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“Better than I expected. But that’s not why I called, Andrew. Have you prepared all the documents? We are getting back tomorrow, and I don’t want her to wait for them.” I turn around to look at our small house/room. It’s plain and small but the way the trees are arranged around it make it appear as if it’s a drawing. “It’s crucial not to drag this out any longer.” Not to mention that if I leave Carol alone for a few days, I’m afraid she’ll just go back to ignoring me. It seems unlikely when I think of how we were last night and this morning, but still.
“They are almost ready; I’ve scanned everything and blacked out any info that can connect the company to us. I’ll check them again tomorrow, or I can have Abby do that, but you’ll be set by Tuesday for sure. I mean, she will be tired from the trip, I don’t think she’ll even want to hear about this project.”
“No, not Abby. I don’t want anyone else involved, not even for that,” I remind him. As for Carol wanting time to rest, the opposite is true—but I don’t bother Andrew with that. If I tell him about Carol’s insistence, he’ll start another tirade about my pointless lies. I really don’t want to hear it right now, not until I figure out how to tell her the truth. My hope is that she won’t think it’s a big deal, or that she might even be happy about it, but deep down I know this secret can screw things up completely.
Andrew fills me in about the upcoming board meeting and I have him arrange one-on-one meetings with each member before the big day. I need to know where I stand and if anyone has knowledge of what is happening in the company. Our conversation ends rather abruptly at the sound of footsteps outside the garden. This is the last house on the path so whoever is there is coming to see Carol.
It better not be Morgan. The moment I saw them talking, and how hurt Carol looked, or how her expression changed as she spoke to him…and then when she saw me. That asshole is the only reason I want us to leave this place. Just looking at him makes me want to punch him.
I reach the door as the person standing on the other side tries to open it. The key is in the room but there’s a little button on the inside that lets you control the door. Having people over right now is not ideal, regardless of who it is—we do have to get ready for the wedding—but once I hear a soft knock, I know there’s no avoiding it.
The moment I press the button, the door swings open, and a woman with long blond, almost white hair storms inside. “What took you so long?” It takes her a second to look in my direction and realize it’s not Carol who has opened the door. “Brian?”
“Rose?”
She nods enthusiastically and pulls her hair into a messy bun. What she’s wearing can only be described as gym clothes but the bag she’s carrying does fit her look.
“That’s your luggage?” I point to the duffel bag.
“What? No! This is just to get ready for the wedding. If I leave it up to Carol, she’ll just pitch up with air-dried hair and some lipstick.”
Where’s the problem with that?
“Make yourself at home,” I tell her but she’s already at the door, ready to knock. But she never does. She stops her hand midair and turns to me, with a frown. Trying to ignore her wary gaze, I head back to my lounge chair. There’s a thud—the bag’s on the ground—and then Rose sits down next to me.
“I thought you had to get ready for the wedding,” I say, my eyes fixed on the blue spots in between the posts.
“Five minutes won’t make a difference,” she points out and I can’t help but snort. “What?”
“Nothing, I agree. Tell me, Rose, what’s troubling you?” I turn to look at her.
Ironically, the last person I saw before leaving Dartmouth was Rose. She and Carol were inseparable even then and she often spent time with us, either before or after our dates.
That day, she’d asked me if there was something wrong—my face probably betrayed what was already going through my mind. And I lied.
“You,” she answers honestly. “I don’t want to see Carol hurt again and I’m not sure what’s in it for you. Dennis said you want to settle down, but I don’t get why now, after all these years. Did you really see her that night and decide that she’s the one.”
I’m surprised by her sudden negativity. From what Dennis has told me, she was the one who insisted on me coming here with Carol. I point this out to her, and she nods.
“I knew she needed closure on your story and a date. It was a win-win situation. But from what she’s told me, you are really trying to turn this into something more.”
It’s no wonder they have been talking about me but given her reaction, Carol must have shared that she still has feelings for me. Or at least that she’s interested in something more.
“Is that a bad thing?” I sit up to get a better look at her. If Carol’s parents and sister had such an initial negative reaction to me, knowing so little about our relationship, I can’t imagine what Rose knows about that period in Carol’s life.
“I don’t know. Is it? I don’t want to see my friend hurt, Brian. She went through hell after you left. Getting this out of her system is one thing, starting over is another.” She crosses both arms and legs, as if in a defensive position but her eyes are as fierce as ever.
My first reaction is to defend myself but then I shake my head, her words finally registering properly in my mind. “Wait, what do you mean went through hell? Carol mentioned something about rumors, what was that about—is there something else?”
Rose refuses to tell me more, insisting that Carol will share anything she wants to share when she’s ready. “Just don’t hurt her,” she warns me and goes back to the door. This time her knocking is loud and clear.
I snort. She had planned to have this talk with me, otherwise she’d simply have texted or called Carol to open the door for her.
There’s a muffled sound from inside before Carol opens the door. Her face lights up when she sees her friend. “Finally,” she chortles.
“You really thought I’d leave you alone today?” Rose asks and I clear my throat to remind her I’m here for Carol. She turns her head abruptly causing her bun to wobble and lifts her bag in the air. “Hair and makeup? Really?” she asks with both eyebrows raised. Carol stands behind her, shaking with silent laughter.
“No, not that,” I agree and move toward the garden door. “Where’s Dennis?” If I have to sit around until they get ready, I might as well have some company.
