Page 12 of Seven Summers Ago
Staring directly in my eyes, Rosie says, “Leaving? Of course not,honey.” She bats her eyelashes at me, her jaw set, and before I know it—we’re in a showdown. “Why don’t you introduce me to your date?”
“Rosie,” I say through gritted teeth, feeling my nostrils flare.
She steps closer. “Last night I was honey.”
“Last night?” Sasha’s brows lift. “I think I should go.”
I take a hold of her arm. “No, no. No. Please, stay.” Exhaling a long breath, I mutter, “Sasha, Rosie, Rosie, Sasha.”
Sasha puts out her hand reluctantly. Something tells me there won’t be a second date. “Nice to meet you.”
Rosie shakes it. “It’s so nice to meet you, Sasha. I’m Rosie, Beck’s wife.”
I throw my head back. “Dammit Rosie.”
“You’re married?” Sasha shrieks, tugging her arm free from my grip. “I knew there had to be something. But married?” She picks up her purse from the chair.
“No. Sasha, wait.”
“You’re either married or you’re not. Which is it?”
“It’s…complicated.”
“Beck, it’s been fun. Really.” With a palm to my cheek, she gives it a pat. “But I don’t have time for complicated.” She storms off.
I watch her go before whipping around to face Rosie, who has too big of a smile on her face. “You happy?”
She narrows her eyes, taking a few small steps closer until the toes of our boots touch and she has to peer up at me. “No. Sign the divorce papers. Then I’ll be happy.”
“You’re unbelievable.” I grit my teeth and tear off my hat, running my fidgeting hand through my hair. “What happened, you moved to Seattle and forgot your manners? Forgot how to be a civilized person? Jeez, Rosie.”
Stella and Jack approach, and I should’ve known Stella would bring Rosie to The Sandbar. It’s not like there’s many options in Golden Harbor.
“Hey, Beck. I thought you were busy tonight. How’ve you been?” Jack gives me a fist bump.
“Been better,” I mutter, shoving my hat back on my head. “Thanks to this one.” I hike a thumb in Rosie’s direction.
With her hands on her hips, she says, “Nuh-uh, don’t blame me for your date going south. You brought it on yourself.”
Stella cringes as she mindlessly offers Rosie a beer. “You were on a date?”
“Yeah. Iwas.” I glare at Rosie again.
“Tell him to sign the divorce papers and he will be free to go on however many dates he wants.” She presses the bottle to her lips and takes a drink.
“Free?” I snap. “Apparently that didn’t stop you,” I grit out.
“I didn’t mean free, of course…Not like that. I just meant, ya know, I won’t get in the way and mess up any more of your dates.” She stumbles over her words.
For a second I think she might actually feel guilty that she’s moved on. That she’s shacking up with some rich asshole. But why should she? Just because a piece of paper says we’re still married doesn’t mean anything. Clearly it doesn’t mean anything to her.
“Wait…” Jack speaks slowly, his eyes flicking between me and Rosie, his head tilted slightly. “You two are still married?”
I glance down at my boots.
“It’s not like I haven’t tried. Beck won’t sign the papers.” Rosie tosses a hand in my direction.
I can’t help but look at her, as though I’m waiting for her to continue spilling our business to everyone at this entire bar.
