Page 114 of Forbidden Dark Vows

Jess and I have been friends since middle school.

As eleven-year-olds we became inseparable over our shared love of Fleetwood Mac songs, flared jeans and disco boots,Scooby DooandGhostbusters. As we grew older, Jess became more athletic and captained the high school basketball team, whileI grew a pair of breasts the size of melons and realized that winning the 200-meter sprint was never going to happen.

We didn’t hang around with the popular kids, but neither were we relegated to the bottom of the school hierarchy, floating along somewhere in the middle with our quirky obsessions and silly sense of humor. I always thought that we were tolerated by the jocks and the trendy girls because of Jess’s love of sports, while she put it down to my breasts.

Whatever the reason, our friendship survived high school, relationships with boys, college, and everything else that life has thrown our way since.

“She’s been an angel as always.” I hold the door open wide to let her in.

“Hmm.” Jess wrinkles her nose. “Will someone please explain to me why you get the angel and I get the demon?”

“I don’t believe you,” I say, tickling Izzie’s waist and making her giggle. The child will break hearts when she’s older.

“Okay.” Jess sets her daughter down and eyes me suspiciously. “What’s happened? And before you say ‘nothing’, I can feel the heat of your wrath from here.”

Dad pokes his head around the kitchen doorway and calls out, “Come on in, Jess. I’ll make coffee.”

We go through to the kitchen where Dad already has the coffee brewing.

“Hi, Mr. Carter,” Jess says. “I can’t stay long. I need to get this little one into bed. Dave’s on babysitting duties tonight, and I’m going out for a couple of drinks with my cousin.”

“You should go with them, Rose.” Dad’s shameless when it comes to forcing my company onto others. “It’ll do you good to get out.”

Jess’s gaze hops between the two of us. “Yes, come, Rose. You can tell me all about what’s got you so rattled.” Her eyebrows dance independently. “My guess is it’s man related.”

Dad chuckles, and I shoot him a glare that goes unnoticed. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“Oh, sweetie, you tell yourself that if it makes you feel better.”

“Okay,I take it all back. Sounds like this guy wears his boxers too tight.” Jess downs her glass of wine and asks the bartender for a refill after I recount the incident in the lobby of Weiss Tower.

The bar is busy, but not so noisy that we have to shout to hear ourselves speak; it’s buzzing, and the urge to run home and hide behind a book in my pajamas is real.

“I just wish Dad would speak up for himself,” I say, rubbing my thumb over the condensation on my glass.

She shakes her head. “Rose, your dad is a grown man. He has worked hard all his life, raised a quite spectacular daughter, and he doesn’t need you to hold his hand.”

I sip my drink, swallow, and feel the familiar sting behind my eyes. Dad meant well, suggesting that I get dressed up in something other than a T-shirt and faded jeans and spend some time with my best friend, but alcohol always produces the same result.

Jess’s warm hand covers mine.

“I miss her so much,” I say as the first tear trickles down my cheek. I catch it on the tip of my tongue and sniff loudly.

“I know.” Jess nods. “You did everything you could for her, Rose. Your mom knew how much you loved her. You even dropped out of college to care for her.”

“So, why do I feel so guilty?” I shake my head, swallow a larger mouthful of wine to blur the edges of what’s going on in my head. But still the same old emotions drag up from somewhere deep inside like water being drawn from a well.

You go through life smiling at people, trying your best to be a good person, to be kind and thoughtful and compassionate, and it works. At least on the surface. No one sees what’s going on beneath the bright smile because they have their own stuff to deal with, and that’s okay. It’s how it should be.

So, you keep going, tell yourself that you’re coping, that finally, you’ve moved on from grief and guilt and loneliness, and then one glass of wine and wham! It all comes flooding back.

“She never got over it,” I murmur. Jess has heard this all before, but she’s the kind of friend who listens and doesn’t tell me to let it go and move on.

“It isn’t something you ever really get over, Rose, losing a baby. But you know what, your parents doted on the baby they did have—you! They poured double the amount of love into you, which makes you a very lucky person.”

The bartender slides Jess’s drink across the bar towards her, and she flashes him a grateful smile. He looks at my almost empty glass, raises an eyebrow, and I down it in one. He pours another without prompting.

He’s good looking, dark hair, olive skin, high cheekbones, the kind of guy I’d be attracted to if my heart was in it. I turn around to face the room which is still filling up.

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