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And now Rosie fucking Belmont has waltzed into the scene with her smart mouth and suspiciously watery eyes. And all I want to do is demand to know who hurt her so I can fix it.
All it took was one look—one heartbeat—and I was eighteen all over again.
Rosie reels backward as she takes that in, then she turns her baby blues on me and not-so-subtly whispers, “Wow. Congratulations on finally losing your virginity.”
“Rosalie, when have I ever said no to you?” And I just stand here, stunned. I need a ride home from this party. I want to be alone. I need a job. Because try as I might, no matter how big of a dick he’s been, I can’t come up with a single instance of Ford ever telling me anything other than okay.
I storm toward the desk but come up short when my eyes catch on what’s sitting on top. The book cover has a pattern of butterflies in a field of flowers. They dance along the tops of the blooms. The hard cover was shiny once, but it’s a little water-stained now. A little dirty in one corner. I place my hand on my chest, rubbing it in slow, firm circles as I stare back at my diary. The same one I threw out the window all those years ago. The steel clasp is broken, but the heart-shaped lock still clings to the two rings meant to hold it shut. But now, it might as well be wide open.
“No, I went there the day after you threw it and searched for it.” His head tilts as if he’s considering his next words with extra care. “It took me a few trips.”
I find myself smiling too. But I’m not watching the flames. I’m watching Cora. And when I glance up, Rosie’s eyes are also alight. Except she’s watching me.
“You’re different,” is all I come up with to say. He leans closer, bumping his shoulder against mine. “So are you.” “Probably a good thing, eh?” I tease, bumping him back. “Didn’t like me much when we were kids, if I remember correctly.” His lips lift in a smug smile, gaze still latched to the fire he built with his daughter. Then he turns and looks me dead in the eye. “You’re not remembering correctly, Rosie.”
Slowly, his hand comes up to grip my ponytail—just like he did the other night. But tonight, with one slow tug, he guides my head back so I’m forced to look at him. “Next time you ask me that, make sure you are.”
“That journal entry is fascinating, but all wrong. I was at home when you called that night. And I broke every speed limit to get to you.”
Because Rosie might think she knows what our secret is, but mine is that I loved sitting on that dock with her even back then.
I feel the rush of air before I hear the door click as it shuts. The small lock handle turning makes a soft clicking noise.
“I’ll let you two out when you quit bickering about dumb shit. Listening to you two is exhausting. You both like each other. Start acting like it.”
“I can’t remember the flavor. I was constantly applying that garbage,” she muses, fingers tracing again as a shiver races down my spine. I don’t even need to think about it. I know. I will never forget. “Watermelon.”
All I saw was Rosie back then. Still.
“Come here, I’ll show you. And you can listen to music on this whenever you want.” Cora looks shocked as she approaches. “You’d let me use it when you’re not here?” Ford shrugs. “Yeah, I mean, it will probably be yours one day. If you fuck it up, that’s on you.” He
Ford doesn’t realize he just told her he plans to be around for the rest of her life, but Cora heard it loud and clear.
I smirk and cross my arms before giving a casual shrug. “Seems like you’ve got a type.” Now his eyes are back on mine, and he’s not laughing anymore. My body warms as his eyes take a leisurely slide from my face down to my feet and all the way back up. “Yeah. I do,” he says.
But my mind? My mind is always on Rosie. And obsessing over what the hell she and Fuckboy are up to right now consumes me. It makes me something I don’t think I’ve ever been. It makes me jealous.
“Ford—” Rosie starts right as Ryan says, “Hey, man, not all of us—” “Go to bat for the woman we’re with?” I cut him off sharply, knowing he did nothing in the wake of her being assaulted at her workplace. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
“I genuinely don’t give a fuck about his day. My dick is definitely bigger. And I’m not concerned with my likability. I don’t care about him. But I do care about you.”
“No, Rosie. But I’m not the type of man who will let that stop me.”
And I just shake my head at her, tightening my grip and shifting my hand over so I can brush a thumb over her damp lips. “Rosie, shut up because I’m going to kiss you right now unless you tell me not to.”
