Page 51 of Kiss From A Rose

"I already told you, I don't want your money," she bit out, and for the first time since she saw me, I saw the fire inside her, the one that I'd heard over the phone and when she'd laid out how unhappy she'd been in our marriage.

"Believe me, I know that," I said sadly.

She hadn't wanted a dime. For all those gold digger remarks Mama made about Rose, my wifehonestlyloved me for me and not for my last name. I'd known that, but I'd never impressedthat upon my mother. I should have. In the early days of our marriage, I was scared of pissing Mama off. But after, I just didn't give a shit. Of course, I didn't. It wasn't like Mama gave me a hard time about Rose; she gave Rose a hard time abouttrappingme cause she got pregnant all on her own.

"Gray, you can't stay here for that long." She walked to the door. "I…well, let's talk later. Butyou cannot stay here—"

"If you kick me out of the B&B, Rose, I'll just have to find another place on the island. You're here. So, I'm goin' to be where you are."

She sneered at me. She was rarely rude so it was a bit of shock to have her resentment thrown my way. "We'll see, Gray. I'm sure the first time Aimee calls about a crisis, you'll go running."

The way she said Aimee's name bothered me. "Rose, Inevercheated on you, not physicallyoremotionally.Never."

Her jaw tightened. "Why would you, Gray? Wasn't I the good wife who never had a headache and always fucked you however you wanted?"

This wasn't how Rose talked to me, toanyone.What the hell?

"I heard you say that once to Holden."

I gasped. "I…." I couldn't even defend myself because it sounded like something I would say about her if I'd had a few glasses. I didn't get drunk often, but if we were at a party, I let loose.

Had I ever seen Rose like that? Drunk and silly?

My heart hammered.No. I married an eighteen-year-old, and she'd never had a chance to be a teenager. She'd been working right through high school and a year of community college. She'd never had time to be a kid; I knew that. And I hadn't allowed her to be a teenager either, because I knocked her up and then fucked it up further by throwing her into Mama Rutherford's den to be chewed up and spit out.

"It was a few years ago," she continued. "It was Holden's birthday party at theirhouse. I hadn't wanted to come, but you said I had to. ‘People will wonder where you are, Rose. I don't want to deal with that shit.’ She spoke that last part in a sing-song, sarcastic manner.

"Rose, I'm so sorry," I said, memories of the party flooding back. I saw myself in their garden gazebo, talking with Holden. I couldn't recall the exact conversation, only that it was about growing older. Holden had turned thirty-eight, with forty looming ahead. That was about four years ago.

"Do you even remember what you said?" she challenged me.

I shook my head. "I'm afraid I don't. Not exactly. Will you tell me?"

Her eyes began to shine with tears. She shook her head. "Dinner will be ready at six thirty. We're having Cornish hens on saffron rice with roasted vegetables and white wine sauce."

"Thank you, Rose."

She cooked elaborate and interesting meals. The kids had grown up eating amazing food. After they left, she'd continued to cook, but I'd come home less and less for dinner. I'd always been home if the kids were there—but if they weren't…. In so many ways, I'd told my wife without ever saying the words that she wasn't important, the kids were.I was an ass.

After she left, her scent lingered in the room, and I breathed it in. I stared out at the crashing waves as the sky darkened, wondering how I could win her back when I wasn’t sure I even knew her anymore. In just four weeks, she’d become more assertive, more argumentative. I didn’t hate it. I didn’t like it. It confused me, because this wasn’t the Rose I’d lived with for twenty years. If she’d stood up to me like this before, been more forceful, would I have behaved better? Not that she should’ve needed to—I should’ve treated my wife properly no matter what. This was on me. But I still wondered how things might’ve been ifwe’d ever been able to talk about how we really felt, as I admired the view from the B&B I’d refused to visit for years.

CHAPTER 19

Rose

"I'mliterallydyin' here, and you want to fight with me?" Malou smirked.

"I can't believe you're usin' your cancer like this," I said, horrified.

"Flower Girl, if I can't use it now, what's the point? I sure as hell won't be able to after I'm dead," Malou chortled. She was sitting in an armchair with a cup of mint tea by the fireplace, facing a window and looking out into the darkness where the white froth of the waves looked like clouds rolling in the night.

"You talked to Gray," I accused her.

She nodded. "He called me. Begged me to help give him a chance to make it up to you."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Begged? Pull the other leg, Malou, it's shorter."

She snorted. "Bitch, listen to me, the man was cryin' on the fuckin' phone. What did you want me to do? You know, I've gone soft since I'm so close to death."

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