Chapter Six

Rosie

Walking from her car to the building always made Rosie think of William sitting on the bench near the office that day when she had met him. It wasn’t that long ago, but it felt like years. She felt like she’d known him for so long. How could anyone get that close to someone they didn’t really know? But with him, she knew him, he knew her. Not the things, not the silly memories they’d share as they spent more time together, but a knowing inside each other. Like they were made for one another. Cliché, but there it was and that was how he made her feel. She’d connected with him on such a fundamental level she wasn’t sure she’d recover if he ever ended it. Even the thought of it brought a lump to her throat. She had to shut it down before she went into overthinking mode.

She pulled her coat tight around her, sighed at the sight and smiled. She was glad that day happened, glad the wind had blown his papers in the path of her car. Even though she had almost killed him at the time. If there was ever such a thing as fate and a path for everyone, this was theirs and that was the moment the world made them aware.

Just before going into the building, Rosie checked her phone in case he’d texted her or called or something. He’d disabled alerts for when she was driving. Some new thing that had come in with the software and he’d insisted she have it activated, so she wouldn’t be distracted by any calls or texts.

But there was nothing. No calls or texts. She fired one off herself. “At work. Miss you already.” And hit send.

She’d not even made it past the first flight of stairs when her phone rang. She smiled as she fished it out of her pocket, expecting to see William’s name flash across the screen. But the moment she saw who it was, her heart sank--her mother.

With a breath, she stopped on the landing between floors, blinked hard and answered. “Hey, Mom. How’s things? It’s really early. Are you okay?” She put on the best happy voice she could manage. Maybe a little too chipper.

“Yes. Yes, quite fine. It’s not so early. Your father and I have been up for a good two hours already. Your father went for a run and I had Pilates.”

Rosie rolled her eyes at her mother’s tone. It wasn’t so much what she said, but the way she said it. That accusing, this is what we do and you don’t tone of voice. “That’s nice.”

“We haven’t heard from you in a few days.”

“Oh, I’m fine. Just busy. We’re decorating the house.” The door opened on the floor she was at and a man came out. Consultant. She’d seen him around but wasn’t fully sure. “I meant to call. Was going to this evening, actually. You just beat me to it.”

Liar … she blew out a breath.

“I’m just at work.”

“When are you coming home, Rosie? This has gone on long enough now.”

Here we go again. Rosie let out a silent sigh. “We’ve been over this. I’m happy here. William and I …”

“He can’t support you. He can barely support himself. You need a proper man, a man with money and a future. Not some man who scrounges off you. He’ll run when your inheritance runs out.”

“William has his own house,” Rosie shot. She’d not wanted to say these things before because it was arguing, and Rosie had learnt long ago, arguing with her mother was useless. But sometimes. “Do you know that? You don’t know anything about him.”

“I’m, sure. But perhaps it’s time you stop sulking and grow up. I may not know him, but I know you. You need to come home. You have responsibilities here. Peter has been more than lenient.”

Peter. Rosie’s mind jolted at the name. She ground her jaw as the name made spikes run along her back. “I’m here mother. Why can’t you be happy for me?”

“How can I be happy for you when I know you’re making a foolish mistake? Even the weather is dull and dreary. You need to be at home with your family. You have a job here, a career.”

“Then give it to someone else.”

She heard her mother’s exasperation on the other end, the way she sighed, the way she tapped her fingers against the counter. Her mother would be standing in the kitchen, perfectly manicured nails tapping, pristine halo above her perfectly conditioned head. “You’re being ridiculous, Rosie. The money is yours. Your father and I …”

“You mean my father. You never—” She cut herself off before she could speak the words she really wanted to say. In truth, her mother had done nothing to earn the life she had. Other than make sure everyone did as they were told. Even the kids. All fitting into the image she was trying to portray for the family. Without their father, her mother would be nothing.

“I’ve spoken to your father, and he agrees. If you don’t come home, we have no choice but to come and get you. You can only be stubborn and poor for so long.”

“There is nothing wrong with being either of those,” Rosie said. She huffed out a breath, not caring that time if her mother heard her or not. “Better to be poor than to live a fake life and be miserable. And, I’m not poor. I have a job. William has a job.”

“Job yes.” Her mother laughed. “Just over broke. Is that how you want to be for the rest of your life? Just skimming across broke? Think about children. How are you going to raise them?”

“I might not have children,” Rosie said. “Perhaps William and I are content together and don’t need to bring in additional people to make us happy.”

“Well, that’s the wisest thing you’ve said all year. Children ruin your body and your life. It would be a terrible idea to breed with that man. If I had my time again, I’d not have children. I’d …”

“Yeah, thanks for that, Mom.” Rosie shook her head and turned so she could see out of the window. The carpark was half full. People coming and going. Mothers, daughters, fathers and sons. What it would be like to be one of them? She willed herself to say goodbye to her mother and hang up the phone. But she’d just call back later, or call the office, or worse, get on the next flight that night and say she was worried Rosie had got herself into trouble. “You don’t need to come here. William and I are quite fine, everything is fine. And quite frankly, if you can’t be happy for me, for us, then leave it.”