“I thought we only hired college kids in the summertime,” Bethany said brightly, smoothing the sleeve of her black coat.
Wes crossed his arms, as if he had all the time in the world. “That must be hard, considering you probably create winter wherever you go.”
She gasped. “Are you calling me an ice princess?”
“If the tiara fits.”
“I’ll take a tiara over your Clint Eastwood hand-me-downs.”
Wes tilted his head to the side. “Remind me who that is? He might be better known among your generation.”
“My—” Bethany cut herself off, closing her eyes and visibly composing herself. “I didn’t come here to play verbal tennis. I’m here to work. Stephen, do you have a spare hard hat?”
Dominic reached for the one in his truck bed, handing it to her. “Avoid the back bedroom. There are some loose floorboards.”
“Chivalry is not dead after all,” she said, popping on the yellow hat and tapping the top to press it down. All while smiling sweetly at Wes. “I wasn’t sure.”
Wes smiled back, but it fell away as soon as Bethany turned toward Dominic.
“Whatcha got there? Some kind of letter?”
His lips gave a wry twist. “Sounds like you know something about this.”
“I might,” she said breezily, patting his arm. “Need some help?”
“Depends.” Dominic swallowed, studying the blank page and willing words to appear. “Are you pulling for us?”
“I’m pulling for my friend’s happiness.”
He lifted his eyes to find Bethany wearing a serious expression.
“And I know you want to make her happy. I know it.”
Dominic could only nod. “I’ll take the help.”
Travis propped a hip against his taillight. “Roses are red. Violets are blue—”
“Shut it,” Dominic said, jabbing the pen into Travis’s side.
“Boys. If you please.” Bethany held up a hand and waited for silence. “You know what always gets me? When a man proves he’s paying attention.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “You taking notes back there, pudding? I’m assuming your knowledge of women is a zero. We can tick it up to one.”
“I already know what a woman like you wants. A sturdy broom to ride around on.”
“I hate him, Stephen,” Bethany whispered tightly.
“That’s enough, you two,” Stephen huffed, waving at the blank page. “Continue. I’m interested to hear this.”
“Right.” Bethany patted Dominic on the forearm. “A man who pays attention. I’m not just talking about knowing her favorite movie or how she takes her coffee. I’m talking about details. Little things that would slip under the radar—unless you’re the one who loves her. You would notice them.” She smiled. “Yes, the devil is definitely in the details. Did that help?”
“Not even a little bit,” Dominic answered.
“Well, I tried!” She whipped her coat back and swept toward the house. “Texas called, Wes. It wants its rodeo clown back.”
“Oz called. They’re missing a witch.”
Travis laughed. “Told you not to go there.”
“Are you crazy?” Wes said, taking off his hat and fanning himself with it. “I want to go there even more now.”
The voices around Dominic faded out until he couldn’t hear anyone’s but Rosie’s, traveling to him from the past. In the darkness of the Montauk hotel where they stayed on their honeymoon. Over the phone when he called her from Afghanistan, his heart tearing in half while listening to her try not to cry, telling him to be safe. In the mist of a breathless meeting in their shower, her back squeaking up and down on the tile. Details. Details. He had those.
Swallowing hard, Dominic picked up the pen and started to write.
Chapter Nine
Rosie’s heels clicked in the silence of the mall parking lot. The night breeze swirled around her calves and caressed her neck. She breathed it in deeply, grateful for fresh, clean air after eight hours of sucking in various perfumes. There was no respite from the cloying odor except for the break room, and that smelled like reheated chicken and stale donuts. This afternoon, she’d gotten stuck behind a stalled school bus and arrived three minutes late, so she’d been forced to demonstrate a scent called Green Monster.
Two bottles had been sold.
Both to female customers who wanted to play a joke on their boyfriend.
Rosie didn’t even bother waiting until she’d reached her car to take off the heels. She gripped them by the stems and cooled her feet on the chilled asphalt, one step at a time. She’d have to remember to wash them off before getting into Bethany’s dream bed.
Weirdly, she wasn’t quite as excited to sink into the exquisite mattress tonight. It might be perfect and ergonomically designed, but . . . a lot was missing. Things she’d grown used to and possibly, maybe, taken for granted. Such as Dominic’s breath in her hair, steady and deep and reliable. The way he’d brush their knuckles together when the night was too dark to see each other’s face. And just that simple touch would lull her back to sleep. Even the dip of the mattress when he turned over, the one that used to wake her up and annoy her . . . She found herself waking up in Bethany’s bed, troubled by the absence of it.
This was normal. Any kind of change was hard. It wasn’t that she missed him. She needed to remember that. What would she miss? His brooding silence? Their total lack of a social life? Seriously, he hadn’t taken her out in . . . years. They had friends, but those relationships never got nurtured because they always stayed home. Dominic didn’t expressly ask her to stay home, but growing up they’d done everything together. Now they were adults and going out separately never seemed like an option. Almost like there was an unspoken rule between them and it was cemented by Dominic’s possessiveness.
If she hadn’t gone to Zumba class one night over the summer, she wouldn’t have been there for the formation of the Just Us League. It might never have been formed at all.
Rosie stepped on a pebble and winced.
“You okay, Rosie?” called the security guard from the mall door. He’d been supervising Rosie’s walk to her car since she’d gotten the job years ago. Such a sweetheart. His watching over her was slightly odd, considering he didn’t do it for anyone else, but he was such a harmless grandfatherly type, she never questioned it.
Hopping on one foot, she waved back. “I’m fine, Joe!”
Lost in her thoughts—and the twinge of pain in her heel—it took Rosie a moment to see the envelope on her windshield, tucked beneath one of the wipers.
Her name was written across the front in a familiar hand.
Dominic’s.
Rosie’s stomach winged up to her throat like a startled bird as she plucked the envelope out of its place. With it in hand, she looked around the empty parking lot, as if her husband might be leaning against a lamppost, but there was no one there, save the McDonald’s wrappers and shopping bags blowing in the wind.
She took out her car keys and unlocked the door, waving one final time to Joe before climbing into the driver’s seat and locking the Honda. After a moment of deliberation, she set the letter down on the passenger seat and started the car. She’d read it when she got home and changed into her pajamas. But she made it two feet before she slammed on the brakes and threw the car back into park. With a deep breath, she retrieved the letter and switched on the overhead light, sliding the folded piece of paper out of its home.