Page 28 of Roses for Rosie

“Only if you promise to call him,” Susie yells over the other two.

“OK, OK. I’ll call him.” I laugh.

Chapter 14

Adam

I can’t stop thinking about Rosie. Images of her dance through my mind while I’m writing, visions of her haunt my dreams, thoughts of her permeate every moment of my day.

I hope she is OK. Her dad better behave himself. My vision goes red at the mere thought that he might be treating her like less than the gift she is. If I find out that he put a toe out of line, he is going to hear from me and he isn’t going to like it. The caged lion in my heart roars a warning call across the hills of New York in the direction of Jamesville.

I hope I get to see her again. Actually, not seeing her again isn’t even an option anymore. My need for her is too fundamental. I will find a way to see her again.

I can’t believe I didn’t think this through before I left her. Telling her to call me if she needed me was such a stupid idea. Rosie is such a strong, independent woman; she doesn’t need anyone. She is perfectly capable of taking care of herself and her father and the bookstore and the whole damn town if she puts her mind to it.

Even if she doesn’t need me, I hope she wants me. If she wants to see me again, to get to know me better, to find out what could be between us, I would drop everything, cancel all plans, break all commitments to be by her side. Being her knight in shining armor at the book signing was a rush, but being by her side day in and day out is what I really want.

I’ve never wanted that with anyone before. Ever. Love ‘em and leave ‘em is my motto. I don’t even mean the ‘love ‘em’ part literally. It’s more like use them and leave them or fuck them and leave them. Women are fun, they are gorgeous, they are useful for photo ops, but I’m perfectly satisfied to come to home to my own space and make my own rules. At least I was, until I met Rosie.

Watching my parents’ train wreck of a relationship, soured me on commitment and love early on. If that is what partnership with another person looks like, you can count me out. I’m too smart to get pulled into that kind of dysfunction.

But meeting Rosie has changed something deep inside me. Thinking about coming home to her, sharing my life with her, asking her to be my partner for better or for worse doesn’t feel like a noose around my neck, it feels like a warm soft blanket wrapped around my shoulders.

I barely know her. How can I be considering giving up the lifestyle which has left me successful and rich beyond my wildest dreams for a stranger?

But Rosie doesn’t feel like a stranger. She feels like coming home, not to the home I grew up in, that was more hell scape than Brady Bunch, but to the home I always dreamed about when I was hiding in my room listening to my parents fight and hoping they forgot I existed.

I have to call her. There really isn’t even a choice to be made. In order to survive, I need to have Rosie in my life. For the sake of my mental health, I need to know what could be between us. The thought of pursuing this relationship makes my heart skip a few beats. Anxiety born from vulnerability blooms in my chest.

I put myself out there through my books all the time, but I’m insulated by the miles those pages put between me and my readers and the anonymity which comes with the written word. When someone doesn’t like a book, they can just put it down. I never need to know.

If Rosie doesn’t like the plotline I lay out in front of her, the rejection will be personal. She’ll be turning me down, not setting my work aside. I don’t relish the possibility that she will kick me to the curb, but I have to man up and ask. I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t at least take the chance.

I find the notes I made about the book signing at Nooks and Books when I first talked to Jan about it. The phone number is written clearly on the page, with a bold line under it. The first time I gazed at that number I was filled with loathing, dreading the visit to boring old Jamesville. Little did I know that visit would change my life.

I wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs and pick up the phone, hoping Rosie will pick up and not Vivian.

“Nooks and Books, where your next read is just a page away,” Rosie’s voice comes through the phone loud and clear.

“Hi, Rosie. Adam here.”

“Adam! I wasn’t expecting to hear from you. How are you?”

“I’m good, yeah, great. I just…how are things at home? You know, with your dad?” I ask, stalling.

“Better, actually.” She giggles. “I think you scared him.”

“Good, that was the idea.”

An awkward pause follows. It’s now or never and never isn’t an option.

“I was wondering if you would like to go out to dinner with me this Saturday night?”

“Dinner?”

“Yes, dinner. You know, two people go to a restaurant, they sit down at the same table, small talk ensues over the menus, food is presented on plates, the people consume it.”

“Ha ha. I know what dinner is. Are you asking me out on a date?”

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