Page 27 of Rose and the Grouch Next Door

Memories of last night flood me. The intensity, the connection. It was more than passion; it was the kind of moment that brands your soul. And now, to see her here alone…

"Fuck," I curse under my breath, the realization hitting me like a freight train. I've messed up. I haven't told her how deep my feelings run, how she's become my entire world.

I love her.

I walk to her, and my resolve strengthens. I can’t let her slip away. Not without telling her everything.

Not without showing her how much she means to this grumpy old writer who's finally found his sunshine.

"Rose," I call out softly, not wanting to startle her. The word barely leaves my lips before Honeybun perks up from where he's nestled against her side, his head snaps in my direction. He bounds over.

"Hey there, buddy," I murmur, scratching his head while watching Rose. She seems so distant, lost in thought, her body still as the breeze ruffles her hair and clothes. She’s a picture of serenity, but there's an undercurrent of something else. I wish I knew what it was.

I settle beside her, folding my arms over my knees and taking in the expanse of water that stretches to the horizon. It's a view I've enjoyed so many times since moving here, but with Rose here, it’s more intimate.

She’s still not made eye contact, continuing to look at the water.

"Talk to me, Rose. What's wrong?" My voice is gentle, probing. I need to understand what's going through her mind.

She exhales, a soft sigh that seems to carry the weight of the world. "I'm fine, Braxton," she says without looking at me. "I understand, don't worry."

But that's just it. I don't understand. Not one damn bit.

"Understand what, exactly?" I ask, trying to keep my tone light despite the confusion knotting my insides.

Her fingers sift through the sand, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "That I'm a big girl who can have big girl sex and not become some kind of... stalker." There's a half-hearted attempt at a chuckle, but it falls flat.

My eyebrows knit together. What the fuck is she talking about?

She finally turns toward me. Her eyes are haunted by uncertainty.

"I'm not one to chase after a man like some love struck puppy, even if... well, even if last night was..." She trails off, her cheeks blush.

"Even if last night was what?" I prompt her, needing her to say it, needing to know if she felt even a fraction of what I did.

"Special," she whispers, and the word sends a jolt straight to my heart.

“I also overheard you on the phone, Braxton. You said you were done, that you wanted to get back home.” Her voice hitches.

"Rose, listen to me," I say, shifting closer, my hand finding hers in the sand. "Last night was more than special to me. It was…"

How do I put into words something that defies description?

"Was?" Her voice is small, unsure, and it tugs at something within me.

"More than I've ever felt before," I confess, squeezing her hand. "And I'm not about to let you slip away, thinking it was anything less."

“I’m done with my manuscript. That’s what I was saying to my agent, and the only home I have now is here, with you.”

There's a long pause where only the sound of waves against the shore. Then a slow smile spreads on her face.

It's like watching the sunrise, and I can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, I might have a chance at a happily ever after.

Chapter Twenty-One

Six Months Later…

Rose

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