Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
Much Arlock was quite busy on a Friday night. We got a table for two by the window at the restaurant, talking quietly amidst the thrum in the restaurant and gazing at the street outside.
It was a world away from Crenham, and very different to the city of Oxford. The contrast was a welcome relief. Something fresh, and new, like the beautiful creature sitting opposite me with a glass of wine in her hand.
Having a car had other benefits alongside transport. It would stop me drinking.
I was sipping on soda water, immune to the call of whisky. Tonight, at least, that immunity was enough to see me through.
“I’ve never done anything like this before,” Rosie said as she finished up her chocolate fudge cake. “Nobody has ever taken me out like this.”
“I’m pleased to be your first.”
If my sensitivity to the way some of the guys were shooting glances in her direction was anything to go by, I’d be pleased to be her last, also. The very idea of another man sitting opposite my angel for a romantic dinner was enough to churn over the freshly eaten steak in my guts.
The roads were beautifully lit as we made our return to the dregs of our usual life. Every mile on the return felt like a travesty, as though neither of us belonged there. I was tempted to turn the car around and seek out somewhere else for us right there in the moment, but I remembered the hurt in Rosie’s eyes at the thought of ever leaving her mother. I couldn’t do that to her. When and if it was time to leave Crenham would be Rosie’s decision to make. In the meantime, Crenham would have to do.
It was dark when we arrived back at the apartment and opened the door. I reached inside for the light switch, and something scuffed against my shoe as I stepped on in. I bent down to pick up the roll of cash, bound up in what looked like a hair tie. I was pondering over it when I saw Rosie’s expression. She choked back a sob as she tried to keep her voice steady.
“That must be from my mum.” She took the cash from my hand, staring at it in horror. “I put some through her letterbox, because I knew she’d be struggling with the bills, and I wanted her to be safe, and I wanted her to keep taking my help… but she doesn’t want it… now she’s got paid she’s giving it back, but she must need it, though. She must.”
I followed the thread and pulled Rosie close. It wasn’t about the money, of course, it was about what it symbolised. A rejection of help. A rejection of love.
“She doesn’t want it, because she doesn’t want me,” Rosie cried, and I could have cursed out loud at her poor kind heart being broken.
“It’s not that she doesn’t want you, sweetheart, it’s that she’s angry at me.”
“I was angry at Scott too, and a whole load of the other pricks she was with over the years, but I didn’t push her away because of it, did I? I still loved her.”
“And she still loves you. She just can’t accept me. You’re her little girl. Little being the key word here.”
Rosie pulled away from me and wiped the tears from her eyes. She took a deep breath and her gaze changed from sorrow to strength, right before me.
“We’ll see how much she loves me then, won’t we? Because I’m not letting you go. If Mum really loves me, she’s going to have to love you, too.”
With that, she headed on into our living room and dropped her pretty butt down on our treasured chesterfield. She patted the seat beside her.
“I mean it, Julian. This is my home now. You are my home. And if Mum wants to come and visit us, she can do, it’s just one flight of stairs. But I’m not running back down to my old life there. I couldn’t do it, even if I wanted to. You’re way too important.”
I sat down next to her and took her hand in mine, very, very relieved at her words.
Rosie wasn’t the only one who couldn’t head back to her old life. Mine was already burned to dust for all time. There was no doubt about it. My instincts had been right all along.
If my angel Rosie turned her back on me now, I’d do nothing but rot in hell.
Chapter Thirty-One
Rosie
I’d seen pictures of Peter, but people always seem to look different in person. He was short, and thick set, with huge shoulders and some really impressive biceps on him showing through his t-shirt. His eyes were a lovely deep blue and his stubble was rough, which suited him. I’d heard plenty of stories about how fun he was from Lola, and how loud his laugh was, but I could tell as he shook Julian’s hand that he was anxious, as though he was at a job interview rather than coming to hang out with some new friends. I saw then what Lola had been talking about. The world of Dine’s Green must have put him through a hell of a lot of judgement and heartache.