“She doesn’t see your parents?”
“Not so much. We kind of fell out years ago and haven’t really kept in touch. We send birthday cards and gifts at Christmas, but…it’s better that way.” Rosa’s jaw tightened. “Everything was great when Imogen was a baby, but the moment she started to walk and talk, they wanted to assert a more traditional lifestyle on her.”
Roger nodded, but said nothing, allowing her to continue.
“Wanting her dressed in pink or taking away her football because it wasn’t ladylike. I suddenly remembered my own childhood, loved but transactional. I didn’t want that for Imogen, and it just led to a lot of arguing and I didn’t want that around Imogen either.”
“That’s a shame,” Roger said, throwing teabags into cups as the kettle hissed into life. “I don’t know where I’d be without my Libby and her children keeping me from existing purely in a world of fantasy, murder, and intrigue.”
“It must be quite nice to drop off from reality and submerge into a world of make-believe.”
“I like it.” He grinned. “There is something magical about being able to weave a story, even when it’s dark and murderous, and bring the reader along with you.”
“I do enjoy your stories, and even more so that I get to see the process and the drafts, and the intricate or simplistic changes you make to move the story along. It’s fascinating.”
The kettle clicked and steamed, and Roger lifted it and began to pour.
“Having the funds to be able to pay you has been a godsend to me. I’d lose hours of time researching for things, having to file it all, tidy the house and eat.”
“It’s the perfect job for me.” Rosa sighed, taking the offered cup. “Thank you.” She placed it down onto the cup-shaped cork mat that sat on the table. “I seem to have spent my entire life researching, tidying, cooking. Who knew that one small baby would require so much attention to detail.”
“Quite.” He chuckled. “My wife did all that with Libby and Geoff. I was a little more hands-on with Chester, but once this career took off, it made sense for her to take on the family while I brought in the wage. Losing her was…” His voice trailed off. He wrapped his hand around his mug, gripping it a little too tightly, eyes glistening. He looked at Rosa. “If you have the chance to make it work with someone you love, don’t let it slip through your fingers. There’s never enough time, Rosa. Before you know it, one of you is gone and you live with all the regrets and what-ifs. The empty side of the bed never gets warm.”
“But what if it doesn’t work out again?”
“That’s a risk with everything. What if my book doesn’t sell, should I not write another one?”
“Imogen’s already been messed around by the pair of us her entire life, and all she’s ever wanted was the one thing we couldn’t give her.”
Roger’s head tilted a little and he smiled. “Is it really Imogen you’re protecting, or your own heart?”
The question made Rosa pause. Was that what was holding her back? Using Imogen as the reason, but really, it was she who was scared to get hurt?
“Maybe,” she finally answered. Her mouth curved upwards at the corners as she told him, “I’ve always loved her. I don’t think there has ever been a day when that wasn’t true.”
“Then maybe this is your opportunity to enjoy, rather than endure?”
“You might be right. But now isn’t the time. I don’t want to do anything that causes her to shift into that overwhelmed state again.”
Roger narrowed his eyes at her. “You once said that she’s spent years in therapy. I think you joked that she was probably as experienced as any therapist could be.”
Rosa smiled at his memory. “Yes, she has and is.”
“Then one would assume she’s not going to fall back into those old coping mechanisms this time and she’s quite able to communicate her needs to you. And maybe, again, it’s your fear that’s bringing up these issues?”
Sipping her tea, Rosa eyed him. She placed the mug down. “Maybe it’s you who should be a therapist, Roger.”
Chapter sixty-nine
Rosa watched Imogen, Janka, and Robbie stroll down the path from the school building, walking and talking without a care in the world. Her stomach dropped at the prospect of ruining Imogen’s day.
She waved when Imogen looked up and caught sight of the familiar car and Rosa behind the wheel. Imogen squeezed Robbie in a quick hug, bumped shoulders with Janka, and then skipped the last few feet, yanking the door open, tossing her bag onto the back seat, and flopping into the passenger seat.
“Hey, Mum.” She beamed. “Got an A on that English test.”
“That’s amazing, Imogen, well done. Is that the one you studied for with Robbie last week?”
“Yep, you were right, studying pays off.”
