Page 55 of Kiss From A Rose

I nodded foolishly, even though she couldn't see me. "I love her," I blurted out.

"That's not going to be enough," she declared. "You better have more than that when you show up in my home."

"I will."

I was grateful that Malou had given my family and me a chance to make amends. The callous way in which I'd pressured Rose into not seeing Malou for some reason or other when this woman was battling cancer generated some intense self-loathing.

How had I gotten so caught up in making Rutherford Architects an empire that I had forgotten to take care of my queen?

I was chasing after, not money, because we had plenty of that—no, I was chasing after success. I wanted to make the company bigger and better than my father could have ever dreamed of. Before he died, I had the pleasure of showing him what I'd done, showing him that I was better than him.

The man was dead now, and it really didn't fucking matter if I was better than him at business. At least Mama had never left him like my wife had me. So, who was the bigger loser?

"My party days are over, unfortunately." Malou got up, and Rose was immediately at her side. Malou pushed her hand away. "Don't you dare get up before you finish your meal, Flower Girl?"

Rose rolled her eyes.

"And don't you roll your eyes at me either," she muttered. She looked straight at me. "Gray, can you walk me to my room."

My wife glared at her friend and Malou stuck her tongue out at her. I smiled when my wife sighed, amused. She gave me a warning look that said,don't upset my friend,and sat back down next to Jude.

I held out my arm for Malou, and she snorted as she put her bony hand into the crook of my elbow.

When we got to her room, she sat down on her bed, heaving.

It came instinctively to me. I helped her lie down, propping her up with pillows. I pulled the comforter over her.

She wore a woolen cap. I knew about cancer; I had some relatives who'd suffered. I knew that chemo messed with the body's ability to control internal temperature.

"Are you cold?"

She nodded. "But give it a minute; I'll be hot."

I pulled up an armchair that was by the fireplace close to her bed.

"Rose insisted on giving me a room with a fireplace," she murmured.

"She likes fireplaces."

Malou chuckled. "When we were growing up, there were winters when the temperature dropped like a stone. You know how it goes in Atlanta. Neither her trailer nor mine had any insulation. Her mother would go God knows where, and my parents would be in a drunken stupor. We'd be so cold. We'd huddle in bed together, wearing all our clothes to stay warm."

I nodded. "Yeah, I know. She told me."

"She tell you how one time a man her mother was fucking tried to assault me?"

I shook my head.

"Yeah. Our Rose beat the crap out of him with a saucepan."

"How old were y'all?"

"Twelve." Malou's breath was slightly ragged.

I couldn't fathom the things Rose had gone through as a child. She'd shared some stories with me, but clearly, she hadn't told me everything. Once upon a time, we'd been close and managed to reconnect sporadically throughout our marriage. But we married young—I was still in school, and she had the twins. We never really had the chance to get to know each other like other couples did. Instead, we were thrust into being an instant family.

Living in my parents' house added to the strain. Rose was never comfortable there, and honestly, I wasn't ready to set up a separate home before I earned my degree.

Once I started working at Rutherford Architects, wehadmoved. Mama had been furious but relented when I told her that I needed the space. She'd never have agreed if I told her Rose was miserable. But my wife had been, and I'd finally seen it. It took me a while, though, because, just like now, I needed a hell of a whole lot of time toseemy wife.

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