Page 84 of Just a Distraction

“I thought the stash of newspaper was in that bottom drawer,” Rose points to it and our eyes meet. “We’re getting close to being done,” she says with a weary smile.

It’s only taken a couple of hours to pack everything up and load up the boxes, probably because she doesn’t have much stuff. Her apartment in Chapel Hill is a little smaller than this one, so she’s been consolidating and donating.

Rose’s younger sister, Leila, comes in the kitchen, too, squeezing in between the kids milling around and Stella fussing with the food. “Mom’s taking the kids to school in the morning,”she tells Eden. “I asked her to just sleep at your place with all the kids tonight since we’re getting such an early start.”

“Makes sense,” Eden says, yanking out a portion of the newsprint and wrapping it around a tall water glass.

I told Rose I’d be happy to drive the moving truck with her out to North Carolina, but she said she’d been telling her sisters for years they’d make it a girls’ trip. Their mom will take care of all eight of their combined kids at Eden’s house for a few days. Eden and Leila are going to take turns driving Rose’s car and helping with Callum and Thorin in the moving truck. It’s a two-day drive, one way, and once they help her get moved in and settled, they’ll drive the moving truck back.

It’s a great plan. I just wish it involved me somehow.

“You get to go in the big truck tomorrow, Callum,” I say, and he grins. He’s been excited about the prospect for days.

Rose and I have tried to explain to him that I’m not coming, but he doesn’t seem to grasp that yet. I’m having a hard time grasping it, too.

Still, I can’t push her. I like her stubborn nature in principle. It’s gotten her where she is today. But I really wish she could take in the idea that two things can be true at once: she can be a strong, independent woman doing what’s best for her and her son . . . and not say goodbye to what we have.

Rose is dumping eating utensils in another box and since Callum’s in my arms, I lean against the kitchen wall, taking in her beauty. She’s smiling faintly, blowing her hair out of her face. Still, her eyes look hollow.

“I sign on the new house two days after we get back,” Eden announces, pumping a fist in the air. After making some money selling peptide skin care products to her hair clients, she was able to save up enough for a down payment and is moving into her first house soon.

“Hey, that’s the day I have my fancy date with Steven,” Leila says in a sing-songy tone, while her sisters and Stella coo and clap.

Rose turns to me. “Steven’s the accountant she’s been seeing.”

“I know,” I say.

“He’s taking me to The Capital Grille,” Leila says, to which the rest of us say, “We know,” in unison.

We’ve all heard about Steven. He seems to be a good guy, and after Rose met him, she whispered in my ear, “Everything’s working out for everyone.”

I’m happy for the changes Rose and her family are experiencing. But when she says everything’s working out, that doesn’t mean it’s working out for us.

When some of Callum’s cousins run through the kitchen, he pushes off me to jump down and chase them, and I tug Rose close.

“Come kiss me in private,” she whispers in my ear, her soft breath like curlicues tickling my neck.

Frustration broils in my gut. How can she expect us to kiss, pretending nothing’s wrong? Still, I can’t say anything about that here with everyone around. “Private? There is no privacy around here.”

Case in point? Gabriel and Alec are in the doorway of the kitchen again, waiting for Rose to assign them the next thing to take to the truck.

“Hey guys,” Rose says, stepping back from me, but giving me an apologetic glance. “The sofa stays because it came with the apartment. But what about the bookshelf?”

We packed her books up last night, and it hit me all over again.

A couple of hours later, the house is mostly cleared out and cleaned. Callum’s asleep in Rose’s bed, since we’d taken down the crib already. As we say goodbye to the last lingering people,Rose’s smile is thin against her fatigue. She drops down into the kitchen chair and rests her head in her hands.

“I’m going to miss this table, you know.” She knocks against it with her fist before returning to her slouch. “Renting a furnished apartment is nice, but then you have to say goodbye to not only the structure but the furniture inside it, too. It’s sad.”

I nod, my jaw smarting as I bite down hard. There’s a lot I want to say, but I don’t know where to start.

“I’m going to miss the table,” she continues, “because we’ve had a lot of memories sitting here.” Her gaze is soft and tears begin to form in her eyes.

“I’ve written some of my best words here,” I agree, my voice strained from holding back the things I actually want to say.

“You got into a pretty good rhythm. And don’t worry, you’re going to get an agent soon, I can feel it.”

We’d tried to spend every other evening apart so I could write, but that didn’t last long. She’d either invite me over or I’d show up, saying I couldn’t stay away. But it was okay because after Callum went to sleep, I could actually find my creativity and focus. I wrote and she read books. Sometimes she even read my stuff and offered feedback. It was perfect.

---