“Maybe I needed this more than I realized,” confessed Rosalie several bites into their sandwiches. She eyed him from across the table as if seeing him in a different light. “I haven’t had a chance to do anything fun in a long time.”
“I never would’ve guessed your idea of fun is dancing in the streets.”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far. And you’re one to talk—you’re the one with all the moves.”
Nick could feel the heat splotching pink on his bronze skin. He cleared his throat and played it off by chugging water. The last thing he wanted was for Rosalie to notice him blushing. He wasn’t the kind of guy who blushed. Not normally anyway.
“Did you mean what you said to Francine?” she asked suddenly.
He choked on the next bite of his sandwich. He pounded a fist to his chest and sputtered, “Mean what I said about what?”
“You’d try your hardest to keep Ady’s open.”
“Rosalie, I’m already trying.”
She shook her head. “You know what she meant—you know what I mean. Really try. Really put in the effort.”
“Ady’s was my mom’s pride and joy. It was her dream. That means a lot to me,” he answered plainly. “I’d never let it go if I could help it.”
“Good,” she said, smiling brightly. Satisfied with his answer, she returned her focus to her food. “Because I really think we have a shot at the restaurant competition.”
“The one you’re competing in.”
“Me—or we?”
He spotted the teasing note in her voice and he marveled at her uncanny ability to rope him in even when he said he wouldn’t be. The gift she had of talking him into things he thought he never could be talked into. He both loved and hated her enchanting influence.
“We’ll see about that,” he told her with a throaty laugh. “Better hurry up and finish our lunch. Gotta say goodbye to NOLA. We’ve got groceries to fridge and kiddos to pick up.”
Chapter Eleven
The New Orleans trip with Nick gave Rosalie a break from the message haunting her voice mail. She hadn’t listened to it, but she hadn’t deleted it either. Leaving the message in a state of limbo gave her the space she needed to think about it. She didn’t tell anyone, acting as if it didn’t exist. There was no one to tell. Ma would go off on a tangent. Remi would cry for her daddy. The few old friends she had in Bmore were too busy to answer a crisis call. She couldn’t blame them; it wasn’t like she had been around for them in recent times of need.
For the briefest moment on their trip into NOLA, Rosalie considered telling Nick. He had proven himself a good listener. They had developed a rapport that felt open, even if their interactions confused her at times. At the last second she decided against it, clamping her mouth shut on the secret.
Besides, she was angry. She was furious with the man she fell so blindly in love with that she bought the lies he sold her. He had betrayed her trust and broken her heart, stomping over it after the fact. He disrespected every last vow he made on the day they eloped. He treated her like she was the problem, made her feel invisible and inadequate. She was never enough.
His straying was her fault. She needed to be more laidback like Erica. More of a sex goddess like Gia. More of a perfect 1950s cooking and cleaning type like the woman from his workplace affair. There was always a woman around who was “more” than Rosalie. More beautiful. More engaging. More fun. More willing to feed Clyde’s ego.
At first she believed she could compete. She could fix whatever it was that had him stepping outside their marriage. After all, Ma had believed the same growing up. She had dealt with her fair share of cheaters and had done her damnedest to try to reel them in like a fisherman with bait on the hook.
But why was she competing with other women in the first place? She was his wife. She was supposed to be it for him. He was it for her. Why wouldn’t he give her that same value? Why did he insist on breaking her?
The shame hung around her neck, however invisible but heavy to bear. Even with the bullshit he put her through, she had stuck around. He had left her.
No one knew the extent of how bad their marriage was. She kept it hidden from everyone out of sheer embarrassment. Ma’s implied “I told you so” was bad enough. The pitiful back pats from her friends in Bmore were humiliating enough. The awkward explanations she came up with to Remi why the other woman confronted her outside the subway was hard enough.
It was time to let Clyde suffer a little bit. To ignore his existence the way he had spent years ignoring hers, making her feel small. As selfish and wrong as it was, she derived a secret satisfaction from not returning his call. From not even listening to his voicemail. Now he was the unimportant one. How did it feel?
On her next day off, she picked Remi up from school and took her to Main Street. With Halloween just over two weeks away, she figured it was time to shop for a costume. She had scraped together a couple of bucks from her first paycheck in order to buy one for her. Outside of Christmas and her birthday, Halloween was Remi’s favorite holiday. She loved dressing up as different variations of princesses.
This year? As they strolled down the sidewalks, Remi obediently held on to her hand and told her about how she wanted to be Tiana from The Princess and the Frog. She described what she hoped the dress would look like, citing the bright green colors and long skirt.
“And a crown!” she finished feverishly.
Rosalie hid her worry behind a placating smile. “Remember, Remi baby, we’re on a budget. Mommy can’t afford the most expensive costume, but we’ll get you a pretty one, okay?”
“Yes, Mommy. I remember.”
The Party Haven was the place in town that sold holiday merchandise. For Halloween, the business had gone all out to celebrate the upcoming holiday. A fog machine produced rolling clouds at their feet and overhead creepy cobwebs dangled with even creepier rubber spiders. On their approach, Remi clutched her hand tighter and pressed into her side, eyes bulging as she stared at the spooky decor.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s all fake. Don’t be scared.”
“But it looks so real.”
“Afternoon, folks, what can I do for you?” the clerk hooted as soon as they entered. She had rounded the checkout counter to greet them at the door. Her fire-engine red braided pigtails dangled over the front of her polka-dot Raggedy Ann costume. On her cheeks she had dotted freckles and swiped an obscene amount of blush. Pinned to her chest was her name tag, spelling out her name: Ines. “Is this your baby? She’s your lil’ mini-me!”
“Say hello, Remi.”
Remi’s grip on her hand endured. She used her left to wave hello. Ines dug into the pouch of her Raggedy Ann apron and produced a handful of chocolate candies. Both women laughed as Remi’s face shone and she gladly accepted the sugary offering.
“That always wins ’em over. I keep a whole bag on me,” she said.
“Thanks. It’ll calm her down. The decorations freaked her out.”
“Try working here. The rubber spiders still got me jumping.”
They watched Remi unwrap the candies and pop them into her mouth, wandering off to a nearby kitty cat on display. The black cat was part of a witch’s set, but she petted him out of interest.