“You think if my mom died or something ugly happened to mysister that those brothers and their women wouldn’t be all about being therefor me?”he asked.
I looked at my toes.
“Rosalie,” he growled.
“They would,” I whispered.
“It isn’t abouthavin’ someone toshare a beer with, even when it is.It isn’t abouthavin’someone to do a ride with, even when it’s that too.It’s about making theconscious decision to surround myself with good people so when life is good, Igot someone to share that with, and when life turns to shit, I got someonewho’ll help hold me steady.”
Now I was deep breathing.
“Life, Rosie,” he said gently, “is not aboutgoin’ it alone.It’s about finding the right people toshare it with who will make it better when it’s good and be there to hold yousteady when it’s not.”
“But I’m bouncing from guy to guy to guy,” I pointed out.
“You’re living your life and you aren’tdoin’itlatchin’ on to men to take care of you.You’redoin’ it and men are drifting through your life whilethat’s happening.They weren’t the right ones and right now, that’s good forme, because Iwannabe that one.But they aren’tanything except that theywere.Theywerein your life.Andyou moved on or they moved on or whatever.Youwannabe with somebody, that does not make you weak, Rosie.In most cases, finding itin you to take the risk to trust your time and your heart to someone makes youstrong.But in all cases, wanting to share your life with other people justmakes you human.”
“You’ve got it totally figured out,” I muttered.
“No, Rosie, I got dick figured out,” he retorted.“Onlything I know for certain is, so far, I lucked out and made good decisions in mylife, and one of them is you.The you that it doesn’t mean shit you got a scarcuttin’ ’cross your brow like it wouldn’t mean shit you puton fifty pounds like it wouldn’t mean shit you aged thirty years.You’re Rosie.And no matter what, you’ll always be beautiful.”
My throat sounded clogged when I pushed through it, “I don’tthink you need to come back anymore, Snapper.”
“You don’t sound much better, baby,” he said softly.
“Then you aren’t listening very closely.”
He grew silent.
I stared at my toes fighting against crying.
He broke the silence.
“Now, tell me what you got planned for your day.”
I cleared my throat, lifted my gaze, and focused on histidy, winter yard.“Unpacking.Calling Colombo’s.Online shopping to build avision for my reading nook.”
Your reading nook.
Damn.
“That all sounds good but not sure it’sgonnafill up your day, Rosie.”
He wanted me to fill up my day so I had good things to do,things to stay busy with, things that would keep me from getting in my head andmessing with my own damn self.
And that was so damnSnapper.
“I also need rugs, a dining room table, garden furniture,another seating area,”and a portable crib.I didn’t share the last.Ididn’t want him freaking at this point.One of us freaking was enough.I justfinished, “I think now that I’m feeling better, I’m going to consider the restof the time off more of a vacation and relax.Check in with Mom.Just…be.”
“That sounds like it’ll work,” he murmured.
I drew in a deep breath.
“You fall back into your head and it isn’t good, Rosie, youcall me,” he ordered.
“Okay, Snapper.”
“I’ll text when I’m on my way tonight with food.”
