Page 98 of Follow Your Bliss

“Let me answer that question with a question. When your mom asked you the other day if you and Rose were serious, apparently she said yes, but you didn’t answer. Why not?”

“Because I’m a coward and a dumbass.”

“Son, are you serious about Rose?”

“Yes. I love her. She’s everything to me.”

“Is she good for you? Do you see a future with her?”

“She’s so good for me. Things are just…easy with her. We work together in such harmony. We laugh together, have fun together…”

“I don’t want to know what else you do together.” He took another sip of his beer.

I laughed, straightening out the plastic straw wrapper, folding it over in half, and folding each end under alternately like Rose taught me with her ribbons. “You know, in Florida, I asked her if she’d designed any wedding dresses for herself over the years. And I can’t get it out of my head, how…” I pinched the wrapper at the end of the folds and pulled one side so it formed a rose. “The whole time she was showing them to me, all I could think was how I wanted to marry her in every one of those dresses.”

Dad pointed at the straw wrapper rose I’d made. “I know you went through hell, but I agree with Rose. It wasn’t because you made bad decisions.”

“Wait, you talked to her?”

“No. It’s something she said to your mom on Sunday, before church. That it wasn’t fair to blame you for bad choices when Kasey was abusive.”

My face heated with welling tears. She stood up to Mom for me when I couldn’t.

“You always were a smart kid with a good heart. And I’m so proud of the man you’ve grown into. If you love this girl, then she must be alright. And you have something worth fighting for.” He took a sip of his beer. “It’s not all or nothing, you know, your mom’s happiness versus yours and Rose’s. I know you’re too old for me to tell you what to do, but you can’t roll over and give up.”

He clapped his hand on my shoulder, and I grabbed it. “Thanks, Dad. I love you.”

“I love you too, son.” He slipped out of the stool and tossed his head toward the other room. “Brad looks miserable. I’m gonna go see if I can talk his best man into shuttin’ this party down. And make sure Alex doesn’t go home with a stripper.”

I laughed and cleared my throat. “Hang on; I’ll come too. I’m gonna say my goodbyes and call a ride. There’s something I have to work on at home.”

Chapter 17

Chocolate and Orgasms

Rose

It had been only four days since I left Jason. Apparently, distance did make the heart grow fonder, because I was only more certain that I was in love with him.

Nothing could keep my mind off of him. I worked on Mom’s designs—thought of marrying Jason. I let Heather get Becca’s dresses from Jason—soaked up every scrap of information she passed to me. He’d been worried about me and sent along Princess Sleeparella because he knew I had a hard time sleeping without it. The pillow was completely saturated with his scent. The majestic bastard must’ve hugged it every moment I was gone.

So then I slept on it every night, missing him even more intensely than I had before.

I woke up a little hung over this morning, even though I’d skipped out on going to Becca’s bachelorette party in case we accidentally ran into Brad’s bachelor party—the French Quarter was small for being so big. So, I was taking it easy today, sipping tea on the sofa and flipping through one of Abby’s flower catalogs. Down the hallway, Chris Evans’s head Photoshopped onto a naked hunk’s body stared at me from the poster Heather brought home from the party. The three of us stayed up too late playing pin the junk on the hunk, and Heather and I drank too many margaritas. Abby put up with us and got us into bed, bless her teetotaling heart.

A key turned in the door, and Heather came in from work. She flopped beside me on the sofa, sifting through mail in her lap.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for Becca’s rehearsal dinner?” she asked.

My stomach flopped. “I already told Becca I wouldn’t make it.”

“Um, ma’am?” She tried to take my catalog out of my hands, but I pulled it away.

“I don’t have time to go. I have to finish something for Becca, anyway.” A white lie. I’d finished it this afternoon, but it wasn’t wrapped.

“But you have time to flip through a flower catalog? Rose.”

I met her warm brown eyes.

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