Page 59 of The Inevitable Us

Having decided, I skip kitchen lab and walk into the academic counselor’s office for my pre-scheduled appointment.

“Oh, hello there, Rosalie, is it? Well, let’s see. Certainly not the first person to walk in this soon to change their major. Quite a few people leave once they realize what it’s like.”

She gestures for me to sit at the desk in front of her. “Now, do you just want to drop all the classes that won’t transfer over to another major?”

Biting my lip, I sit down in the chair. “Yes, I think I want to drop everything that won’t carry over.”

She looks back at the monitor and pauses for a moment. “That will only leave you with 6 credits this semester. Making you part-time. Are you ok with that?”

Her words sound…freeing. After a few more moments, I find that I’m only enrolled in an accounting and business class, and I only have to attend school on Tuesdays and Thursdays. This I can handle. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Remember the registration deadline for your new classes once you decide for the Spring…” she warns.

Standing up, I grab my purse. “Got it.”

Chapter twenty-nine

Sawyer

Walkingintothelobby,I give the new doorman a small wave, rolling the dolly with ease in front of me. He looks up in recognition and gives me a slight head nod. He’s at his desk and actually paying attention, unlike the last guy. I’dspokento Patrick, the previous doorman, several times before he decided it was in his best interest to quit with no notice— Approximately five minutes after I’d overheard him gossiping that he’d seen Ethan the day Rosalie had moved in.

Security in the building is still an issue, but Rosalie is never here without me for more than a few minutes. This will have to do until she officially moves out of her loft.

I’d initially thought it a good idea to keep the loft, to have a place near my office and Rosalie’s school. But after the incident with Patrick, I’m thinking more and more that we should spend our time at the ranch. We’ve been slowly moving her things naturally anyway. She had me pack up most of her kitchenware to cook when she was at the ranch. I’d left mine stored in Nashville since the foreman’s cottage was “fully equipped.” But the skillets were badly scratched from previous occupants, the pots missing lids. After getting flustered one too many times trying to cook supper, Rosalie asked me to bring much of her kitchenware over to the cottage. On the rare night we spend at her loft, we usually have food delivered, so it isn’t being used there.

The same with much of her clothing. She comes back for more of it or specific pieces, and I wash the clothing she wears with mine and put them away in our room so that they never make their way back to her place. If we spend a rare night in the loft, I grab her dirty laundry with my own and bring it back to the ranch. She now has three full dresser drawers, and her clothing takes up half the small closet.

Items like electronics, charging cords, and her favorite coffee mug have each made their way to the ranch on their own, neatly stored away before she got it into her head to bring them back here.

The thought brings a satisfied smile as I let myself into the loft. Looking around the space, I see it’s almost empty, except for the items that came with the loft.

It was her first (albeit very short-lived) place, so she’s not collected a lot of “stuff.” Taping up the bottom of the box, I round up the little comfort items she’s laid around the loft—a chenille throw on the back of the couch, the scented honey oatmeal lavender candles she likes to burn. Going up the loft stairs, I open her dresser drawer and pull out the flannel pajamas I’ve seen her wear a thousand times around her parents’ home when she thinks I’m not watching. I’ve seen her eye them a few times as if considering bringing them, and changing her mind, presumably embarrassed to wear the threadbare pajamas in front of me. What she doesn’t know is that I’ve seen her in them countless times over the camera system in Nashville and find her irresistible in them.

After I close the now empty pajama drawer, I glance over and notice Rosalie’s vanity. She loves it and would want it with her. I want her cosmetics not scattered across my bathroom vanity when she’s in a rush in the morning. There’s a perfect place for it in our bedroom where I can still watch her get dressed in the mornings. Win-win.

Noticing the ribbon memo board next to it and the little bottles of perfume on the table, I decide to get another box and carefully wrap each bottle.

Careful to pack each picture in a manilla envelope, I smile when I notice a picture of Rosalie and me together when she was in high school. Josie had taken it during her photography phase while she was home from college during Rosalie and Rory’s sixteenth birthday party.

It was pouring down rain, and everyone was dressed up for the occasion. Everyone else had already left for the venue, but Tessa and Rosalie were late since the hair and makeup lady was running behind. I carefully guided the SUV through the streets in the downpour before parking under the venue’s overhang, where Josie waited with her camera. After parking, I walked to the side to open the door. I grabbed Tessa’s hand to steady her on the walkway. Just as I grabbed Rosalie’s hand, she started to slip on the cement, still not accustomed to heels. I caught her by her elbow and helped her upright. “Be careful, Little M….” I stopped myself from saying my long-used childhood nickname for Rosalie and instead say, “Be careful on the wet cement, Rosalie.” The picture was taken right after I’d released her, one of several Josie had taken of that moment. Now fully upright, Rosalie smiled up at me like I could rope the moon. I’m looking at her like I’d rope it for her if I could.

I didn’t speak to Rosalie again that night, but I did have a word with a handsy Senior boy that had danced with Rosalie. Ethan and Nate were angry they couldn’t find the boy to kick him out after she’d gone to tell her parents. For some reason, I didn’t tell them I’d already taken care of it. Word had gotten back to me later that the over-pampered boy’s parents had called Ethan to complain about his mistreatment by a bodyguard, but not once had Ethan asked any of us who it was or what happened. He didn’t need to. After years of similar incidents, he already knew.

Ethan had once received bad publicity after a crazed fan tried to grab Rosalie when we were walking through a crowd after a concert, Rosalie falling in last. The pictures of me with the headlines “Ethan Coleman’s bodyguard roughs up fan” were published across the tabloids for a week. They didn’t mention I’d had to grab Rosalie from him. After questioning me as to what happened, Ethan had given me a raise, while his assistant Laurel was told to just handle whatever the backlash was. After that, Ethan no longer questioned me when there were incidents. He simply understood.

I smile down at the picture, remembering before adding it back to the envelope. After taping down the boxes and lugging them into my SUV with the vanity stool, I go back for the vanity itself. Cussing that fucking spiral staircase with each step, I use the railing for leverage to get the small vanity down the stairs alone.

Parking the SUV in my office’s garage while I wait for Rosalie to finish for the day, I walk back into my building carrying the extra leash for Ranger I’d stored at the loft. It’ll come in handy at the office.

“Hello, Mr. Benson,” the security guard for my office building says in greeting. “No Ranger today?” he asks, his arms neatly folded in front of him.

“Already in the office,” I say in answer.

I’ve taken to just keeping them with us— the kittens, and Ranger, who seems to have come to peace with the idea of his new siblings. When I walk back into the entryway of my office, I find them on the dog bed together. Wednesday and Charlie are asleep near Ranger’s back, curled up together on the dog bed (despite the fact there are two cat beds available for them), and Ranger is sleeping on his side, now oblivious to their antics.

We’d caught him playing with Charlie yesterday, happily wagging his tail excitedly while the kitten pounced at his ears. Although the kittens have doubled in size, Ranger is always gentle with him, never letting Charlie have the upper hand, but always careful never to hurt him. He’ll be amazing with our kids when they’re little, just as I’d hoped.

I sit at my desk and look at real estate listings. I’m just waiting on Rosalie to decide what she wants to do, but if we stay in Knoxville, I plan to put an offer down on a house this winter. I want to propose to her in our own home at Christmas.

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