Page 61 of Bottle Rocket
She regretted it instantly.
On top was the sketch he’d done of her that first day. He’d added to it. There were small flushes of color on her cheeks, bra, and shorts. Then there was his book,Lovers.
She opened it to the title page to find a huge paragraph of his messy script. Her heart started hammering in her throat. Maybe she should wait to read it until after emergency brunch. She had a feeling it was going to rip her to pieces.
She didn’t have that much self-control, though. Her eyes sped over the paragraph, skimming it once before slowing down and taking it in.
He had written, “I believe that art is a life raft. It connects us and keeps us afloat. It saves our lives. It saved mine. A year ago, I had a memory of you dancing through a cloud of smoke bombs. You were eighteen, and I didn’t want to say goodbye. I couldn’t shake that memory. I started dreaming in pastel colors. In pale pinks and powdery blues and soft yellows. It was all I thought about. Those colors surrounding someone I loved. This book bloomed from that memory. You’re my life raft. You always have been. And I’ll always love you. –Leo”
“Oh my God.”
She was crying, which pissed her off to no end, but she couldn’t seem to stop. She unwrapped the last parcel.
It was a watercolor painting of that moment by the river thirteen years ago. The one she’d remembered last night when she’d been setting off fireworks. She’d lined up a bag of smoke bombs, lit them all at once, and skipped through the smoke to land in Leo’s lap. She had drunk from his sour-cherry snow cone and kissed him like he wasn’t about to break her heart.
It was there, on the canvas in her hands. Billows of colorful smoke and her shadow peeking through it, vague and nebulous and haunting. Most people wouldn’t look at this painting and see her, but she recognized herself in the angle of her shoulders and the way her feet were planted in the sand.
There was a lot of love in this painting.
Leo loved her, and she’d let him drive away.
A loud banging on her car window made her jump and almost drop her precious present. She glanced over to see Benji blinking at her through the glass, his eyes shocked. He tried to open her door, but it was locked. He knocked again.
Rosie pushed open the door, and Benji pulled her out of the car. He checked her over as if he expected to see a physical sign of why she was crying.
“What did he do?” Benji demanded. She laughed.
Sasha parked her completely ridiculous VW Bug next to them and vaulted out of the front seat. She rushed over.
“What did he do?” she asked.
“Oh my God,” Rosie said. She was laughing and kind of crying and she loved her siblings so much. “Let’s go inside.”
Benji and Sasha were handling her like fine china. She sat down next to Sasha in their normal booth. They ordered for her and pushed a mimosa into her hand.
The waitress did not seem surprised to see one of the Holiday siblings having a breakdown. Old hat, this. It made Rosie laugh harder.
“What’s happening?” Benji whispered to Sasha. Sasha shook her head.
“He loves me,” Rosie blurted out.
Silence followed that statement. She noticed Benji and Sasha sharing very concerned looks. Rosie threw back her mimosa and poured herself another one.
“That sounds horrible,” Benji said, obviously unsure how to handle this. “Fuck that guy?” Rosie felt Sasha kick Benji under the table. He held up his hands. “What? She’s acting weird.”
“Do you think my emotions are all over the place because of the orgy?” Rosie asked.
More silence.
“I shouldn’t have asked that,” she said into the awkwardness.
Benji—thelingerie influencer—was holding his hand over his mouth, and Sasha—thesex-toy saleswoman—was blushing. Rosie didn’t know why they were acting prudish now.
“Okay, let’s start at the beginning,” Sasha said. “Tell us what happened.”
Rosie took another gulp of mimosa and did. She told them about the nude modeling and the sex checklist and the art and the jam making and his mother and the pesky way her heart hurt and a PG-13 executive summary of the orgy and, lastly, the proposition he’d made that morning and the absolutely heart-wrenching gifts he’d given her.
“Oh, so he’s Prince Charming. I see,” Benji said once Rosie was done. “What’s the issue?”
