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Not like I always did.
I couldn’t lock down, buckle in, keep my gaze pointed ahead and move forward, ignoring all the old and new hurts. “I can’t keep doing this, dad,” I whispered. “I can’t keep doing this withyou.”
He’d opened his mouth, eyes flashing, and I braced.
But then my mom’s hand flexed on his, cutting him off. “I know, sweetie. I know you can’t.”
She was looking at me.
Seeingme.
And…I wanted to grab on to that, to pull it close, and delve into that feeling.
But I didn’t trust it. I didn’t even know how to comprehend it.
Sweetie.
Looking at me.
Lookingat me.
“Umm,” I whispered.
She glanced away. That bubble in my belly started to pop.
Joel’s hand tightened on my waist. “What kind of wine do you want, baby?”
Whiplash.
Again.
My neck was going to hurt tomorrow from all the rapid changes in direction.
“Umm,” I whispered again.
His fingers tightened slightly. “What wine do you want, Rosie baby?”
I bit my lip, nodded, knew I’d need time to process this later, and focused on the menu again. “The Napa Valley.”
Soft eyes. “Then get the Napa Valley, sweetheart.”
“Right,” I said, still whispering.
A kiss to my temple. “Right,” he whispered back.
“Rosie.”
It wasn’t a request for my attention, and it wasn’t from Joel.
It was shocking as shit…because it was coming from my mom again.
I glanced over at her, saw something fluttering in her eyes, something that was so foreign I couldn’t even begin to focus on it. Her face went gentle, and she nodded. “Yes.Rosie.”
Then she went back to looking at her menu, to existing in her own world.
Something Joel noticed, too, if his staying close and tense was any indication.
Waiting for my dad to take advantage of my mom checking out again.
