Page 41 of Rosie and the Beast Next Door

Dylan

Mom used tongs toset a steak on my plate, next to the mashed potatoes and salad. “You still like your steak medium, right?” she asked, sounding too much like a waitress who wanted to make sure she did a good job. She even wore a dress and apron.

“Yes, thank you.” Painful silence followed as she put a steak on Dad’s plate next and then sat across from me and took the last one for herself. Dad had on his uniform, and his hat was resting on the counter behind him. His every muscle seemed tense.

I wondered if we both equally hated this.

Outside, the wind blew lightly, promising rain later that evening, but for now, the sun shone through the back windows. The tree house Shiloh and I used to live in all summer was still tucked into the huge maple tree in the backyard, along with the tire swing we’d hung when we were kids.

I tore my gaze away.

Silverware clinked as we silently ate our late lunch.

Lily had opted out of coming to this torturous Sunday family dinner, claiming that she and Charlie had plans together. I’dnever once been jealous of my sister before, but there was always time for firsts.

“How’s Wint—

“What have you been—”

Mom and I both stopped talking, waiting for the other to finish. Dad’s knife scraped too hard against the plate, sending a high-pitched scritch through the room. Mom winced.

I took a bite, hoping she’d take it as a cue to finish asking her question.

“What have you been up to this week?” she asked.

I swallowed down my steak and took a drink of water. “Just getting settled into my apartment. Working out a lot.”

“I heard,” Dad mumbled so quietly, I almost didn’t hear him. I decided to ignore it.

“You and Rosie seemed friendly,” Mom continued, too nonchalant to pass for casual. Dad had stopped staring at his plate and was looking at me now as he slowly chewed.

“Yeah. I like Rosie. A lot.” Should I tell them we were dating? They were going to hear it through the Winterhaven grapevine soon enough, but we weren’t close enough for me to share personal information like that. Instead I went with, “She’s unexpected.”

Dad snorted, and his shoulders seemed to relax the smallest bit as he took another bite of his steak.

Mom cut Dad a look I couldn’t interpret. “Rosie is delightful,” she said firmly.

“A delightful pain in my—” Dad started to say, but he swallowed down his words when he caught both Mom and I glaring at him. He held up his hands like he was a criminal in a pat down. “I genuinely think the world of her.”

I relaxed into my chair, surprised that my immediate reaction had been protectiveness of Rosie.

“It’s herideasI have a problem with,” he finished.

Mom laughed. “She’s keeping you young. And don’t pretend you don’t come home happy when you have a new Rosie story to tell.”

“The public intoxication one really took the cake,” he said in a gruff tone, but I could see the smile he was hiding behind his hand.

“The what?” I asked.

“After her shift at Icy Asps one night,” Mom said, “Rosie accidentally drank an entire pitcher of hard lemonade, thinking it was regular lemonade.”

“They don’t taste the same,” I said. “At all.”

“She thought it was regular lemonade with a surprise kick,” Mom said.

Dad jumped in to continue. “There was a kick alright. Turns out the gal is a lightweight, and she ended up belting show tunes up and down Main Street after midnight. It disrupted a lot of people’s sleep.”

“So someone called you?” I asked.

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