin and a piece of pepperoni dangled from a string of cheese. Rosie snatched a paper towel from the roll and shoved it at him. Colm took it with a sheepish smile.
“Am I wrong to want something less…telenovela?” she asked stiffly.
“Not at all,” Colm replied. “I don’t think you’re going to be happy with anyone but James,” he mused, taking another massive bite of his pizza. “But go ahead. Try. Ten bucks says you’re bored within the first week.”
She cut him a sharp glare. “What makes you think I’ll be bored?”
He crumpled the towel in his hand, then rescued the pepperoni before the cheese tether gave out. “Because you live to straighten out messes.”
* * * *
Finally, they sent in the heavy artillery. Georgie appeared at her door, arms laden with pink bakery boxes. Monica trudged up the stairs right behind her with a big bottle of vodka. Shifting her gaze from one to the other, Rosie took in the offerings, nodded once, then motioned for them to come in. “Looks like we have everything we need.”
Georgie beamed. “Consider this intervention underway.”
“Intervention?” Rosie let the door swing shut behind them. “Seems backward. I needed an intervention when I was addicted to loving James.”
“And we gave you one.” Monica unscrewed the top on the vodka, then plunked the bottle down on the coffee table. “Glasses?”
Rosie nodded and gestured to the kitchen. “Cabinet beside the sink.”
Monica spun on her heel and took off for the kitchen. Georgie placed the stack of bakery boxes on the table and called after Monica. “You only need two. Or, if you bring a third, I’ll take water.”
Monica popped out a second later, three drinking glasses pinched between her long fingers. “Water?” she barked, her eyes narrowed to slits. “Why water?”
Georgie gave her a look that plainly said ‘Duh.’ “Because I’m not drinking.”
Monica rushed forward and slammed the glasses down on the table. “Are you not drinking because you’re already pregnant, or are you not drinking because you’re thinking of getting pregnant?”
The edginess in their friend’s tone caught them both off guard. Georgie took a step back, while Rosie placed a gentle hand on Monica’s arm. “Whoa, girl.”
Monica tried to shake them off with a laugh. “Only a question.”
Georgie’s eyes dropped to the ring flashing on Monica’s left hand. “I’d like to exercise my Fifth Amendment rights.”
Rosie split a gaze between the two women and shook her head. “I thought this was supposed to be an intervention, not an interrogation.”
Monica dismissed her commentary with a wave of her hand. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she muttered. “You’re right, you don’t need an intervention. You’re already totally over him.”
“I didn’t say I was over him,” Rosie answered primly. She pointed to the glasses, then the vodka bottle. “Are you planning to mix that with something?”
Monica shrugged as if the thought never occurred to her. “We can. What have you got?”
Biting her lip, Rosie mentally reviewed the rapidly dwindling contents of her fridge. Sooner or later, she’d have to venture out of her cocoon. “I think I might have some orange juice. Let me go see what I can find.”
Disappearing into the kitchen, Rosie opened the doors to both the fridge and the freezer and buried her head inside. Her mind raced. How had these two women moved so fast? Monica was engaged to
Colm. Georgie possibly pregnant? Trying to get pregnant? Everything was moving at warp speed, and she didn’t know what to do.
But a stiff drink and a pile of cookies seemed like a good place to start.
Rosie retrieved a pitcher with a couple inches of orange juice from the fridge, then eyed the freezer door. She smiled when she saw a can of frozen orange juice concentrate as well as a lemonade.
“Jackpot!” she cried as she made her way to the living room.
Georgie sat on the edge of the couch, flipping open the lids of bakery boxes.
Monica stood next to her, watching her friend with a mixture of wariness and apprehension. She didn’t rouse from her trance when Rosie reentered the room. “What did you find?”
“I have orange juice, and there’s more in the freezer. I also have frozen lemonade.”
Monica nodded absently and dragged her gaze away from Georgie’s purple-streaked head. “Juice will work.”
Rosie placed a bottle of water beside one of the glasses, then took a seat on the other side of Georgie. The order wasn’t the same, but the coziness reminded her of the girls’ night they’d had at Monica’s. “What do you have there?” She peered into the boxes.
“Possibly a bun in the oven,” Georgie answered in hushed tones. “But I don’t know for sure yet. I’m scared to take the test,” she admitted, darting a meaningful glance at her purse.
The three of them sat quietly while Monica mixed drinks and poured water. The minute they each had a glass, Monica held hers high, looked Rosie directly in the eye. “Here’s to getting what you want.”
They clinked glasses, took a sip, and lapsed into silence. Out of the corner of her eye, Rosie saw Georgie set her glass on the end table and start wringing her hands together.
Turning to her friend, she asked, “Do you want to be pregnant?”
Georgie cast them a wary glance and nodded mutely.
Monica gave a grimace of a smile, saluted her with her glass, and took healthy swig. “More power to you.”
Rosie ignored the other woman’s sarcasm in favor of covering Georgie’s hand with hers. “The bathroom’s right through there.” She pointed to the hall. “Go. We’ll wait with you.”
