Dear Rosie, (Love Letters #2)

I folded Rosie’s clothes—minus her panties—and set them on the chair in the corner of the room.

I can see them right now.

They’re still there.

But I still half expect her to walk out of my bathroom fully dressed—in the clothes I can see—declaring that she’ll find her own way home.

The door clicks open, and I try to stay relaxed.

I’m lying in bed, one arm bent back behind my head against my pillow, the other resting on my chest, wearing a pair of gray pajama pants, same as the ones I gave Rosie.

She steps into the bedroom.

I didn’t turn any lights on, but I didn’t shut the curtains either, so I can still see her.

And the sight of her in my clothes causes something to shift inside me.

“Come here.” My voice is scratchy.

She hesitates, but it’s only for a moment.

Rosie crosses to the empty side of the bed, the closest to the bathroom, and pulls the blankets back.

Six years.

I swallow.

If she hasn’t slept with a man in six years, then she hasn’tsleptwith a man in six years. Because there’s no way a warm-blooded male would be able to share a bed with Rosie and not fuck her.

Rosie is giving me so much by staying. Even if she thinks I don’t understand.

But I do understand. Even without her telling me. I know her staying is a big deal.

After another second of hesitating, she climbs in.

I wait, but she settles against the pillow, facing me.

“I said come here.” I pat my hand against my bare chest.

She huffs, but I lift the arm closest to her, making room.

Slowly, Rosie shuffles closer until her front is against my side.

I lower my arm until it’s around her shoulders, then I pull her even closer.

Her exhale is warm on my bare skin.

I move my other arm out from behind my head so I can reach across and palm the back of Rosie’s.

I apply a small amount of pressure, and she finally relaxes her muscles and rests her head against my chest.

A satisfied moan rumbles in my chest, and I slide my hand down her hair, down her shoulder and arm, stopping when my fingers find hers.

I hug her even tighter against me with the arm around her back as I wrap my fingers around hers, holding our hands together on my stomach.

This moment feels surreal.

More surreal than when I had her under me.