Dear Rosie, (Love Letters #2)

I hold open the restaurant door and guide her in before me.

I know that her moving back into her own apartment wouldn’t mean our relationship is over. She was only meant to stay for three weeks. But there’s something… something I can’t put my finger on that makes it all feel so huge. Like her leaving would be the worst thing in the world.

Like if I let her walk out my door, I’ll never see her again.

ONE HUNDRED THIRTY

ROSALYN

My wide-legged jeans swoosh around my feet, hiding my ankle brace, as I step into the restaurant.

Nathan said it was a nice farm-to-table place but that jeans were perfectly acceptable. He wore a pair too, with a black T-shirt, so I believed him. But I still do a quick visual sweep of the dining room to confirm he was telling the truth.

The place has that vibe that’s hard to explain. Like everyone looks rich, but they’re all dressed in plain clothes. The kind that cost just as much as the flashy designer brands, only they wouldn’t dare put a logo across their purse.

Glad I wore my fancier white shirt with the flowy arms, I press my plain leather clutch to my side.

Nathan leads us to the hostess station. “We’re here for the Waller reservation.”

The smile the young hostess gives him is nothing short of adoration, and I get it.

I look at him like that too.

“The rest of your party is already seated,” she tells him, not even glancing at me. “I’ll lead you back.”

We follow her through the dimly lit dining room. The Edison bulbs fit the renovated farmhouse aesthetic, and I’m too busy looking around at the decor to notice the table she’s leading us to until we’re stopping before it.

And thefourpeople seated there.

ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-ONE

NATE

Beside me, Rosie tenses, her fingernails digging into my forearm.

I flex my arm, pinning her wrist to my side, trying to give her comfort without making it obvious.

“Mind if we join you?” I smile at my parents.

My mom makes a squeal of excitement, not having noticed our approach. But then she and Dad are pushing their chairs back to stand.

The other couple, a little older than my parents, also rise. And I recognize them but can’t quite place them.

Mom grabs my cheeks, and I’m forced to let go of Rosie as she pulls me down to her much shorter height.

“My baby,” she coos as I hug her.

“Hi, Mom.”

She pats my back, then releases me, only to squeeze my cheeks again. “It’s been too long.”

“That’s enough now. Let the boy go.” Dad shoulders in between us, giving me his signature bear hug.

Unlike my mom, Dad is nearly my height, and when he pats my back, it knocks some of the air out of my lungs.

“Hey, Dad.” I keep my arm around his shoulder as I angle away,reaching my other hand out to Rosie’s shoulder. “This is Rosie. Rosie, my parents.”

Rosie looks a little pale, and I wonder if my idea of familial affection is going to have the opposite effect. But it’s too late to go back, because Mom is already stepping into Rosie’s personal space, pulling her into a hug.