Page 132 of Wait for Him

Two bedrooms, two and a half baths, and a large balcony off the bedroom overlooking the water. The furniture is bland in that expensive rental way, all creams and pale wood and absolutely nothing that suggests another human being has ever had an emotional experience here.

Perfect.

I set my bags inside the bedroom and walk out onto the balcony.

The ocean stretches out in front of me, loud enough to fill the silence without asking anything in return.

It's not lost on me that I've chosen to disappear somewhere still within a few hours of everything I supposedly need a break from.

I guess that was by design.

Far enough away to feel secluded.

Close enough to get back if anyone truly needs me.

I grip the balcony rail and look out over the water.

Old habits really do die hard.

Chapter Eleven

Jackson

January

It's been five months and three weeks since Rose walked away from everything.

That's how my time is measured now. Rosalie-less days and hours. I used to track quarters, fiscal years, board cycles. Now there's just before she left and however long this is.

The holidays left something to be desired, but they weren't nothing.

Samson and his family hosted Thanksgiving at their place. They invited Michael and Blaire, who invited me out of what I can only assume was pity, and I accepted, not because I gave a shit about turkey, but because some pathetic corner of me thought she might be there. I spent most of the drive over rehearsing what I'd say if I saw her, running through versions that ranged from casual and unaffected to dropping to my knees in Samson's driveway and begging her to put me out of my misery.

She wasn't there.

Bennet's phone lit up while we were at the table, though. A text wishing him and Blaire a happy Thanksgiving. I watched him read it twice, watched his face soften before he glanced in my direction and decided not to say anything with me sitting right there. I pretended not to notice and spent the rest of dinner doing the one thing I've gotten exceptionally good at over the last five months.

Being fine.

I couldn't bring myself to go back for Christmas.

Part of it was her absence, but part of it, if I'm honest, was James.

Watching that kid was a shock to my system. He looks like her. He looks like her and Bennet both, same gray eyes, same way of tilting his head when he's working something out, and absolutely nothing like Samson or Lauren or his siblings. I spent half of Thanksgiving wondering if Bennet sees it. I don't understand how he couldn't, but maybe there are things you stop seeing when they've been in front of you your whole life. Maybe there are things your brain quietly agrees not to question because questioning them would rearrange too much furniture.

He's a smart kid too. So fucking smart it almost hurts to watch. Samson and Lauren's house is full of his inventions, gadgets and half-built contraptions on shelves, things he's tinkered around with, he says, shrugging like brilliance is just some mildly inconvenient habit he picked up. He talked me through an automatic feeder he'd rigged for the dog for twenty minutes, complete with diagrams and several improvements he was already planning for version two, and I stood there nodding while my brain short circuited.

She gave him up so he could have this.

I understand her better now than I did when I could touch her.

That might be the cruelest part of all of this.

Jade has been a hell of an addition to the company, ruthless in her approach and every bit the badass Rose was.

Is.

Every bit the badass Rose is.