* * *
Desserts finished,Rose and Bea excused themselves for the bathroom.
He stood until they’d left the room, and then seated himself again.
“Thank you so much for allowing us to share your table.” He smiled at Alfred and Annette, whose conversational ease and wholehearted welcome had made the entire evening much less awkward than it could have become. “Bea couldn’t have had a lovelier birthday dinner.”
Annette inclined her head in gracious acknowledgment. “She’s a wonderful young woman, which is no doubt a testament to your parenting. We’re delighted the two of you could join us.”
“Believe me, your presence was our pleasure.” Alfred arranged his fork at a precise angle on his plate. “We’ve never met one of Rosie’s colleagues before.”
No doubt they hadn’t. “Rose is quite private.”
Annette’s shoulders visibly stiffened under that drape-y fabric, and her blue eyes narrowed on him. “She has her reasons. Anyone in her life would have to understand that and appreciate her for what she is, rather than what he’d like her to be.”
Fuck. He hadn’t meant that as a criticism, merely a statement of fact.
If honesty would fix this, he’d offer it.
He held Annette’s gaze without flinching. “I think Rose is magnificent. Smart and kind and hardworking and witty. Do I wish I knew more about her? Yes. But that doesn’t mean I resent her self-containment or that I’d ever push her to change for my own comfort.”
Alfred’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Which makes you a better partner for her than our son ever was.”
That…that was more information about Rose’s marriage than he’d expected to receive.
More than he was comfortable receiving from anyone but her.
Annette reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. It was slim and cool. “I’m going to tell you something. Rose would kill me if she found out, so don’t share this with her.”
More private information about Rose? No. He couldn’t allow it.
“Please don’t—” he began.
“She may try to appear impervious to hurt, but she’s not.” Annette patted his hand, then removed hers. “Cause her pain, and we’ll make quite certain you regret it.”
“So much regret.” Alfred offered him a genial smile. “The sort of regret that would cause a man to rethink all his critical life choices to that point.”
Before tonight, he’d worried that Rose had entirely isolated herself in the world. From time to time, she’d mentioned a few college friends, but no family, and no one local.
He supposed that was one worry he could retire.
These people loved Rose. Would threaten near-strangers for her. Would openly criticize their own son’s behavior toward her.
Which meant they deserved more truth. “I can’t promise I won’t ever hurt her, because I’m human, and I also don’t know enough about her to avoid any sore spots. But I can promise I will do my absolute, unequivocal best not to cause her pain. Ever.”
“Good enough for me.” Alfred leaned over the table to thump Martin’s back. “For now, you can forget about all those terrible regrets. But we’ll be watching.”
“Oh, Alfred.” Annette heaved a dreamy sigh, scooting her chair close to her husband’s so she could rest her head on his shoulder. “Did you hear that?Unequivocal. He’s a nerd, just like her.”
“What’s this about nerds?” Rose came up to the table, Bea at her side.
“Nothing important, Rosie,” Alfred said.
Martin withdrew his wallet from his pocket. “It’s been a wonderful evening, but Bea and I need to head home and open presents.” A quick look around didn’t reveal their server. “If you see our guy, can you flag him down?”
Annette’s laugh tinkled through the restaurant. “My dear, Alfred paid the bill an hour ago, while you were diving face-first into your risotto.”
First of all: Rose hadn’t been lying about the dish. He would do terrible, terrible things for that risotto.
