Page 45 of My Rose

“You kind of look like your mother.” I stiffened under her touch, and her brow furrowed. “Did I hurt you?” she asked as she looked down at my ribs.

I shook my head. “No, Rose. You didn’t hurt me.” I pulled her closer to me, staring back at the young boy I once was. “I always thought I saw more of my dad in me than her.”

“I don’t think so. She has the same dimple, and the way you smile is the exact same.”

I smoothed my palm down her back. “Is that so?”

She pushed me back to evaluate. “Yes. Just like her. Is she with your father in Amsterdam right now?”

I exhaled the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding for some time now. “No. She um…she left. Not too long after that photo was taken, actually.” Her eyes softened, looking somewhat glassy.

Instead of a slew of apologies or adding her own similar stories to mine, like most people did when they heard that, she just said, “We should finish eating. I don’t want Rhonda to think I’m rude and don’t like her food. And then, I want to go snoop around more.”

I chuckled, the weight of my past lifting from my shoulders more than it had in years. “Snoop away, babe.”

“Have you really read all of these?”

“Is thatreallyso hard to believe?” I leaned back against my headboard, feeling more relaxed than I ever had in my bed, even with the bruise along my side that burned as I settled into the mattress.

“Kind of. Between the tattoos and the muscles, I didn’t exactly peg you for a romantic. Half of these books are about love, but the other half makes more sense.”

I arched a brow, challenging her. “Oh yeah? Which book would you say most closely suits me, then?”

Her fingers dipped in and out of uneven spines before she pulled one out. “This. This one seems most like you.”

I swiped my tongue over my bottom lip and crossed my arms over my chest. “That is possibly my least favorite on the shelf, Rose. Come on, try again.” Her forehead wrinkled, and then she turned and started searching for something opposite the George Orwell one she pulled. I may have excelled in business topics, which usually went hand-in-hand with politics, but I absolutely hated politics. If I wasn’t so good at business, I’d hate it, too. That particular book she pulled was a gift from Dean, ironically, as a gag gift. I remember chucking it right at his head one Christmas when I was maybe ten or so, probably pissed it wasn’t a journal for the hobby I did have an interest in.

“This.” She pulled out the one of Ovid again, the one she first gravitated toward earlier.

“Nowyou see me.” I winked, and her cheeks blushed over.

“So, you’re a romantic, then?”

“I’ve never had anyone to be romantic with.” I paused, looking her over. The way her hair fell over her shoulder begged to be wrapped around my fist, but I also wanted to see it on my pillowcase or draped over my chest.Romanticwasn’t exactly how I was feeling at that moment.Feralwas probably closer. “I guess we’ll find out?”

Her head cocked to the side. “Will we? We haven’t really talked about what we are yet. What if I don’t want to be with you?”

I groaned. “Don’t make me get up, I finally got comfortable.” My fists curled in, thinking back to how great it felt to punch August and watch the color drain from his face. How much I’d do it all over again if anyone ever touched her or tried to, let alone call her anything other than her real goddamn name.

“I’m serious.” She moved to the edge of the bed across from me and sat.

“If you think you are anything other than mine, then maybe I should be second-guessing your sanity, Rose.” Her lips rolled in as she glanced at the tattoos covering my arms. I knew which one she was so fixated on, but decided to wait for her to ask me about it when that time came.

“So, if I tried to go on a date…” Her voice aimed to taunt me, and it was fucking working.

My eyes flared at the thought, and my knuckles grew tight. “Try to date them, babe. See what happens to them the next day. The only man you’ll be seeing is me. Let me make that clear to you now. I want you, and I know you want me. I am yours just as much as you are mine. I believe that makes you my girlfriend or whatever else you want to call it, does it not?”

“Girlfriend. Mmm.”

“Rose.”

She pouted. “You weren’t even going to ask?”

I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her back to me, letting us fall together until we were lying on the bed. Her hair rested on my chest without an ounce of resistance from her as she cuddled against me. I usually wasn’t in a position to have to ask for things, I just took it. Getting her permission was going to be the sweetest gift I’d ever received.

“Rose, will you be my girlfriend?” She angled her head along my chest, her vibrant, blue eyes locking onto mine.

And then she flipped, propping her body up by her elbows. “I don’t know, I’ll have to think about it.”

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