by Maggie Wells
She watched until Georgie disappeared into the bathroom before turning to Monica. “Is everything okay?”
Monica nodded. “Everything’s fine.”
“You seem,” she searched for the correct word to use, “put out?”
This time, Monica’s smile was wry and self-deprecating. “Maybe, but not because I want to be pregnant.”
Rosie eyed her curiously. “Then why?”
“Self-preservation, maybe?”
“Seriously? How so?”
“I get uncomfortable when people start talking about being pregnant.” She hesitated for a second, then plunged ahead in a rush. “I don’t want to have a baby,” she confessed.
“No one said you have to.”
Monica scoffed. “Oh, please, Rosie, everyone says we have to. The indoctrination starts with the first baby doll and goes on from there. And maybe I am unnatural, but I’ve never felt any burning need to be a mommy.”
Rosie looked pointedly at the ring on Monica’s finger. “Have you talked to Colm about this? What does he say?”
“Oh,” Monica blurted, then stared down at the ring as if she had no idea how the sparkling diamond appeared there. “Yeah. I mean, I’m marrying him, right? And he has a kid. We’ve talked about kids, and he says he’s okay with not having more…”
“But you don’t believe him?” Rosie prompted.
“More like I’m not sure if he’s being totally honest with himself. If ever there was a man meant to be a father, it’s Colm Cleary.”
“And he is a father. You wouldn’t be denying him anything.”
Monica gave her a wobbly smile. “But what if he changes his mind and I don’t?”
“Don’t borrow trouble,” Rosie said, whipping out one of her mother’s favorites. “You’re adults. You’ve had the conversation, and you were honest. That’s all you can do.”
“And I do want to be Aiden’s mom,” Monica assured her. “I mean I’ve never had the urge to get pregnant and birth a baby. I don’t hate children. I love Aiden. I love my nieces, and I’m happy to be in their lives. That’s enough for me.”
“Then you have all you need.”
Monica frowned. “You would think, right? But I can’t tell you how many people have asked me if I’m going to have a baby since this ring went on my finger.”
Rosie grimaced. “People need to mind their own damn business.”
Monica laughed out loud. “If people minded their own business, we wouldn’t be here right now. We wouldn’t even be friends right now. Wishes can be a double-edged sword.”
The bathroom door opened and Georgie came out looking pale and anxious. Monica tilted her head to the side. “Shy bladder?”
The pointed question startled a laugh out of Georgie. “No. I managed to pee on the stick. Thanks for asking.”
“Now we wait.” Rosie patted the sofa next to her in invitation. “And we all cross our fingers.”
Georgie sat down, tucked her violet hair behind her ear, and graced Rosie with a sheepish smile. “We’re supposed to be here talking about you and James.”
Monica jumped in. “There’s nothing to talk about. She got what she wanted and now she’s scared. Happens to all of us.”
“Thank you for dismissing my feelings.”
“She is kind of right,” Georgie said quietly. “There’s nothing more terrifying than getting what you want. Once you do, you have to decide whether you can actually handle what you’ve been wishing for.”
“I don’t know if it’s that simple,” Rosie insisted.
Monica pursed her lips. “I think it is.”
Rosie turned to look at her, but the surge of incredulity inside her crested and broke. “Really?”
She shrugged. “All I wanted was Colm. I got him. And everything that comes with him. It’s on me to figure out if I’m woman enough to handle the whole package.”
Georgie nodded. “I’ve always wanted to have a baby. Ever since I was a little girl.”
“Brainwashed,” Monica sang sotto voce, then took a sip of her drink.
“What?” Georgie demanded.
“Never mind.” Rosie cut off the line of discussion. “We can type out our feminist manifesto later.”
“And don’t forget, all you ever wanted was James.”
Monica stated the fact simply, but it wasn’t simple. “Been hard to forget. People have been reminding me all week.”
Monica gave a soft snort. “And now you can have him, but he’s not all wrapped up in the pretty package you want, so you’re ready to toss your dream guy away.”
Rosie glowered at her, convinced Monica was being intentionally obtuse. “It’s not like that.”
Monica raised perfectly shaped brows. “You don’t want to have to ask to be loved. You want to be someone’s first choice.” Each word she spoke came out sharply barbed. “You want something fresh and clean and not out of a telenovela.”
Rosie’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. Everything she’d said to Mike and Colm was now being used against her. “Wow. Did those guys wear recording devices or something?”
“They’re worried about you. We all are,” Georgie interjected.
Because she was a good friend, unlike the Benedict Arnolds who’d been darkening her doorstep all week, Rosie pretended she didn’t notice Georgie sneaking glances at her phone.
“But James won’t be pushing your buzzer anytime soon, if that’s what you’re hoping for,” Monica continued, redirecting Rosie to the topic at hand.
“How do you know?” she asked.
“Because we asked him when he was planning to grovel, and he told us he wasn’t,” Georgie explained.
Monica took a sip of her drink and shook her head pityingly. “He thinks you’re right. He says his life is too much of a train wreck, and you’d be better off with someone like Devin.”
“But I don’t love Devin.”
