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“Uh. My mom does.”
And then the woman laughs, like I’ve said something funny, like I’m the one flirting with her. Which, for the record, I’m not. She asked a question. I answered that question.
“Can I get you a drink?” she asks.
The book bar serves a few edible items. And it might be exactly what I need to ditch my tag-along. “Sure. Water.” I nod and give the woman a non-encouraging, closed-lipped grin.
She’s off, and with her disappearance, I feel an urgency to make my move.
I clear my throat, trying to draw attention to myself. “Rosalie?”
She turns on her heels, her eyes semi wide, a very fake smile on her face. “It is you. Um. Hi.”
“Yeah, I thought that was you, too.” Every word I utter to her feels like a lie. I’ve been waiting months to speak to the girl again, and now it’s all coming out wrong. “You decided to visit the shop.”
The stress lines around her eyes and on her forehead ease. “Yeah,” she says with an exhale. “I can’t resist a good bookshop. And like I said, I’m new to town.”
It almost feels like an invitation. “That’s right.” My heart thumps with my next words—that are not a lie. “I’d be happy to show you around.”
“Your girlfriend wouldn’t mind?” She nods toward the entrance of the small galley kitchen where the overly friendly clerk is surely drugging my water.
“Her? I don’t even know her name. I don’t have a girlfriend.” My heart aches a little with the words. I don’t though. Not anymore. And I certainly don’t have a fiancée.
She nods, nibbling on her cheek. “I’m single, too. Newly.” She swallows. “Sort of.”
She’s talking about Robert. Which I suppose is better than her talking about me. Hopefully in the future, when she refers to me, she’ll never use the words newly single. And yet, it still hurts. Rosalie referring to him as something lost, as something she’s thinking about, hurts my heart.
The clerk comes out of the kitchen, holding an entire tray. Four glasses on top. “Here we are,” she says. “I never asked, sparkling or flat? Lemon or not? So, I brought it all.”
“Oh. Um, wow. I’ll take flat. No lemon.” I happen to know that Rosalie loves sparkling with lemon. So, I leave that option wide open, and then— “Would you like something?” I ask, looking at Rosalie. And because I want to draw a thick line between me and cheating Robert Pattinson, I make it clear that this woman and I are not together. “Ah, this nice woman, whom I don’t really know, has extra.”
“You don’t mind?” Rosalie says to the girl.
She blows out a raspberry, her pink bangs fluttering up with the breeze. “Go ahead.”
Rosalie picks up the clear glass with bubbles and a lemon wedged on the side. “What was your name?” she asks the clerk.
“Sienna.”
My sweet Rosalie smiles at the girl. “Have you read this one?” She points to an Addison Adams’ novel that came out last year.
Sienna shakes her head.
“Uh—I have,” I say, quickly throwing out the “buying my mom a gift” cover. It was a good idea. One that may have made me sound a little more masculine. But then, Rosalie loved it when I’d read a book with her, and that I’d read any genre.
“You?” Rosalie’s tone rises an octave, and she turns her full attention to me.
When it’s clear that I’m only looking at Rose, Sienna sighs. “Of course. Because all the cute ones are gay.” Then she promptly exits, taking the other two drinks with her.
I choke on the one sip of water sliding down my throat. My eyes bug and I keep them on Rose. “Not gay,” I cough out, holding up one finger.
She glances down at the romance novel I just owned up to having read. Give me a break. How many battles does one guy have to fight?
“I’m not,” I say. “A friend of mine talked me into reading that book.”
Her eyes crinkle at the sides as she holds back a smile. “Your friends do that a lot.”
“Actually, more like she bullied and blackmailed me into it.”
