Page 87 of The Love Losers

My mother studies me for a moment before nodding. “I think it’s about time we let him go, don’t you?”

Her eyes look glassy with tears, but she wouldn’t be my mother if she didn’t immediately stiffen her back and say, “And it’s past time for you to get up and stop sulking. This is not happening. We will not allowNina, of all people, to destroy us. Rosie included, if you’re fond of her. What an embarrassment that would be.”

Smiling despite myself, I get to my feet. I still feel like I’ve been pancaked by a truck, but at least I’m not alone anymore. And if that’s not a damn Christmas miracle, I don’t know what is.

“Oh, good, he’s got some fight left in him.” Emma pats me on the back. “Let’s go inside and get wasted, shall we? Because nothing’s going to be resolved on Christmas, so we might as well be hungover.”

I laugh, because yes, we fucking shall. “I missed you too.”

“We won’t be doing anything of the sort before Anthony’s hand is treated,” Mother says. “But after we get it treated, Idothink a stiff drink would be medically appropriate. Especially if we need to visit the emergency room on Christmas Eve. Then, of course, we’ll decide what to do about Nina. Because we will be doing something about Nina, even if the wedding doesn’t go forward. I can report her for having stolen my necklaces.”

I jolt, my eyes meeting hers. “Mother, you can’t do that. She’d retaliate, and it would hurt Rosie.”

Which is exactly why I haven’t already called Nina. I’m in no condition to play conversational chess with anyone.

Her expression turns speculative. “You really have feelings for this girl.”

I nod, my throat tight. “But I can’t tell you and Emma what Nina knows about her. That’s Rosie’s secret, and she hasn’t given me permission to share it.”

My mother sniffs dramatically. “Oh, pish. I don’t give a toss what her secret is. If she were a gold digger like Nina, she’d already have you in front of an altar. No threat or fear of common decency would stop her.”

“She’s not,” I insist, my throat feeling scratchy. “She doesn’t care about the money. She thinks I should quit and use my inheritance to renovate the Ware.”

“She sounds like a smart girl,” Emma says, watching me.

“She is.”

Too smart to get wrapped up in our shit.Not that she doesn’t have plenty of baggage of her own. Logically, I know I should be more worried about Rosie’s secrets and what they could mean for both of us. She committed a serious crime, and if that comes to light, she could face stiff punishment.

But it’s hard to hold her culpable for a crime she was backed into by her own uncle when she was too young to legally drink. I know better than anyone how easy it is to be swayed and shaped by the people we’re supposed to be able to trust.

Still…even if we can get Nina to back off, I’m far from sure it’s a good idea for Rosie to marry me. She’d be risking her own safety. There’d be so many eyes on us.

Speaking of which…

I sigh, and say, “The situation has complications that go beyond Nina. There’s the stalker to worry about.”

“Let’s not,” Mother says. “We hired those private investigators to see to that. “

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“Neither do I,” she says, pointedly, her gaze darting to my hand, “which is why we have a guard watching our comings and goings and those private investigators on board. Although Nina’s interference certainly suggests she’s behind the whole thing.” She lifts her brows and puckers her mouth. “I have to admit, she’s a fiercer adversary than I gave her credit for.”

“I don’t think it was her.” I can’t explain why other than that I have a gut feeling, something my mother probably wouldn’t accept as an explanation. Swallowing, I add, “There are some aspects of Rosie’s background she doesn’t want coming to light. But it’s not hopeless. Simon won’t look too hard since a chunk of the money’s going to be sunk into the company.”

Emma sighs. “You do realize you could have herandyour dream if you give up your trust fund, right? Then you wouldn’t need to worry about any of this shit. Once we take care of Nina, of course.”

“What money would I be able to invest in The Ware if I don’t get the trust fund?” I ask pointedly.

She shakes her head. “I’m too sober for this conversation, so I’ll only say this. You want to cut down the tree, Anthony, but that tree’s not the only thing Dad has his roots in. Now, let’s get to the emergency room before you go septic.”

I walk back with them, my mind busy and full of doubt, because when my sister is right, she’s right.

It hits me that there’s somewhere I’d like to bring Emma and my mother—the place where Rosie and I came up with the idea for our lists. It’s special to me, and I have the impulse to share it with them.

I need to learn to follow my impulses rather than shoving them away.

“Hey,” I say, smiling at them, “I have a bar we should go to after my hand gets cut off.”

---