The rebuttal popped out unbidden. Monica and Georgie didn’t even bother trying to hide their ‘gotcha’ glance. “Exactly,” they answered in unison.
Annoyed, Rosie turned on Georgie. “Don’t you have a test to check or something?”
Georgie paled, then nodded as she checked the timer on her phone again. “Thirty seconds.” She stood and pulled Rosie along with her. Extending her free hand to Monica, she asked, “Come with me?”
Monica placed her glass on the table with a thunk. “Yes. Okay.” She stood, too, then grabbed Rosie’s elbow to slow her roll. “But if the test is positive, you have to go talk to James.”
Rosie rounded on her. “What?”
When she glanced at Georgie for help, her friend only nodded and shrugged. “She’s right. No point in settling for two out of three. We should all get what we want.”
Her phone chimed an alert. Georgie aimed a shaky smile at them. “That should be the first line in our manifesto, by the way.”
Monica squeezed Rosie’s arm. “Damn straight. We should all get what we want.”
Chapter 16
Rosie looked around as she climbed the steps to James’s front door. Damn Georgie and her stupid stick with the big blue plus sign. She wasn’t sure she was ready for this, but she’d given her word, and here she was. The small porch held few homey or welcoming touches, as would be expected from a bachelor’s house. But there was a welcome mat. One with a cartoon Martian with the words “Wipe your feet, earthling!” emblazoned across it. A collection of assorted balls were piled in a corner.
Five long days had passed since she left the Trident Security offices in a huff. The previous day had been her first without any visitors. She’d seen an advertisement for her job posted on Greatlist that morning.
For the rest of the world, it was a typical Saturday afternoon, but for her, this was D day. People were going about their weekend business as if she hadn’t turned her
entire life upside down. Like one of the boats moored at Monroe Harbor on a stormy summer day, she was buffeted by indecision. Unable to get a grip or make a break. As if she needed a merry band of meddlers to tell her how to live her life.
She didn’t.
All she needed was someone to keep her company. Someone willing to listen to her side of things. But, there was no one. Her mother hadn’t been able to get past her joy at hearing she and James had finally admitted their feelings for each other. Rosie didn’t have the heart to tell her the rest. She tried confiding in her sisters, but her complaints received a similar response to the ones she’d gotten from Monica and Georgie.
More than once, she’d accessed Devin’s contact information, but as much as she wanted to talk to someone, his was not the voice she ached to hear. She did call Charlie. They chatted for a few minutes, and eventually, he worked his way around to letting her know Georgie had filled him in on the entire scene. He gave her his condolences, but no company.
And as Georgie and Monica had predicted, James had not called.
And now, Rosie was standing on his porch on a cold, damp Saturday. She knew enough about her boss’s habits to know in good weather, they took the kids to the park and for pancakes on Saturday mornings. This blustery, wet morning couldn’t possibly be counted as good weather, but she’d waited until afternoon anyway. Testing herself. Daring herself not to chicken out.
She was preparing herself to face her demons. Three redheaded demons she loved even though she was terrified of what they might do to her.
She rang the bell and waited. Seconds later, the sound of running feet on hardwood alerted her to someone’s approach. She smiled and adjusted her gaze downward as the heavy door swung open and Jamie beamed at her, his cowlick standing like a rooster tail.
“Rosie!” he cried with such delight her heart felt near to bursting.
“Jamie!” she echoed with equal enthusiasm. Pitching her voice lower, she asked, “Are you supposed to be answering the door?”
“No, he’s not,” James’s voice boomed from beyond the foyer.
A shiver ran down Rosie spine, and she clenched her hands together as she waited for him to appear. He stepped out of the narrow hallway, a dishtowel clutched in his hand. Her breath caught in her throat. He was barefoot. The jeans he wore were old and stained, the T-shirt so faded, the Northwestern logo was barely legible. His hair looked like he hadn’t bothered with a comb that morning. The cowlick his sons inherited stood proud at the crown of his head, freed from the tousled style he used to disguise the carroty sprout.
He slowed to a stop inside the foyer. “Rosie.” He spoke with only a fraction of the enthusiasm his son had shown, but she couldn’t blame him for being wary. She was too. “What are you doing here?”
She twisted her fingers together, suddenly nervous about confronting him. But she had never been the kind of woman to shy away from a challenge, and she wouldn’t start now. “I was hoping we could talk.”
Jeff ran into the foyer and stood beside his father. “Rosie! Hi!” As always, the younger twin was slightly better groomed and definitely more reserved in his greeting than his brother, but happiness shone in his eyes when he looked at her. “What are you doing here?”
Rosie laughed. It was a legitimate question, but hearing it repeated stung a bit. She rarely came to James’s house. She’d slept with this man, but never went beyond his living room or kitchen. Usually, she saw the boys at assorted birthday parties, or when she collected them from their grandmother’s house. Standing there now, she realized she hadn’t stepped foot in James’s home for about two years.
Her heart squeezed as she recalled his attempts to throw a party for two-year-old twins. James had come a long way in his parenting skills since, Saturday afternoon dishevelment notwithstanding.
“I wanted to talk to your daddy,” she explained, “so I thought I would drop by.”
