121. Rosalyn

ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-ONE

ROSALYN

I heave out a breath, then answer Nathan's call.

"Morning, Rosie Posie." He's grinning at me. Like he knows I'm still processing his little declaration of love yesterday.

And, of course, I'm still processing.

Who drops the L bomb randomly like that?

Did he say it because he really believes he loves me? Or was he just saying it to get that Cindy woman to back off?

And why would he need to say something so drastic to get her to leave him alone?

What sort of history do they have? Because they have to have some sort of history, or else she wouldn't have said catch up like she did.

"Show me your feet." Nathan is still smiling.

I roll my eyes and tap the screen to turn on the front-facing camera.

I'm on the couch, with my feet propped up on a pillow on top of the coffee table.

"Following doctor's orders," I tell him dryly. Then I pan to my lap, where Charles is lying on his back, his head between my knees and his feet in the air. "We both are."

Nathan laughs, then coos, "Aw, look at you two. "

I flip the camera back so it's facing me.

He's in his hotel room, dressed, but the top buttons of his shirt are still open, and he's lounging on his bed.

"Have you slept with Cindy?" I can't contain the question any longer. I need to know.

"No. Never." His smile dims. "Have you been worried about that all night?"

I lift a shoulder.

"Rosie." He holds a hand against his chest. "I've never so much as kissed that woman. Or anyone else at this conference."

I bite my lip. "Have you ever cheated on anyone?"

He shakes his head, but it's a slow shake. "I have not. But there have been a few women in college who thought we were dating when we weren't, so they might argue otherwise. But I've never cheated on a girlfriend."

I screw up my face. "That's… very honest."

He chuckles, but it's lacking humor. "Price of fame. You can find all sorts of stories, true and false, on the internet. So there's no point in lying."

Something that's not quite pity settles against me. "I hadn't thought of that." My shoulders slump. "Sorry, I just… It's been a long time since I've been in a relationship."

"Me too, Beautiful. But I'm not going to fuck this up. Not with anyone here. Not with anyone anywhere." He sits up straighter. "I know this is new, you and me. But I'll prove myself to you. Prove you can trust me."

His words make my chest hurt as guilt floods me. "I trust you." My voice cracks a little, and I swallow. "I trust you more than I've ever trusted anyone. I just… I just hated the way that woman sounded talking to you. Like she knew you," I admit, giving him some of that trust. "I've never felt jealousy like I did yesterday on the phone with you. And after, well… I just couldn't let it go. I'm sorry."

Nathan shakes his head. "Don't apologize. I promise to never give you a reason to be jealous, but that doesn't mean I don't like it."

"You like me being jealous?" My brows furrow .

"Yeah, Rosie. Call me an asshole, but I like you being heated over another woman trying to talk to me."

"Why?" I ask, not understanding.

"Because it means you care."

My shoulders drop. "I do care. I care about you a lot, Nathan."

"I know you do." His smile is so kind. So forgiving.

Something starts beeping in his room.

"Shit, I gotta go." He glances down at his watch. "Give that cat some belly scratches for me."

I force a smile on my face. "I will."

"Bye, Beautiful. I'll call tonight. And stop worrying. And keep that foot up."

"Promise," I whisper, then he's gone.

I stare at my screen, where Nathan's face used to be, and I think about that word again.

Love.

I think about how much I want to say it to him.

How I want to ask if he really meant it.

But the hope of that…

The hope of love…

The hope of a future. Of happiness.

God, it fucking hurts.

Because that's all it will ever be.

Hope.

Because you can't build a life on a secret.

Because secrets are fragile.

And eventually, they crumble.

Taking everything else with them.

I answer Nathan's call, with my camera already pointed at my foot—propped on a pillow—as I lie in bed.

We spoke again last night. It was light but a little subdued since we were both tired and it was late .

But I want to keep the mood upbeat today.

I already feel like I'm failing as a girlfriend, causing Nathan nothing but stress, and I don't want to be that person for him. I want to be his happy place, like he is for me.

"Usually people would have to pay for all these feet pics." I let him hear my smile as I say it.

"Oh, I know. I've been selling these screenshots for big bucks online."

I snort and turn the camera back on myself. "I expect a cut."

"Fifty-fifty?" Nathan offers.

"Hmm." I tap my chin. "I was thinking more like eighty-twenty. Since they're my feet and all."

Nathan narrows his eyes. "Seventy-thirty."

"Seventy-five and you have a deal."

He holds his hand out to the camera, like he's offering to shake my hand. "Deal."

I stick my hand out too, and we pretend to shake on it.

