Page 64 of The Inevitable Us

“Yes, Rosalie’s staying for now,” I say. I wouldn’t promise she’s staying long-term, but she is staying for now. “If you’ll excuse me, Ma’am, I need to debrief the next shift.”

She gives me a dismissive wave, and I nod goodbye to her and turn on my heel to return to the foreman’s cottage.

We’re looking at homes as often as Rosalie sees a new home listed, but we’ve not yet fallen in love with one. I want one on a quiet street where our kids can ride their bikes, but all the houses we’ve seen that were ok had busy streets or didn’t have a yard big enough for Ranger.

Kids. I find myself thinking of them more and more. I find myself wanting the connection with Rosalie, wondering if our kids would look like my nieces or Rosalie’s family. Rosalie had mentioned the week before her shot was due that she had an appointment…. I’d fucked her nonstop in the mere hope she was like my sister, and it would wear off early. Instead, she’d come home with a fresh shot, preventing conception for another twelve weeks. I’d watched the dads at the park down the street, hating every second of those twelve weeks. I want to do things right…to give her my name, to build our relationship. Still, an unsettling tingling comes from the base of my spine every time I come inside of her, hoping somehow that this might be the time my seed takes root. It’s something I want desperately with Rosalie.

But right now, my primary focus is on a house. I don’t like how Keaton looks at Rosalie when he gets a brief glimpse of her from time to time like he’s trying to figure her out or place her. He’s never worked for Ethan directly, but there’s every possibility he’s worked for someone associated with Rosalie’s father, and he’s trying to place her. I can’t prove it, but I think he was trying to access the paper employee files Jay, Taylee’s manager, keeps in his office in the main house. The bodyguard files are all in my office downtown, which means he was snooping on an employee of the ranch itself. Call it intuition, but every fiber of my being tells me he was looking into Rosalie. Taylee prefers cameras to be kept out of certain living areas, so I wasn’t able to check the feed in Jay’s office. It just reaffirmed my belief that it’s time for us to live elsewhere.

Which is why I’m giving Taylee notice that we’re moving now. If I can’t find a house to buy soon, we’re moving anyway into a rental.

Chapter thirty-two

Rosalie

MyFallBreakfromschool comes all too soon. We spend Thanksgiving Day with Sawyer’s family since Nate played a game in Florida. My parents are attending with some of my other siblings. Things have slowly warmed up with us, but they’re still very concerned that I’m in so deep with Sawyer so quickly.

I try not to consider the fact that today, the day after Thanksgiving, is called “Black Friday,” as we drive the three hours to my childhood home for a late Thanksgiving lunch. I spend the drive with a knot in my stomach, hoping everything goes well.

Sawyer laces our fingers together in his right hand and rests our hands on his thigh. So much for driving with his hands at nine and three o’clock all the time. “Your dad and I will be cool, Rosalie. It’ll all work out,” he reassures me for the hundredth time as we drive down the interstate with Ranger and the kittens in the back.

After dropping the kittens and dog off at Sawyer’s uncle’s house, we pull into the drive of my childhood home. Sawyer punches the code my parents gave us to open the gates.

We’re the last to arrive. Nate’s truck is parked in the circle drive, and Josie’s small SUV is parked to the side where the guards usually park, next to Creekman. A third vehicle, Sawyer’s old work SUV, is parked there, presumably driven by his replacement. Rory’s car is missing, probably parked inside the garage.

I’m nervous. It feels like such a big step, bringing Sawyer home for Thanksgiving. Especially since I know that while they’ve always trusted Sawyer, my parents disapprove of our relationship. This is only the second time someone’s brought home a date for the holidays.

Josie brought a boy home for Thanksgiving once. He’d arrived with a bottle of nice wine and a charming smile for my mother. Then my father brought him down to the infamous man cave to do god knows what. They’d been downstairs together for a long time. I’m not sure exactly what happened, but a few days later, Josie called crying because they’d broken up.

Sawyer and I didn’t bring wine to my mother, knowing that she doesn’t drink anything but cocktails anymore. After I let myself in, my mother’s eyes dart up to us from the stove. Josie’s sitting on the stool, her eyes darting back and forth between us all.

Sawyer wraps his arms around my waist possessively and pulls me close. “Hello, Tessa. It’s good to see you.”

She wipes her hands on her apron, her face uncertain, and pauses for a minute as if she has to think about how to proceed. “Hello, Sawyer,” she says in greeting before she walks up to us and wraps her hands around me. “Hello, Rosalie. Why don’t you and Sawyer come help Josie make the deviled eggs?”

Josie smiles in greeting and pushes the bowl closer to us. “Hey, Sawyer!” she says in greeting before biting her lip nervously. It is weird, Sawyer dressed casually in our kitchen, now one of us.

With my whole family and Sawyer, it’s a lot of eggs to make. Why is it that three eggs is a lot when you’re eating them for breakfast, but add mayonnaise and mustard, and you can eat six?

Sawyer and I sit next to Josie, filling deviled eggs carefully. His eyes keep darting to the basement door. “Where’re Nate and Rory?” Sawyer asks my mother.

“Oh, in the garage. They’re working on Rory’s car together.”

Sawyer nods knowingly before glancing at the basement door.

Unlike Josie’s boyfriends, Sawyer doesn’t wait to be invited into the man cave. He strides across the kitchen and slams the door behind himself. Impatient, loud steps sound on the stairs as he bounds down them.

Everyone stops what they’re doing with the first raised voices. The kitchen is dead silent as my mom, Josie, and I look at one another with saucered eyes, unsure what to think. We can hear yelling at one point, a few cuss words, and what sounds like a punch.

Biting my lip, I look at my mom for reassurance. Wordlessly, she pats my hand, comforting me.

“Were you watching her all these years?” my dad yells. His question was followed by the thump of a punch and the muffled sound of Sawyer grunting.

I jump from my seat, ready to go downstairs to break up the fight, but Mom shakes her head and gestures for me to stay seated with a nervous hand.

My hands shaking, I sit back down and busy myself filling the eggs with the mixture Mom had prepared earlier.

“Rosalie is a grown woman, and we deserve fucking privacy to get to know one another in peace without your….” Sawyer’s words are broken off again by the sound of another punch.

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