Her eyes met James’s and held. At last, he gave a nod. “You guys watch your movie.” He gestured to the living room.
“But—” Jamie protested only to be cut off by his younger brother.
“We want to see Rosie,” Jeff interjected at the same moment.
Rosie nodded toward the living room, too. “And I want to see you. I’ll come in when I’m done talking to your dad.”
Jamie looked at Jeff and shrugged. “Must be bidnesss,” he mumbled to Jeff as they shuffled back to their television show.
James eyed Rosie warily and crossed his arms over his chest. “Is it business? I didn’t think you worked for us anymore.”
“It’s personal,” Rosie clarified, not breaking his unwavering gaze. She lifted one shoulder, then let it fall. “Maybe some business, too.”
James waved to her and turned on his heel. “Come on. I’ll make us some coffee.”
Rosie stepped into the cluttered kitchen, and a sense of warmth flooded her. Crayon drawings covered the fridge. Dishes lay piled in the sink and stacked on the counter. A small mountain of laundry stood in front of a set of folding doors she assumed hid the washer and dryer. This was James’s home. The home where he and the boys made a life. He hadn’t had time to clean for company or dress to impress. This was how he lived, and it wasn’t always pretty.
In that moment, Rosie knew everything her friends had said was true. She was scared. James’s life was chaotic, but even if she didn’t know exactly what she was signing on for, this was exactly what she wanted.
“Sorry to barge in,” she began as she moved to the kitchen table and dropped into one of the seats. The apology died away when her hand landed in something sticky. Without thinking, she plucked a napkin from the stack at the center of the table and wiped the mystery goo from her hand. She then placed the napkin on the table to cover the offending spot before folding her hands again. One problem solved.
“Maybe we should get the business part of the way.” James tossed the towel over his shoulder and started filling a filter with coffee grounds. “If I need to call the other guys, we can get them over here.”
Straightening in her seat, Rosie squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I’d like to apply for my old job.”
James shoved the basket into the coffeemaker, then turned to give her an incredulous stare. “You want your job back?”
She nodded once. “Yes.”
He looked at her for what felt like an eternity ticking past. “Done. You’re hired.” He wiped his hands on the rumpled towel, then tossed it onto the counter. “Next.”
Rosie frowned at him. “Don’t you have other applicants to talk to? I saw the ad.”
He snorted a laugh as he yanked the carafe off its pedestal and carried the pot to the sink. “Other applicants? Come on, Rosie, let’s cut the BS and get to the bottom line. You want a raise?”
“No,” she answered stiffly. “My pay is adequate.”
James chuckled again. “Only you would think your pay is adequate.”
Rosie drummed her fingers on the tabletop, moved the salt and pepper shakers closer to the stack of napkins piled in the center, then asked the question that had been on her mind for the better part of the week. “Is Megan gone?”
James glanced at her from where he was pouring water into the coffee machine, puzzled. “Gone? What, yeah,” he added as if the answer should’ve been obvious.
Rosie lifted a single eyebrow and nodded to the disarray in the kitchen. “Are you missing her housekeeping skills?”
He laughed, but the sound was hollow to her ears. “No, I’m having a Saturday.” Turning away from the coffeemaker, he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “On Saturdays, we play. On Sundays, we do our chores and get ready for the week ahead.”
Rosie wasn’t exactly sure why, but a warm blush crept into her cheeks. “What are you guys playing today?”
James fixed her with a bland stare. “We�
��re playing lazy guys who watch too much Cineflix.”
Her smile blossomed slowly. “One of my favorite games, except I play the girl version,” she hastened to explain.
“I wonder how they differ,” James mused.
Rosie shrugged. “I think yours involves more underwear and cheese-flavored snacks, and ours requires yoga pants, wine, and a handful of Chrises.”
“Chrises?”
“Pine, Pratt, Evans, Hemsworth,” she listed.
“Walken,” James added with a smirk.
Rosie sighed. “Plummer.”
“Is he still alive?”
“Do not mock Captain von Trapp,” she warned.
James pushed away from the counter and stalked over to the table. He pulled out the chair opposite her and dropped into the seat, his legs splayed, his expression sober. “Is the business portion over, or is this water-cooler talk?” He lounged in the chair, his arm draped over the rail in a pose that appeared casual, but somehow also made him look ready to spring. “Is there anything else we need to cover? Fringe benefits?”
Rosie didn’t bother playing coy about the job thing. They both knew there was no way Colm or Mike would object to rehiring her. “Well, I think we need to discuss how this is going to work during business hours.”
“How what is going to work?” he asked, his voice deceptively mild.
“You and me.”
“Is there you and me? I got the distinct impression you weren’t interested anymore.” When she opened her mouth, he raised a hand to stop her. “Or, was it you are interested, but you wanted to keep all your other options open as well? I seem to remember you mentioning something about three guys.”
Rosie clamped her mouth shut, then dropped her gaze to her clasped hands. A warm wash of shame flowed through her. She’d never been the type to toy with people’s affections, but she couldn’t help herself with James. “You know that was hyperbole,” she answered stiffly.
“I know you said that to hurt me,” he countered. “Score.”
