Tequila Rose (Tequila Rose #1) - Willow Winters Page 0,39
huffs a laugh and apologizes. “Shit, I’m sorry, Mags,” he says and the laugh lingers in his voice.
With a hand placed over my racing heart, I smile back at him. “I didn’t see you there.”
“I can tell,” he jokes and the air is easy between us.
“I have to run but I just wanted to drop this off for Bridget,” he tells me and holds out a stuffed bear. There’s obviously something hard in the ears and when he squeezes it the ears spin.
“Ooh, it’s … oh what’s it called?”
“Buzzy the Bear.” He shrugs and hands it to me. It’s not wrapped and still has the tag on it. He never wraps them, never tells Bridget the toys are from him. They’re for me to give to her because he knows how much I struggle. It’s hard to do anything really on a single income in this town. If guilt could kill someone, I’d be struck dead here on my front porch. Instead my fingers just go numb and my throat tight.
“Thanks,” I say and have to clear my throat, holding the bear with both hands. “They have one at daycare and she threw a fit the other day when she couldn’t take the darn thing home.”
“I know … I heard. She’s coming along good with the transition; little social butterfly.”
An unwarranted huff leaves me. “Of course you heard. Is there anything this town doesn’t talk about?” My ears burn at the rhetorical question, knowing that kiss on the pier is going to make its rounds.
“I just asked Trent how she was doing is all,” Robert replies and a certain look flashes in his eyes. Maybe it’s doubt, but possibly regret.
Pushing the hair out of my face, I clear my head and apologize. “Sorry, I just … long day.” The excuse is a pathetic one, but it works to ease the worry from his face.
“You been crying?” he asks and a different look replaces the one that was just there.
“No,” I lie and his head tilts in an instant.
“It’s not a problem. Just … just life.”
“You need me to do anything?” he asks and I struggle to swallow the lump in my throat.
“You don’t need to be my hero,” I answer with something I’ve said a dozen times before. When he slips his hand into his pocket to grab his keys, he replies with what he’s said a dozen times too. “Maybe I want to be your hero.”
I can only smile when he leaves a quick kiss on my cheek. The opposite one to where Brody kissed me. My words and every confession threaten to strangle me.
What am I doing?
“See you soon?” he asks and he sounds hopeful. It’s different from usual.
“Yeah, of course,” I answer him and watch the man I once loved with everything in me leave. A man who’s protected me and helped me when he didn’t have to.
If this were another life, today would have been a fairytale. Brody would be my fairytale prince. But this is real life and mine doesn’t fit with his. Instead, I cry myself to sleep, and promise myself that I’ll tell both of them tomorrow. I have to make the promise over and over again just so I can fall asleep, Brody’s text going unread on my phone.
Three years ago
“I hate teething,” I say and the groan that accompanies my statement comes complete with my eyes closed and a hand over my face as Robert comes in through the front door. Slowly opening them, I speak over Bridget’s wail. “I hate it more than I hate heartburn.”
Seriously, I’d take that awful pregnancy heartburn and a bottle of Tums over my baby girl’s teeth coming in. My right leg constantly bounces with her settled on my thigh and clinging to my arm.
At the sight of Robert, she cries louder, as if I’ve been unable to hear her all night and only he can save her.
The prick at the back of my eyes comes back. “I don’t know what to do,” I admit to him.
“Give her here, maybe I can calm her down,” he offers and I give her up.
“Orajel,” I start to rattle off, “strips of frozen waffles …”
“You’ve got all the teething toys out,” Robert says and all of the primary- and pastel-colored rubbery toys on the seat next to me are evidence of that.
“She doesn’t like them.”
“What about … a cold rag?” he asks and I remember I threw one in the freezer last week. It’s just a little washcloth,