Page 73 of Return To You

Yeah, on the couch, I think bitterly before my eyes widen and my mouth parts in shock.

Barnett and Cameron both laugh at my reaction while Dad snorts.

“She’s not fighting, huh, Noah?”

I blink and look at him, and a slow smile stretches across my face, and he laughs. “She’s fighting, son; you just don’t see it because she’s doing it onherterms for herself. Taking your smokes is one thing, the question is, what else has she done over the past month to fight for your relationship that you don’t know about?”

That is a really good fucking question….

Dad’s words ring in my ear a few hours later as I walk into Rose’s apartment with Diego in my arms.

Fuck, I hate this place. I asked her to move to the condo last week, but she fucking refused. She barely has anything here for herself, for fuck’s sake, and yet she won’t let me help her.

Shaking my head, I kiss Diego’s head before placing him down in front of his toys near the window, and look around the room, my dad’s words still in my head.

What else has she done to help herself fight for us?

My eyes go toward the small TV on the bookshelf before they lock on several new photos in new frames. Some of Diego and me, but others, damn….

There’s one of me looking at the lake, leaning against the bike she bought me, my arms crossed over my chest, and then another of her and me near the tree we’ve dubbed ours. I’m leaning against it, her back is to my front, and we’re both smiling, but it’s the one of our initials carved into the tree in a photo frame that’s the icing on the cake for me. I didn’t even see her carve it.

Fuck….

I scan the room again and notice my guitar leaning against the wall, a heart painted just above it. I walk into the small kitchen and see my favorite coffee, including my mug from high school.

Fuck, I was wondering where that thing went….

I take a deep breath. Fuck, Dad was right. She’s fighting for us by testing me to see if I’d be alright staying here.

Trying to swallow past the lump in my throat, I pick up Diego. "Come on, buddy. It's time for a shower, and then bed.”

He giggles, gripping my chain, and I walk him to the bathroom, hoping Rose will be home soon so we can hash shit out.

“Seriously, Noah, you canceled my courses!” Rose shouts as she walks through the front door an hour later.

I look up from her laptop and all her pictures and videos of us.

She’s in her waitress uniform, her hair cascading down her back, looking beautiful.

I shrug, shutting the laptop, and placing it on the edge of the couch.

I reply, “It’s a good thing our son sleeps through a lot, Rose, considering he’s only been asleep for forty minutes, and you stole my smokes, so we’ll call it even.”

She growls, throwing her bag on the floor, and snaps, “They are cancer sticks, and you know it, and I refuse to lose you, so no, we’re not even. This is my career we’re talking about!”

I suck my bottom lip into my mouth to stop my smile.

Yeah, Dad was right; she’s fighting for us without me realizing.

Her eyes take in my bare chest as I stand, and she clears her throat and asks, “Where is your shirt?”

This time, I do grin, and I admit, “Got soaked; our son still doesn’t like baths. It’s hanging in the bathroom. I just couldn’t be bothered to get a clean one.” I tilt my head and ask, “Did you know the duffel I leave here is empty, and all my clothes are hanging up in your closet?” Her eyes come back to mine as she takes a step back, and I grin wider. “And my toothbrush and body wash are in your bathroom?”

After Diego fell asleep, I looked around some more, and like I said, Dad was right.

She’s been slowly moving me in this past month. The one thing I can’t understand, though, is me sleeping on the fucking couch.

I tilt my head at her as I cage her in against the door, and ask, “Why have you made me sleep on the couch if you’ve been moving me in?”

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