22. Nate

TWENTY-TWO

NATE

I stare at the back of the closed pantry door.

It can't be…

My eyes drop to my hand, still half raised in the air.

But it was.

That was her.

I know it was.

I remember…

I swallow against the growing tightness in my throat.

I remember her.

I remember her now.

But… I'd forgotten.

I lift my hand higher.

I'd forgotten about Rosie.

How could I have forgotten about Rosie?

My heart thumps inside my chest.

I remember now.

And she remembers me too.

My heart thuds loudly behind my ribs.

I know she knows.

Even if she hadn't recognized me when she first saw me, I introduced myself…

She did too.

But she called herself Rosalyn.

I called myself Nate.

But I can feel it. That knowledge. That awareness.

I can see it now.

She knew it was me all night.

And she didn't say anything.

My Rosie didn't say anything. And when I figured it out, she ran.

And I don't understand why.

We were friends.

It's been… twenty-five years, but we'd been friends.

I think about the last time I saw her.

How I'd told her we were moving the next day.

How she cried.

I haven't thought about Rosie in so long.

That tightness moves down my throat into my chest.

She was my best friend for those few years we knew each other.

And then I had to move.

And…

I remember leaving her that letter in the woods.

Remember tucking it under the bag of marshmallows.

Fucking marshmallows.

I'd forgotten about those too.

I haven't had a marshmallow in so long.

Until tonight.

I think about that. About the dessert Rosie made.

Did she make them because she still loves them?

Did she think about me while she made them?

Something twists inside me at the thought that maybe she's thought about me all these years, when I forgot.

I look back at my fingers, still shiny with her slick.

What a turn the night has taken.

I fingered Rosie Edwards without even knowing it .

I glance at the closed door, then, remembering how her body reacted to my touch, I shove my two fingers into my mouth.

The taste of her settles on my tongue.

My pretty Little Rose, tasting like home.

Maybe I didn't know who she was this time, but the next time I have my hand down Rosie's pants, I'll have her screaming my name.

Using my free hand, I adjust myself, then follow Rosie's route out of the pantry.

Hands washed and clothes straightened, I rest my hip against the counter across from the dishwasher.

I already planned to spend the night on the couch in Maddox's library, so with nothing else to do, I pull the business card out of my pocket and wait for the dishwasher to finish.

Hannah gave me this card.

I run my thumb over the raised letters.

Letters spelling out Rosalyn's Restaurant .