"Give me your info, and I'll transfer you seventy-five cents." He grins.

I laugh. "You've only made a dollar? My feet must be worse than I thought."

"Your feet are adorable."

I scrunch my nose. "Adorable?"

"Uh-huh. I've never really understood the whole foot fetish thing, but now…" He gives a thoughtful look. "If you asked, I'd be willing to put your big toe in my mouth."

"Oh my god!" I recoil against my pillow. "Why would I want you to?"

"You tell me. It's your toe."

I shake my head. "You are unhinged."

"You're the one asking me to suck on your toes."

"I certainly did not ask that," I argue, then I put my hand up to stop the conversation. "How's the convention going?"

Nathan groans. "I'm surrounded by fucking nerds."

I laugh. "Hate to break it to you, Mr. CEO…"

"You wouldn't dare. "

I smirk. "Only a couple days left, then you can go hang out with Maddox and talk about football until your chest is covered in so much hair we can sell pics of it for money."

"True, true." He sighs and runs a hand over his sternum.

I shake my head. This man is so weird.

Nathan tilts his head, getting a look in his eyes. "You're still thinking about me sucking on your toes, aren't you?"

"Goodbye, Nathan."

"One sec." I answer Nathan's video call on my laptop, then go back to my Word doc.

He's silent for a few moments as I type before he speaks. "What are you working on?"

I hit save, then minimize the screen, revealing Nathan's curious face. "Stuff," I say, just to be a pest. "You all done for the night? No fancy dinners?"

I'm lying in bed, back propped against the pillows, already in my pajamas. And Nathan is lying front side down on his bed, bare chest propped up on a pillow, wet hair slicked back, with a few stragglers loose around his temples.

And my god, he's good looking.

He shakes his head. "Told everyone who invited me out that I had other plans already."

"And your plans were to lie naked on your bed, talking to me?"

He smirks. "I've got my undies on." I snort at him calling them undies. "And I grabbed a sandwich from downstairs on my way up. I'm so done with people, I didn't even want to order room service."

"I don't know how you do it. Just one day of those crowds, and I'd be hiding under my blankets."

Nathan props his chin in his hand, and it makes me want to reach out and scratch my fingers through his facial hair. "It's not so bad. I got used to a lot of bullshit and attention during my football days. But I deal with the public a lot less now and definitely have a shorter fuse. And the novelty has kinda worn off. I'd rather be home."

Under the handsomeness, I notice he looks tired. And that makes me want to give him a hug.

But I can't, so I give him the next best thing. The truth.

"I miss you."

His smile is slow. "I miss you too." My heart skips a beat because I know he means it. "Now, tell me what you're working on."

I huff. "You're so nosy."

"I know. Now tell me so I don't have to hack into your computer."

I narrow my gaze at him. "Can you really do that?" Then I remember him getting my grocery list off my laptop and decide he probably already has.

Charles chooses this moment to climb onto my chest, putting himself between me and my laptop.

"Hey, little man. How was your day?" Nathan asks his cat.

Charles turns to face the screen and meows loudly.

"Just one more sleep, bud," Nathan tells him in reply, reminding me that he's coming home tomorrow.

"Is it really okay that you're skipping dinner the last night?" I ask him over Charles's back.

"CEO, remember? I don't need to suck up to anyone."

"True." I run a hand down the cat's back. Then I sigh. "I'm working on that cookbook."

Nathan's brows raise. "Your own cookbook?"

I press my lips together and nod.

The image on-screen tips up to Nathan's ceiling, spins around, then it's back on him as he sits up straight on the bed. "That's amazing! Tell me what you've got so far."

His excitement goes straight to my heart.

So I tell him.

And when he keeps asking questions, I share my screen with him.

And when I do that, he insists on switching from his phone to his laptop so he can see better.

And then we spend the next two hours talking about my cookbook. From chapter titles to the idea of brand deals to the photographers Nathan thinks will be good for still shots…

"This is all still just an idea," I remind him.

He shakes his head. "It's more than an idea, Rosie. You're already doing it."

He's so… excited.

And the warmness of his excitement settles into the center of my chest.

"Thank you." I try to keep my tone light.

"Don't thank me. You're doing all the work."

"Only because of your support." I force myself to keep my eyes on the screen. On Nathan. "No one has ever believed in me like you do."

His throat moves on a swallow. "I'll always be your person."

"I know," I say quietly.

"I think I know what you should title the book."

The side of my mouth pulls up. "And what's that?"

"Rosalyn's Recipes."

It's simple.

It's a mimic of my catering company.

"It's perfect."