104. Rosalyn

ONE HUNDRED FOUR

ROSALYN

"God damn!" Nathan's exclamation startles me into dropping my earring on the counter.

I slap one hand over my heart as I pick it back up. "Jesus, Nathan."

"Sorry." He whistles. "But. God. Damn."

I watch him approach in the reflection of the bathroom mirror.

His eyes are all over the place. From my head to my feet and back again.

The reaction seems like a bit much, but I still soak it in.

My hair is pulled back into a low bun, with a few loose strands curled into waves. My face is done up in a full routine of makeup. And I'm wearing the most sparkly thing I own.

The color theme of the fundraiser is gold, so I have a gold dress on.

I bought the thing last year for a New Year's party I was supposed to work. The event was canceled at the last minute, so I never got to wear it.

"What is this made out of?" Nathan stops right behind me, hands holding my waist, helping me balance on my good foot.

"No idea." I try to focus on putting my—also gold—dangly earring in. "I take it you like it?"

"Like it? Woman, I want to peel it off you with my teeth. "

I smile. "That will have to wait until after."

Earrings secured, I run my hands down the front of the dress.

It's sleeveless with a V neckline. The underdress is a lighter gold that ends just above my knees. And then there's a sheer golden layer over top, covered in gold embroidery and fake crystals.

If I was going anywhere else, I'd say it's too fancy. But I think I can get away with it tonight.

Nathan uses his hold on me to turn me around and back me against the counter. "How am I supposed to be professional around you when you're dressed like this?"

I run my palms up his chest, noting he looks pretty fine himself in black pants, a black and gold belt, and a partially unbuttoned white shirt. "You could solve that problem by not coming."

Today was another day where Nathan surprised me with his kindness. But I think it probably says more about me and my trauma that I allow myself to be surprised when he's just being his usual nice self.

Nathan spent all afternoon helping Ruth and me in the kitchen.

He brought up all my travel tubs from my van. Which is parked downstairs. Because back when I was still in the hospital, he arranged to have it brought here—instead of to my house, where I assumed it was.

It still has a banged-up bumper, but it drives just fine.

Then, an hour ago, Nathan announced he'll be my assistant tonight.

I tried to fight it.

Tried to picture the Nate Waller acting as my catering assistant.

But no matter what I said, he insisted. He also claims to have cleared it with the event space.

So Nathan and I are about to head out, dressed up, with him driving my catering van.

I press my lips together and slowly inhale through my nose.

Nathan's support is the thing dreams are made of.

And before I wake up from this heaven, I need him to know.

"Thank you," I whisper. "You've already done so much… I can never thank you enough."

Nathan settles his hands on either side of my neck, his skin so warm against mine. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, Pretty Rosie."

I swallow.

Then I swallow again.

Because he just might be telling me the truth.

And that's as terrifying as it is wonderful.