T’es fou, mon petit chou. It’s an expression my mother used to use when I was little and I would be acting silly or getting upset for no reason. If she were here right now, she’d be whispering it in my ear. And it would be valid because I have no idea why I feel the need to keep Rose away from Jordan’s carpenter, but I need to do it like I need to breathe air. Luckily, she doesn’t protest. When we finally see Devin, leaning against a pillar talking to Cole and Jordan, she shakes free of my grip and marches past me to Devin. I join them and casually block her way back to that Cooper guy.
“How ya doing, littlest Caplan?” Devin asks jovially, and lifts her off the ground in a hug.
“I’m great!” She smiles. “Having a great night. How’s Conner? How’s Ashleigh?”
“Conner is great! He’s so talkative now and he never walks anymore, only runs. Everywhere.” Devin smiles broadly as he discusses his son. “I hear we’re officially becoming relatives.”
“Yeah.” Rose reaches over and punches Jordan’s arm playfully. They talk for a few more minutes about hockey, what Callie is up to in L.A., and Cole’s wedding, then Rose hugs him again.
“Got to go! Left some friends over by the dance floor.” She turns and I’m blocking her way, just as I planned. I reach out and grab her hand again.
“First let’s get a drink!” I say and pull her toward the bar before she can argue. I ignore the raised eyebrow from Devin. When I reach the bar I order two Coronas and turn to face her. She’s standing behind me with her arms crossed.
“I don’t want a drink, Luc. I want to go.”
“You really want to hang out with the contractor guy?” I blurt out, shocking both her and myself.
“I think he likes me,” she responds quietly, her eyes on the bar behind me.
That revelation drops like a bomb in the pit of my stomach. Of course he likes her. He’s seen her almost every day for a couple of months so he knows she’s fucking amazing.
“And what? You like him?” My voice is dark and rough because I’m suddenly parched.
She doesn’t say anything at first, and the longer it takes her to answer, the harder it is for me to breathe. I realize I’m in serious fucking trouble here. Something is shifting between us—right here in the middle of this overcrowded bar—and I can’t stop it. It feels like I’m tied to railroad tracks as the light of an oncoming train draws closer and closer.
“I like the idea that someone likes me.”
“I like you.” I shouldn’t have said it.
Her deep, dark eyes land on me and study my face. She’s doing that thing only she can do to me where it feels like she’s stepped inside my head and she’s exploring all my secrets. I panic. “Who needs that guy when you’ve got me to pal around with?”
Her whole body tightens in anger at that but my mouth isn’t done doing damage, apparently. “Rose, he’s a little bit… old for you, don’t you think?”
She makes a face—a shocked, angry face that says “how dare you” and “fuck you” at the very same time. “He’s twenty-eight. Big deal.”
“You’re barely twenty-one.” Did I really just say that? Why the hell did I just say that? It’s ridiculous. What is wrong with me?
Her dark eyes are burning with anger. “First of all, I’ll be twenty-two in less than a week. Second of all, go fuck yourself.”
She spins on her wedge sandals and starts to bolt. I leave the Coronas on the bar and chase after her. When I touch her shoulder, she jerks away like my touch burned her. Her expression is dark and angry, to say the least.
“I don’t want you to be my father or even my brother,” she confesses to me in an uneven voice. “I fucking hate it, Luc.”
“I’m sorry. I know I’m not your father or brother. I just want to be a good friend,” I mumble because the words sound lame, even to me, especially as I look at her beautiful face and feel that now all too familiar urge to reach out and touch her in a way that is not at all about friendship.
“I’m going to go spend time with someone who wants to be more than my friend,” she replies firmly, even though she kind of looks like she wants to cry.
“I don’t like the idea of you with him.” It feels like the whole world freezes as soon as the words escape my mouth. Nothing between us will ever be the same again. I know it and I hate it.
She stares at me and blinks. “So do something about it.”
That’s when it dawns on me. I’m not the one tied to the railroad tracks; she is. And I can’t do the one thing that will keep her from getting crushed. I can’t answer her challenge.
“Rosie, it’s not you. I just…”
“Just shut up,” she whispers hoarsely. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Your actions speak for themselves.”
She walks away and I want nothing more than to follow her. I promised myself that I would always protect her and now I’m hurting her. I wanted to leave that to someone else. I didn’t want to be the one to disappoint her, but somehow I am. I do nothing but fuck things up, personally and professionally. I can’t fucking win.