Page 82 of The Love Losers

My gaze finds her. She’s watching me eagerly. “Rosie, this is…”

I don’t have words.

It’s a drawing of my unicorn—of the Ware—just as I described it to her. It’s as if she took it out of my head and brought it into being, and for a moment, I let myself get caught up in the dream of having it.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she says. “I’m not that great at drawing, so I got Jake to help me. I…wanted you to have a picture of your unicorn. Even if you don’t get to keep it.”

“I love it,” I say, even though that’s not totally true.

I love that she wanted to do this for me, but it hurts to see on paper what I’ve only seen in my head. It makes what I’m losing feel more real. Maybe it’s meant to. Maybe this is her way of trying to push me in what she sees as the right direction.

You should let her, the voice inside me whispers.

I glance at her, and she’s watching me with excitement in her eyes. “I know you don’t think you can do it, Anthony, but I really, really think you can. I want to help you.”

“Rosie,” I say, folding the paper and pocketing it so I can take her hands. “I don’t want to be one more person who carries you along in their tide. I want you to pursue your dream.”

“But what if this is it?” she asks, her eyes fixed on mine. “What if I want to help other people? Joy thinks that’s what my purpose is, and I thought about it a lot last night while Jake made that sketch for me. I think she might be on to something.”

“Then you’ll find a way to do it and be damned good at it.” I lift her hand for a kiss. Then I kiss her cold lips again, softly this time, and tell her against them, “Thank you.”

She hugs me to her and says, “Thankyou. I love it out here.”

“In the cold?”

“In any weather. But I’m no fool. Let’s open that basket so we can get some hot chocolate. Ooh, wait…” She pats the pocket of her coat. “My phone’s buzzing. Someone texted me. It may be my brother.”

I decide this is it. This is the moment.

After she checks her phone, she’ll look up, and I’ll already have the box out.

When she stares down at her phone screen, I open the basket, my heart trying its best to thump right out of my chest. I pick up the little velvet box, waiting, my heart in my throat.

I look at her, eager for her to finish—worried about what she’ll say when she does, but a gasp escapes her and she drops her phone. Her eyes wide and startled, she sucks in her bottom lip as she focuses on the box in my hand.

I expected her to be a little surprised, but something about her expression sets me on edge.

“Anthony.”

“Open it.”

She lifts it in shaking fingers, then flips the top open. The diamonds and emeralds sparkle in the sunlight streaming into the garden. “Oh my God.”

I laugh as I take her hand. She gives it to me, tears trailing down her cheeks, and I remove the ring from the box and slide it onto her finger. It fits perfectly, almost as if it were made for her, for this moment. The center stone is a square-cut diamond, surrounded by a larger square of tiny emeralds, set in a white gold band.

“Anthony,” she says again. “This is…”

“I thought about getting you something new, but this is a family ring.” I smile. “My family hasn’t had the best history with relationships, but I’d like to change that. I wantusto change it. Will you do me the honor of being my wife, Rosie?”

More tears stream down her cheeks, and I’m an idiot, because it occurs to me for the first time that they may not be happy tears. She’s not smiling. Her lips are trembling, and there’s a little line between her eyebrows that looks like it’s creased her face for the first time today, at this exact moment. She looks like someone just kicked a puppy in front of her. She’s upset, maybe even devastated.

“Oh, Anthony,” she says, almost on a sob. “I can’t marry you. I think you should marry Jake’s person. The accountant.”

I’m the puppy who got kicked.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

ROSIE

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