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“Yes. I could never forget that day.” Her face heats up.
Of course she can’t. I can’t either.
It was the day she lost her virginity, after all. One of the best fucking days of my life.
“I purchased something from Clementine,” I say before the memories of that day distract me too much.
From my wallet, I take out the small sterling silver ring I now carry with me everywhere.
Rose’s mouth falls open, and her hands fly to her chest.
“Though I hadn’t come to terms with us, your name, or my past, I couldn’t resist buying it. But it was so early in our relationship.” The ring, wrapped in a paper bag, had felt so heavy in my pocket.
“It was only the next day that you agreed to be my girlfriend, couch girl. I knew you would run for the hills if you saw me buying a ring.” I kiss her forehead.
Sometimes I can hardly fucking believe she finally agreed to me mine. My wife.
“Maybe I would have,” she whispers.
“No maybe, baby.” I peck her nose. “Anyway, I kept the original ring with me, and then when I was planning my proposal, Clementine made some adjustments to the design and worked with the jeweler.”
“This was the final design Zander agreed to.” Clem points toward the picture frame. “He has a copyright for this. Your ring is one of a kind, Rose.”
A tear from Rose’s eyes drops onto the shining glass. “I don’t know what to say, Clem. This is exceptional. Thank you so much.” She gives the picture another look before throwing her arms around her roommate.
Clementine’s eyes widen, then she returns the hug and smiles widely. “Rose, I don’t know what has happened, but over the past few weeks, you have changed. Maybe it’s the effect of your hunk…” She wiggles her eyebrows at me suggestively, making me chuckle. “But you look so happy.”
And she’s right.
Rose is not only happy but also more confident. Her anxiety attacks are almost nonexistent. She is opening up more. But I can’t take the full responsibility for this change.
I would say it’s Sophia’s journal. Every night, Rose reads it. I’ve noticed how she closes her eyes and picks a random page. She smells the book, her fingers gliding over the letters. She takes almost an hour to read one entry.
That’s saying something, considering my girl can speed read. But she savors the words written by her mother like they’re the last slice of a birthday cake.
Every night after reading the journal, she cuddles next to me. Sometimes there are tears in her eyes; sometimes she is just giddy with joy. Sometimes she is thoughtful, and sometimes she hits me with random questions. I never ask what she read. That journal and its contents are meant for Rose and Sophia and no one else. I just hope the written words will somehow ease the tension between them.
Rose has just about accepted Beast. His frequent dinner invitations have helped him to get close to his daughters. I often find him showing Kristy and Rose some hidden crook of his house that holds a meaning to only them.
I can’t even imagine how many emotions are trapped in his heart, fluttering to come out. The same is true for Rose. She holds on to his every word, grabbing random pieces of her lost childhood. Last week, I even heard her calling him Dad.
But to Sophia, she is distant. I don’t understand why. When Rose thinks no one is watching, I often find her staring at Sophia with anticipation. But of what? It seems as if she’s waiting for her mother to do something. Give her a hint. And I think the same is true for Sophia. I hope they don’t spend too much time just waiting.
* * *
An hour later, Clementine’s driver, Scott, arrives. I must praise the patience of that man. He didn’t even release a sigh of exasperation while hauling Clementine’s heavy bags and boxes into the car. Only two of those ten boxes made the journey from the house to the car trunk without toppling over. But that man picked up everything and even cracked a joke about Clementine’s cat lamp.
After handing the keys to Rose’s landlord, Mr. Hart, we get into my car to start the next, and hopefully the most amazing, chapter of our lives.
I slow the car as we get off the highway and take the narrow lane. It has been paved with concrete but not widened. I wanted to preserve the charm of the location.
“Zander, this looks so magical.” Rose points toward the blinking lights.
A few meters beyond the highway, there are solar lights on either side of the road. This was one of those things we discussed.
I take a turn, and as before, hidden behind some trees, is our house. There are several other cars parked outside.
“We have company?” Rose’s brow furrows as her gaze shifts from the open parking space to me.
