“That was number one. Number two… that’s where mistakes really begin.”
Rhoswen’s inhale is slight, barely audible. Suddenly, I’m right back there—twenty-one years old, fresh off a deployment that stole more from me than I realized at the time.
I let my eyes drift to the fire, letting the flicker carry me into the next memory, the next confession.
“Here’s where I almost never became the man I was today.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
PAST: FIVE MONTHS AND THREE WEEKS EARLIER
When Charlieand I first started dating, we both agreed that other than the occasional dinner it might be difficult to get together during the week. Not only did he still have his nose—unofficially—stuck in Hudson Investigations, I had classes to teach and papers to grade.
But during the week on one of our FaceTime calls, I told Charlie I wanted to plan our next date night out. On Tuesday, he was fine with it. Now that it’s here, he’s regretting that decision with every fiber of his being.
He looks through the windshield of my car like I’ve driven him through the gates of hell. “Rhoswen?”
“Yes?”
“No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’?” I know exactly what he’s protesting, but I want him to say it out loud. Honestly, there’s a flicker of fear behind the disdain in his eyes that’s hard not to smile at.
“I mean, abso-fuckin’-lutely not.” He gestures at the building as if its presence offends him. “This is not the kind of date you go on after sharing your Henry VII marriage backstory.”
“Should we have stayed home and watchedThe Tudors?”
“That’s even less funny.”
He eyes the neon sign advertising free skating until ten p.m. “Isn’t this the kind of activity that’s for people who still bounce?”
I lean over and let my breath whisper against his ear. “Didn’t you say my tits bounced great on you not that long ago?”
His voice is thick as he remembers that very moment. “I didn’t mean…”
“Uh huh.”
“I mean the kind of bouncing where people could get hurt after falling.”
I snort. “And not get up?”
“Hey now. I get things up just fine.”
I pat his hand. “You’ll be fine. You work out five days a week, Charlie.”
“I’m old, my little coo.”
“You’ll be fine.”
His eyes squint at me. “You plan on enjoying me humiliating myself.”
“Absolutely.” With that, I hop out of my car and jog around to his side. He lumbers out slowly, as if he can delay the inevitable. Or maybe the asphalt will somehow crack open and swallow him up before he makes it to the front entrance.
After he gets to his towering height, I offer my hand and ask sweetly, “Trust me?”
“I trust you. I do not trust the maintenance of equipment being handled by teenagers who are paid minimum wage and are too busy flirting.”
I wink at him as I pull a duffle bag from the backseat. “Why not? Wasn’t that you?”
