Rosalie’s sitting cross-legged in the passenger seat, surrounded by food. Her Coke is in the cupholder by her knee. Her pancakes are on the dash. A hash brown is on her thigh and her breakfast sandwich is in her hand.
She scoffs around a big bite. “Like honey or sweetie?”
I shrug, keeping one hand on the wheel as I drive while sipping coffee from the other. “Whatever you want.”
“Pookie bear.” Rosalie giggles between sips of her soda. “Love muffin.”
I grimace, and it makes her laugh harder.
I fucking love seeing her like this.
Happy. Free. Kinda-sorta mine, at least for the time being.
She still has the pregnancy suit on, and the belly bounces with her laughter. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the illusion. It’s easy to get carried away and picture her as mine forever.
Slipping that ring on her finger felt right, and I want it to stay there.
“But seriously,” she says. “I’ve always wanted to call someone ‘babe.’ How about that?”
“Babe is good,” I respond.
Better than good, actually. Something I could get used to.
Rosalie suddenly makes an alarmed noise, and when I look over at her, the color has drained from her face. As she takes the sunglasses off, she stares straight ahead through the windshield as if she’s looking death in the face.
“Sorry,” I say, glancing at the expanse of water in front of us. The lake is just beyond the street we’re approaching. “Close your eyes if you have to. We’ll get past it soon.”
“Where are we?” Rosalie asks, nervously toying with the plastic straw in her drink.
“The southern coast of Lake Michigan.”
“We’re not going to go over it or anything, right? No more bridges.”
“Nope, and we won’t be here long. There’s just somewhere special I want to see as we drive by it.”
Relaxing a little, she nibbles on her hash brown. “Where?”
“There.” I take a left and point at the lighthouse in the distance. “I usually stop here when I’m in the area.”
“But we’re not stopping?”
“Nah. I’ll just look this time.”
“This place is special to you,” Rosalie concludes, and I nod. She curiously tilts her head. “Why?”
I want to tell her about the lighthouse puzzle and my tragic loss of it, but I can’t get the words out.
I thought I was over that shit, but for some reason, Rosalie makes me feel exposed and vulnerable. My throat’s closing up in a way that’s unfamiliar. Like I might fucking cry.
I’m not about to give Rosalie some sob story when I’m supposed to be showing her a good time, so I shrug it off. “I’ve just got a thing for lighthouses.”
“Then you should go there.”
“It’s on the water,” I inform her. “Like right up against it. The ledge drops off on the other side of the building.”
“Okay.” She swallows audibly. “I can do it for you.”
I glance at her eyes and notice they’re steely with a mixture bravery and determination, and damn if that doesn’t put a crack in my black heart. “You sure?”
“Uh huh.”
The tall landmark looms over us as we get closer. It’s beautiful, with a white tower, red railings around the platform at the top, and a roof so blue it blends in with the cloudless sky beyond.
By the time we roll up to the parking spot near a gift shop extension of the lighthouse, Rosalie’s looking like she might puke her food back up.
“Baby, it’s okay.” I rub her knee, hoping to soothe her. Much to my surprise, she tangles her hand with mine and squeezes.
She sucks in a breath, then blows it out. “You want to go inside the store?”
“I won’t leave you out here by yourself.”
“I’ll go with you.” At my raised eyebrows, she insists, “I—I want to. I mean, what are the chances I’ll be here ever again? I need to seize these opportunities. And you’ve done so much for me already…”
Looking back at the store, I observe the floor-to-ceiling windows that wrap all the way around it. The design is meant to give a panoramic view, so you feel like you’re on the water. Not exactly something Rosalie would normally volunteer for.
But she’s doing it.
For me, and for herself.
It’d be a risk to take her out, but there aren’t many people around.
Two customers are milling about the merchandise. Behind the counter, the clerk seems bored, with his college-aged face buried in his phone. For black Friday, the place is pretty dead. I guess most people are doing their shopping at big department stores.
“All right,” I tell Rosalie, earning a wobbly smile from her. “Sunglasses stay on and stay close to me. Don’t talk to anyone.”
She’s so fucking cute when she mimes zipping up her lips.
Once we walk around to the front of the car, Rosalie automatically slips her hand into mine. Her skin is clammy, and she holds on tight, but she doesn’t waver in her decision to go ahead with this.
We make our way across the parking lot, and I open the door for her like a husband would for his wife.
Rosalie immediately swivels to the right, purposely keeping her back to the lake view. It puts her in front of a section with rows of T-shirts, other apparel, and lighthouse-themed trinkets.
“Oh,” Rosalie breathes out when she sees glass shelves full of snow globes.
Dragging me with her, she flits around, touching everything. She’s light on her feet, almost doing a combination of tiptoeing and skipping at the same time as she glides her fingertips over various fabrics and textures.
She stops dead in her tracks by a spinning case of jewelry.
“See anything you like?” I ask, and she glances back at me with a smile, the sparkles reflecting in her aviators.
“All of it.”
Directly in front of her face, there’s a lighthouse necklace. It’s a silver charm with cubic zirconia where the shining light should be. Dangling, it sways, catching glints from the florescent bulbs above us.
I take it off the rack. “I’m buying this for you.”
“Really?” Even behind the dark lenses, I can see Rosalie’s eyes are wide with genuine surprise.
Before she can object, I grab a couple of T-shirts in our sizes, too. On our way to the counter, I spy a puzzle on a table full of kid stuff. Toys and such. The puzzle is only five hundred pieces, and it’s not like the one I had when I was young, but I’m getting it anyway.
Two people are in front of us in the checkout line, and since we’re facing the lake while we wait, Rosalie turns and fiddles with some sunglasses on a stand. As if I’m drawn to her, I pivot so I’m standing right behind her.
God, her hair. It’s so shiny and silky. Unable to help myself, I softly run my fingers over the braid down her back. So smooth and cool between my fingers. A shiver runs through me, and I almost shudder.
What I wouldn’t give to feel it framing my face as Rosalie rides me. Better yet, I can picture her on me reverse cowgirl, with the long strands tickling my stomach.
“Excuse me.” A voice comes from my left, but I ignore it because she can’t be talking to us. It’s not our turn yet. But it comes again. “Excuse me, you two. Sir? Ma’am?”