Page 50 of Rule Breakers Fall Hardest

His silence is worse than his anger.

A lump lodges thickly in my throat.

“Rosie—” Daire steps in close, holding his arms out in an offer of comfort.

I shake my head, shrugging him off.

This isn’t real.

He doesn’tactuallywant to touch me, and I can’t stomach the idea of accepting false affections from my fake-husband in a moment like this. I head back to the waiting room and park my butt in the seat beside Cash I claimed earlier.

“I’m sorry,” Cash says softly, tilting closer.

I give a tiny nod of acknowledgment. He shouldn’t have to worry about me. His dad is the one we should all be focused on.

While we wait for news about his dad, it’s pretty damn clear that mine just might hate me.

13

DAIRE

Rosie’s bodyis stiff in the bed beside me. She’s only just stopped crying, and she only gave in to the tears when she thought I’d fallen asleep.

We came home a few hours ago, after we found out my dad was doing fine. We haven’t been allowed to see him yet, so we’ll go back in the morning. This is certainly not the Thanksgiving weekend I imagined. The last thing I expected to happen when I broke the news of our marriage to my dad was that he’d have a heart attack.

For several minutes, I blink up at the ceiling, arguing with myself over whether I should say something to Rosie, and when I finally decide to bite the bullet and do it, I’m at a complete loss for words.

But I do it anyway.

With a deep breath in, I lace my hands over my abdomen.

“Rosie?” I whisper.

She probably won’t answer. If I had to bet, she’ll continue to feign sleep. And if she does, then I won’t have to come up with something else to say.

The sheets rustle, and the mattress dips. In my periphery, she rolls onto her side so she’s on her back and cups her hands beneath her head.

“Yeah?”

I swallow and rack my brain for something that will ease her pain. “Your dad will forgive you.”

She huffs a sigh. “Probably not before my mom’s finished planning the wedding.” A little laugh escapes her then, the sound slightly hysterical. “She already sent me a Pinterest board.”

I cross my right arm behind my head. “Are you okay with that? With her taking over?”

She snorts. “Absolutely not. I’ve been dreaming of my wedding for years, but…”

“But this isn’t real?”Whydid that sound like a question?

“Right. But I still want it to feel like me. Not my mom. Even if it’s temporary. That’s not really what’s bothering me, though.”

“Just your dad?”

She shakes her head. “Your dad’s in the hospital, Daire. I feel so… guilty.” Her voice wavers on that last word, like she’s crying again.

My stomach sinks at the thought. I don’t know how to handle a woman’s tears.

“Don’t cry,” I practically beg. If she does, I’m worried my natural instinct will be to pet her on the head and say, “There, there.”

---