“Ford,” I breathe his name against his lips and hardly recognize my voice. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs back. My smile gets cut off by another tug on my hair, and now his mouth is on my neck. Biting. Kissing. Licking.
I reach forward and flick a finger against her top knee. I don’t know why I do it. It’s childish and unnecessary and yet I can’t stop myself. Her eyes trace the motion, and then I smooth the spot with my hand before losing my brain entirely as I stand, grip her knee, and uncross her legs myself.
*bites fist*
Because she wasn’t you
“Rosie,” I continue, trailing the tips of my fingers over the backs of her legs. “I think you may have confused my self-control and sense of integrity with lack of experience or interest.”
“You’re really telling me you’ve only ever been with two women?” I move my palms up over the top of her thighs. We both watch my hands disappear beneath her skirt. “Yes, but I’ve only ever really wanted one.” I hear her swallow. But she doesn’t respond. That realization might take her a while. “One I can’t fucking have.”
“I told myself I was going to stay the hell away from you. But here I am, making you spread your legs for me on my desk and dreaming about fucking you senseless.”
Rosie, I thought about you. -Ford
“Hell yeah. I’ll sign you out. Everyone at the office thinks I’m Mrs. Grant anyway.” She laughs as she pulls away. “Would you ever want to be?” My brows furrow. “Be what?” “Mrs. Grant?”
“There are glass bottles of Coke in the fridge and the pantry is stocked with boxes of Old Dutch sour cream and onion chips. I flew them in for you. That was my errand. Have fun.”
I press a finger to her mouth, startling her into silence. And then I speak very, very clearly. “I’m never going to get over wanting to fuck you. And something tells me you won’t care what I call you when I do.”
“I definitely don’t hate you, Rosie. Not even close. But I can fuck you like I do if that’s what you need.”
Our eyes catch and something passes between us. Understanding. Agreement. We both know this is perfect. Him. Me. Us. Nothing has ever felt more right.
“I wouldn’t feel trapped with you.”
“No, Rosie. I want you up here.” His voice is soft and deep as he reaches for me. Broad hands circle my waist and I squeal as he hauls me on to him, so I’m straddling his torso. “Gonna need you to be quiet, baby,”
“Rosie. I said be quiet. And stop being polite. I told you to sit on my face.”
I rub my thumb up and down the chilled pint glass, gathering the courage to spit it out. “So, speaking of the apocalypse…” I peek at him from the corner of my eye. He’s watching me, but I keep my gaze plastered forward on the lanes, trying to act casual. I take a deep gulp of my cloudy IPA before spitting it out. “I’m in love with your sister.”
“Dude, if you don’t get off your ass and properly date her, I’m going to pitch you to Forbes as the World’s Dumbest Billionaire. After everything you’ve gone and done for that girl? Come on.”
“Oh, this is my girlfriend—Rosalie Belmont.”
“You are worth every fucking penny!” he shouts, arms flung wide. “I’m careful with my money. I’m downright philanthropic. But this? This isn’t a game. I’m in love with you. This is pocket change compared to what I’d be happy to spend on you. There is no price too high to watch this asshole pay for every moment of misery and self-doubt he caused you.”
“Hear this, Rosie. You are worth every penny. Every fortune. Every investment. Every risk. You are priceless to me.”
“If you learn anything tonight, it should be that I get off on playing with my food before I finish it,” he whispers against my ear.
“I love you, Ford.” He just nuzzles against me again and responds with a quiet, “I’ve always loved you, Rosie.”
Except when I get to the spot where the wooden boards meet the green grass, I stop. There’s a small sign. A plain slab of wood with light blue paint slashed across it. It reads Rosie’s Dock.
I cup his cheeks and give his head a little shake. “Because who the hell else would put up with me?” Then he drops his head to my chest and murmurs, “Putting up with you is my favorite thing to do.”
“Who wants to go boating? My dad says he’ll take us!”
“Loved you then. Love you even more now. If we aren’t driving each other up the wall, what’s even the point?”
“Rosie, shut up and marry me,”
