Page 70

“He was,” I agree, deciding I’m allowed to say so now.

She pulls into the parking lot of my Red Tails apartment building. She parks and leans her head against the seat, a long sigh falling from her lips. “Maybe I should take up drinking.”

I breathe out a laugh. “Nah. Let’s go inside, talk a minute, and hopefully you’ll feel better.”

We pass Wade and Tru on our way inside. They both do a double take with Rosalie at my side, walking into our Red Tails apartment building. There’s a reason we took the stairwell on the Fourth. So many Red Tails.

Thankfully, she’s too worked up to notice their stares. “I don’t know how to feel better. He’s so much worse than I ever thought possible, Zev.”

“Is he? You said he cheated on you.”

She presses her lips together, thinking. “I know. I just—I hoped I was wrong. I was hoping he was the Robert I remembered from before.”

We step into an empty elevator, and I hit the second floor. “I think that says more about you than him. You’re a good person, Rose.”

“Or a really, really naïve person.” She sighs, leaning against the wall of the elevator.

“Hoping for the best isn’t naïve.” The sliding doors open and I peek out, scanning the hallway for Red Tails. When it’s clear, I step out, Rosalie following after me. My apartment, 201, is just to the left of the elevator doors. “You’ve got my keys.” I point to her clenched fist. She hands them over and I unlock the door.

I push it open and hold it for her—in the clear. Whew. Rosalie moves by me, her sweet rosewater scent wafting past me. “Take a seat,” I say.

“Thanks.” Then the girl of my dreams wanders into my apartment with brand new eyes, as if she’s never seen it before. “Nice chair,” she says, which is exactly what she said the first time she walked into this room and saw my black-and-white cow-printed wingback chair.

Directly after she commented on my chair all those months ago, she also commented on⁠—

“Zev. Your library.”

Ah. There it is. Same awe. Same sweet tone. It’s like I’m reliving a sweet, memorable moment of my life.

She crouches next to my low, long bookshelf that covers the entire length of the wall in my living room. It’s filled with books piled on top of the shelf, too.

“This is⁠—”

“Extensive?” I say, using her word from so long ago.

“And impressive. Bronte, King, even—” She laughs. “You weren’t lying. You really have read Addison Adams.”

I lift one shoulder. “I told you.” I walk over to my small open kitchen. “Can I get you anything?”

“Ugh.” Rosalie plops into my wingback chair, or Bessie as I like to call her, one of my books in her lap. “Do you have any chocolate?”

I pull a bag of chocolate-covered cinnamon bears from my cupboard. I’ve kept them on hand since meeting Rosalie. They are her favorite. I set the giant-sized bag on the book in her lap, and she blinks her eyes open.

A small gasp escapes her lips. “More cinnamon bears? You have a problem. One that I completely approve of.”

I pause for a second before grabbing her a soda. And my girl doesn’t disappoint. She rips open the oversized bag with her teeth. I chuckle behind her, my eyes unexpectedly watering up.

“I know,” she says, her focus still on the bag. She’s in, and she’s ready to sacrifice her first bear. “It’s terrible for my teeth. But it’s the best way to open these big bags. You’re so smart to buy the family size.”

I sniff. “Yeah, well, you never know when a chocolate cinnamon bear will come in handy.”

“That’s what I always say. Every single time Fran would come home from a bad date, I’d bust out the cinnamon bears.” She bites off the first bear’s head, then glances back at me. “Fran and I have consumed a lot of cinnamon bears over the years.”

I smirk. “I bet. Your friend is married now, right?” Every time I ask her a question she knows the answer to, I feel dishonest. But I’m doing what she wants. I won’t disclose her past unless she brings it up first.

“She is.” Rosalie sighs. And I know that sigh. It’s sad.

I set a drink on the table in front of her and take a seat on the couch. “You don’t like him?”