Page 47 of The Love Destroyers

Mrs. Dahlia Rosings

I laugh, and it hurts my head.

“Theywerefrom that delightful woman,” I tell Chuck, amused by her even if she’s most definitely a silver spoon lady with high-handed manners. I would have given good money to overhear those phone calls. Because there must have been multiple calls to have made the nurse at the hospital so nervous. This also explains the charcuterie plate that was brought to my room.

“She has a good heart,” he says, fussing with one of the bouquets, which looks very much like all of the rest. He plucks one of the dahlias and moves it to a new spot, whichdoeslook better, although how he knew is a mystery to me. My brother Declan is the plant guy.

“Oh?” I ask, because it’s impossible not to catch what he’s putting out. So he does have a thing for the battle-ax. The dessert invitation he made the other night wasn’t an aberration.

He turns and smiles at me. “She invited me over to Smith House on Friday night to make crème brûlée. You know…because we invited her over last week.”

“That was all you, man,” I say, relieved his interest seems to be reciprocated. Chuck’s a nice guy, and sure, Mrs. Rosings is an intimidating woman who tried to crack my head open, but I like her well enough. It would be hard not to, with how invested she is in helping Emma. “Just the two of you, huh?” I wiggle my eyebrows and immediately regret it. “Sounds cozy.”

“I’m sure she would have invited you too, if you weren’t doing your thing.”

I give him one of thoseare you for real?looks Emma is so good at. “You know this is a date, man, don’t you? She invited you over to make French desserts on a Friday night.”

“Oh, no,” he says, his expression shocked. “It couldn’t be. She knows I’m married. We had a conversation about it at the kids’wedding. Dahlia’s had her share of marital problems too in the past. We commiserated.”

“And I’m hoping you mentioned the reason you want to get divorced is because your wife is—”fucking the swami, “—uhh, in a cult, and you haven’t talked to her for two and half years?”

He turns around the ring he’s still wearing on his ring finger, staring off into the distance. A deep sigh gusts from him. “Claire’s mother didn’t respond to my letter. And I know she received it, because I spoke with the young man who delivered it. I hired a courier so I could be sure. He took a video of her lighting it on flame after she read it. I’m sure someone else told her she had to do that.”

“Even so, I’d say it’s time to officially move on,” I tell him, hoping he hears me. Chuck is a nice-as-hell guy,too nice, and it’s past time for him to stop taking shit from a woman who left him without a backward glance.

“I suppose so.” He scratches the back of his head. “Emma did give me some good advice about going through with the divorce.”

This catches my attention. As far as I knew, Emma had discussed it with him at the wedding, told him there wasn’t a whole lot she could do since she wasn’t currently practicing, and left it at that. I’d been disappointed, to be honest.

“Yeah,” he continues. “She wrote me a long email after New Year’s. I couldn’t bring myself to read it until a couple of weeks ago. We talked about it a little at dinner the other night, too, right before they left.” His eyes brighten. “Maybe Dahlia was listening.”

“No doubt,” I murmur, rubbing my jaw, taken aback by how relieved I am to hear it. All of it. “That was good of Emma, huh?”

He gives me a significant look. “She’s a thoughtful young woman.”

“She’s certainly something.”

Sexy. Bossy. Funny. Smart as hell. And now compassionate. Everything you could want a woman to be, with a little more thrown in, just to mess with people.

Maybe Shadow will be okay, after all.

But I still can’t get involved with Emma.

“So,” I say, wanting to get the subject off Emma. “What’re you going to do? Are you going to treat it like it’s a date, or are you going to tell thatdelightfulwoman who wants to make desserts with you that you’d prefer to remain faithful to a woman who’s lived in another state for over two years and won’t go to her own daughter’s wedding.”

Chuck fusses with his hands for a second, as if he doesn't know what to do with them, then gives me a determined look and says, “I’m taking my wedding ring off.”

“Yeah?” I ask, getting psyched up for him. “Hell, yeah, you are. You’re going to be free, man. Have I ever told you about my close brush with marriage?”

“No,” he says and gives me his full attention.

Here’s something else I like about Chuck. He’s always truly hungry for other people’s stories, and not because he wants to run off and share them with someone else. He genuinely wants to empathize with everyone—swing up to their highs and bear with them through the lows. Of course, that’s not to say he wouldn’t run off and tell everyone, but my sister and brother know a bit about this anyway. Enough so it wouldn’t be news.

“I was young and stupid,” I say. “She wanted me to be someone I wasn’t. Made me think it was a good idea for a while, but I saw the light.”

Chuck is already shaking his head. “It would be different with the right woman, son.”

I have to smile at that. “How wouldyouknow?”

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