Boone:I feel like I should be offended by that, but that’s the perfect way to describe me right now.
Rhiannon:;) Good luck.
???
I open and close my text messages, then drag my finger downward like that can somehow refresh them.
It can’t, but I’m desperate, and Rosie hasn’t answered a single one or called me back.
It’s the weekend now, which means she’s back in Brookhaven. Probably sleeping in the middle of the bed where we made love. Hopefully, she's seeing all the little things that remind her of us, of what we’ve started and what was good between us.
At least, that's what I hope she's thinking when she sees them and not that she made the biggest mistake of her life by letting me inside.
This isn’t over. Not by a long shot. She just needs some space, like Rhiannon said.
Cain’s words from weeks ago flash in my head—about fighting for her like no man ever has. I wonder if this is the test he warned me about. If I fail this, I know I’ll lose her for good.
No. This isn’t a test. This is me being a dumbass, screwing up what should’ve been simple.
If I’d just stuck to the script, said the things she told me to say despite knowing they’re a lie, I’d be with her right now. Maybe in her apartment, or maybe in Brookhaven, buried inside her instead of sulking here with my dick aching in my sweatpants waiting to sign divorce papers that she wants tomorrow morning.
“Fuck me,” I mutter to the ceiling again.
As if on cue, the door flies open, and Penn barrels in without a care in the world for personal space or my impending divorce.
“Guess privacy’s not a thing now that I've moved back in?” I grumble as he flops down onto my bed like it’s his personal couch.
“Yeah, well, Coach has been trying to get ahold of you,” Penn says, nodding at my phone. "And he just called me instead to see if we're together. You know how I love sleeping in on Saturday's. It woke me up."
I glance at my missed calls log and low and behold, there are two from Coach. I ignored them, of course. I was too afraid Rosie would call at the exact moment I was on the phone with him, and I’d miss her.
You’re a big, dumb idiot, Tremblay.She’s not going to call you!
Perfect. Just what I needed to top off this disaster of a weekend. Before I can hit redial another very unwelcome face greets me in the doorway to my old bedroom.
"Hey, Boone," Anastasia says with what I'm assuming is supposed to be a sultry smile. She's dressed in nothing but Penn's jersey and I'm certain she's naked underneath since it hits mid-thigh.
It does absolutely nothing for me except make me wonder what I ever saw in her. How could I have ever proposed to her when I know now what real love feels like?
God, I dodged a bullet there.
“Oh, Anastasia spent the night,” Penn says innocently nodding at my ex in his doorway.
“This is great,” I say, sitting up because now it's a fucking pre-my-life-with-Rosie reunion.
I hit redial on the last call from coach as Penn leans in, shamelessly eavesdropping like the nosy little shit that he is.
“Tremblay!” Coach’s voice booms so loudly through the speaker I flinch, holding the phone away from my ear.
If I were still a drinking man, I’d reach for a whiskey right now to take the edge off these past few days. But I gave up all my vices years ago. Plus, they’ve’ been replaced.
With Rosie.
Too bad I can’t lose myself inside her today.
“Coach, how can I help?” I ask, trying to act like I haven’t been ignoring self-care in days because I don’t want to wash off my ex-wife’s shampoo and soap.
“Get down to the stadium right now. Caleb wants to meet with you.”
