Page 50 of Dear Rosie

“Aw, fuck.” Nathan reaches up and brushes his thumb across my cheek. “Please don’t cry, Beautiful.”

He shuffles a bit closer.

His scent surrounds me. The same expensive cologne that clung to me after I’d clung to him in that pantry.

“Why am I here?” I whisper. Worried this might all be some game.

Knowing I couldn’t handle it if it is.

“Because I wanted to see you again,” he whispers back. No mincing words. No pretense. “And because your meatballs are delicious.”

A puff of humor leaves my lungs as another tear breaks free. “You should’ve told Blake. There are no meatballs on the menu.”

Nathan swipes his thumb across my cheek again. “Next time.”

I let those words sink into my chest.

Next time.

Nathan leans closer. “I have one question.”

“Just one?” We’re still whispering.

“For now.” He’s so close I can feel his exhale on my lips. “Did you think about me when you made those marshmallows?”

The marshmallows at the party.

The dessert I make for every event.

My mouth opens. But I don’t reply.

Because I don’t want to.

I don’t want to tell him they remind me of him every time.

I don’t want to admit that I learned how to make them when I was sixteen just so I could pretend I was making them for him. So I could feel close to him.

I can’t lay that much of myself out for him.

Not like this.

Not when my heart feels like it’s going to crawl out between my ribs.

He makes a humming sound as he straightens, his hand sliding off my cheek. “Interesting.”

I roll my lips together.

He might not know the details, but apparently, the truth was still written across my face.

The sound of a wagon rattling has me taking a step back. “I have to finish setting up.”

Nathan takes his own step back. “One more thing, Rosie.”

Every time he uses my old nickname, a piece of the wall I’ve built around myself cracks.

I exhale. “What is it, Nathan?”

I swear his eyes darken as he swipes his tongue across his lower lip. “Tell me what’s for dessert.”

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