Page 41 of Dear Rosie

How I’d told her we were moving the next day.

How she cried.

I haven’t thought about Rosie in so long.

That tightness moves down my throat into my chest.

She was my best friend for those few years we knew each other.

And then I had to move.

And…

I remember leaving her that letter in the woods.

Remember tucking it under the bag of marshmallows.

Fucking marshmallows.

I’d forgotten about those too.

I haven’t had a marshmallow in so long.

Until tonight.

I think about that. About the dessert Rosie made.

Did she make them because she still loves them?

Did she think about me while she made them?

Something twists inside me at the thought that maybe she’s thought about me all these years, when I forgot.

I look back at my fingers, still shiny with her slick.

What a turn the night has taken.

I fingered Rosie Edwards without even knowing it.

I glance at the closed door, then, remembering how her body reacted to my touch, I shove my two fingers into my mouth.

The taste of her settles on my tongue.

My pretty Little Rose, tasting like home.

Maybe I didn’t know who she was this time, but the next time I have my hand down Rosie’s pants, I’ll have her screaming my name.

Using my free hand, I adjust myself, then follow Rosie’s route out of the pantry.

Hands washed and clothes straightened, I rest my hip against the counter across from the dishwasher.

I already planned to spend the night on the couch in Maddox’s library, so with nothing else to do, I pull the business card out of my pocket and wait for the dishwasher to finish.

Hannah gave me this card.

I run my thumb over the raised letters.

Letters spelling outRosalyn’s Restaurant.

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