100. Rosalyn

ONE HUNDRED

ROSALYN

"Nathan, what's the address here?" I call across to the kitchen.

"What for?"

I look up from my place on the couch. "Kidnap much?"

He smiles as he pours two cups of coffee at the island, and I'm grateful we're past the days of Nathan telling me I can't have caffeine.

"I'm ordering groceries," I explain.

"Beautiful, I told you I'd get you whatever you want."

There he goes. Using that damn nickname.

"It's not for me." I focus on the conversation. "I need to do a bunch of prep today for that fundraiser tomorrow night." I remind him of the conversation we had last night.

He hums. "Was everything you need on that menu spreadsheet?"

My mouth opens and closes. "I'm sorry, what?"

Nathan sets the coffee carafe down and looks at me. "I sent the girls to the store with the list." He glances at the clock on one of his ovens. "They should be here any minute."

I look at my laptop, sitting on the cushion beside me. "That spreadsheet is on my laptop. It's password protected." I'm saying this mostly to myself. Because the laptop is also password protected.

"If there was something else you needed, we can order it." He ignores the whole breaking into my laptop thing. "And they're both good in the kitchen, so they can help you, since Presley is out of town visiting her mom."

"Nathan Waller." Using his full name gets his attention. "Who are these girls you're talking about? And why are you talking to my Presley?"

"Rosie Posie." He fights a smile as he carries both coffees toward the living room. "Presley called me to see how you were doing because she doesn't trust you to tell her the truth." He lifts an eyebrow at me, and I don't bother responding. "And the girls"—there's a knock on the door—"are here."

He turns back around and deposits the mugs on the island.

"Nathan," I hiss as I climb to my feet. "I'm not dressed for company."

"You look perfect," he says without even looking at me.

"I look like a troll," I grumble under my breath. And Nathan smothers a laugh.

I'm wearing a pair of black leggings under my ankle brace, which is fine. But my soft, no-padding bralette and strappy gray tank top are not company appropriate. My girls require a lot more support if they're going to be around other people.

Not to mention, I've had zero beauty routine, beyond using Nathan's deodorant, since I got here.

I watch Nathan's ass as he walks toward the door in another pair of sweatpants, and I have to think those aren't for company either.

Freaking perfect Nathan.

I've never felt more comfortable around anyone before in my life. But I've also never felt more possessive.

I reach up and tighten my ponytail, thankful I've at least showered in the last twenty-four hours.

Nathan opens the door, and I squeeze the handles of my crutches, prepared to be confronted by beautiful women in business suits or dresses or something. But that's not who enters.

"Mama Ruth. Smidge." Nathan holds his arms out. "You two are the literal best."

A woman in her sixties, dressed in loose-fitting jeans and a Biters T-shirt, steps into the condo first. She's followed by a girl with dark brown hair, green shorts, and a tie-dye tank top, who must be somewhere between a tween and a teen.

The elder of the pair steps forward to accept Nathan's hug. "Oh, Nate. You're always such a sweetheart."

The girl next to her rolls her eyes. "We're not supposed to fall for the charms of men. Remember, Grandma."

The woman/grandma/Mama Ruth steps back with a chuckle. "That rule is for young people."

Nathan holds out his fist. "To never falling for men."

The girl bumps her fist against his. "Deal." Then the girl reaches behind her. "Now make way. We have cold stuff out here."

Nathan backs up, holding the door wide, and the girl drags a wagon into view.

It's overflowing with grocery bags and has to weigh twice as much as she does, but instead of the teen crankiness one might expect, this girl is grinning.

I want to say something, maybe introduce myself, but I feel so awkward that I just stay put. Frozen in front of the couch.

Until Nathan swings the door shut behind the girls and gestures toward me. "Ladies, please allow me to introduce you to my girlfriend, Rosie."

The gasp that comes out of the older woman would make me laugh if my body wasn't too busy reacting to Nathan calling me his girlfriend.

He told me we were dating.

I agreed.

But hearing him say it…

I roll my lips together, then work on forming my mouth into a smile. "Hi."

"Oh my gosh."

That's all the warning I get before the older woman is hustling across the great room toward me.

"You are so pretty." Her voice catches, and I think she might be crying.

I freeze, completely unsure of how to react. But the woman isn't deterred .

Sturdy arms wrap around me, trapping my arms at my sides—where I'm still clutching my crutches.

"I didn't know our Natey Boy had a girlfriend!"

I look at Nathan over her shoulder and mouth Natey Boy .

He rolls his eyes, but the effect is lost since he's smiling.

"Rosie, this is Ruth, Hannah's mom." Nathan walks toward us. "And the little gremlin setting up in your kitchen is Chelsea, Hannah's niece."

Still stuck in the embrace, I look over to where the young teen is putting the groceries on the counter. Now that Nathan's introduced them, I remember seeing them both during the party at the Lovelace house.

And then my cheeks flash pink because of how I ended the night at the Lovelace house.

"Nice to officially meet you both." I repeat their names in my head so I don't forget.

"It's our pleasure." Ruth steps back and squeezes my upper arms before letting go and wiping at her eyes.

Nathan clicks his tongue as he steps up beside Ruth and puts his arm around her shoulders. "Now, now, stop acting like I was never going to find a woman."

Ruth swats at him with a sniffle.

"There's a difference between finding and keeping," Chelsea points out from the kitchen.

I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

Nathan winks at me, then turns to face the girl, slapping a hand to his chest. "Do you doubt me, oh wee one?"

Chelsea lifts a shoulder. "Just saying."

"Uh-huh. Just saying my ass."

"Nathan," I scold, not sure if he should be swearing in front of this girl.

He grins at me. "I put a hundred in her swear jar at the beginning of every month."

I look at the girl. "That true?"

She nods .

"Well, fuckity shits on a stick." I turn back to Nathan. "Give her another hundred."

The girl lets out a whoop.

"I like her," Ruth says while looking at me.

It's the simplest of compliments. She doesn't even know me. But Ruth radiates a sort of maternal warmth that I want to curl up in.

I want to let her like me.

"Thanks," I whisper.

Nathan's expression softens, and he closes the distance between us, placing his palm on my spine. "Come on, Girlfriend. Let's get you all set up."