"Can't I just come to you when I'm ready, and you not show up at my door at six AM on a Tuesday because you don't have a fucking life?"
Fucking hell.I can feel the sting of my words as they fall off my tongue, and yet, I don’t stop them. Rose gave up her life to raise me, and she doesn’t deserve me being a dick.
The kitchen goes very quiet.
I round the counter and pull her into a hug without saying anything else.
"Michael."
"I know. I'm sorry. You didn't do anything to deserve me being a dick to you. I love you, Rose."
"We don't have to talk about it." Her voice wavers, and I feel like an even bigger bastard. Rosalie doesn't cry. She is one of the most stoic people I've ever known. It makes her a formidable attorney, and I have her on the verge of tears.
I take a breath.
"I feel stupid for wanting her the way I do," I say into her hair. "For feeling like a horny, out-of-control teenager every time she's in my line of sight. I hate her and I want her at the same time, and I don't know how to process any of it, and talking about it with you when half the battle is of a sexual nature doesn't quite feel—" I pause. "Comfy in the tummy."
She pulls back and looks at me.
"Comfy," she says slowly. "In the tummy."
"Fuck off." I laugh and push her away. "You know what I mean."
"No, please. Tell me more about your tum tum."
“Our parents raised you better than this, Rose.”
She places a hand on her chest with mock outrage. "Mama would have been worse."
I chuckle and start pouring our coffee. "She would have called Blaire and both families for an intervention already."
A knock interrupts our laughter.
"Apparently no one understands it's six AM," I groan, setting the coffeepot down and going to answer it.
I open the door, and Jenn barrels through it before I've fully stepped back, Gerald tucked under one arm like a football, her hair in a messy bun and her eyes bright with too much damn energy at this socially unacceptable hour.
She stops when she sees Rosalie at the counter.
"Oh." She pulls up short. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed."
"No, it's fine." I close the door. "Apparently my apartment is open to the public this morning." I look between them. "Rose, this is Jenn. My bestie with the great breasties."
Jenn looks up at me with an expression that is equal parts mortified and delighted.
"This is my sister, Rosalie," I finish.
Rosalie has put her coffee down. "Bestie with the great breasties," she repeats.
"His words," Jenn says.
"They're accurate," I say.
"Bennet." Rosalie says with a shake of her head. She looks at Gerald, who has dropped from Jenn's arms and is making his way toward the couch with proprietary confidence. I guess he’s decided this is his apartment now. "Is that a cat?"
"Gerald," Jenn confirms. "He likes it here."
"He hates everyone," I say.
