Page 7 of In This Together

Rosalie rolled her eyes. ‘Poor Daddy. He’s so hard-working. The usual would be fabulous.’

Though family run, the restaurant was not traditionally Italian in feel. It was bright and airy, with a wall of windows looking onto the street, white furniture and table-tops decorated with succulents in ceramic planters. The glasses and cutlery always gleamed under the overhead lights. The kitchen was exposed to the eyes of diners, meaning it was immaculately clean.

Rosalie slipped her heels out of her shoes under the table so that they hung loosely on her pinched toes, and she leaned back against the padded seat to enjoy her first sip of wine.

How had she been dumped, again? She was a catch, wasn’t she?

She was beautiful and slim. She had great taste in music, décor and clothes. Food and beverages were something she was expert in. And she did run her own design business, kind of – was it a business if she never asked for payment for her services? True, it had also been some months since she had designed the interior of a property, but she had to be careful with the projects she chose. Any interior designer was only worth the reputation of her last client, and they had to be big names. She had not got into the business to design just any old room for just any ordinary person. She designed perfect homes for her friends and nothing gave her more pleasure than to see them and their families happy in beautiful surrounds.

The effort she had put into Stella’s mansion in the Hamptons had even earned the home a feature onCribs!

See, she wasn’t irresponsible. She sort of worked. A lot of wealthy women didn’t work at all. Most of her friends didn’t. Other than a few years of modelling, Mommy hadn’t worked a day in her life, but Rosalie had. It might not be traditional hours, but not everyone had the great eye for colours and placement that she had.

And frivolous? How could she be guilty of throwing away money if it was her own money?

She never asked any of the men she was dating for a dime. The trust fund she’d gained access to fifteen years ago, when she was twenty-one, had been invested and earned a small fortune. She didn’t need to be supported; it would just be nice if someonewantedto support her, that was all.

She didn’t wait much longer before her father came through the door to the restaurant, dapper as ever in a sharp blue suit and crisp white shirt.

‘Sorry, kiddo,’ he said, kissing Rosalie on both cheeks.

She beamed. ‘It’s no problem, Daddy. Is work busy?’

‘When is it not? It might have been nice for you to cross the river into Brooklyn just one time,’ he said without malice.

‘But this is our favourite and, well, Daddy, I’ve been dumped.’

Mauricio topped off Rosalie’s glass and poured one for her father, who audibly appreciated his first mouthful. ‘By the man you brought to dinner the other night?’

She nodded. ‘Mmm hmm. What’s wrong with me, Daddy?’

‘There’s nothing wrong with you, kiddo. You just know what you like and it intimidates men, that’s all.’

She smiled. ‘You think so?’

‘I know so. What are you ordering?’

‘The usual.’

‘See. A woman who knows what she likes,’ he added with a wink.

Rosalie chuckled. Her father always knew exactly the right thing to say. ‘I got a new dress today for the memorial concert for Sir Presley John next week.’

‘You did?’

‘Yes. I think you’ll like it. It’s blue, your favourite.’

‘Kiddo, anything is my favourite on you. Just make sure you coordinate with your mother this time. We don’t need a fall-out.’

They ordered food and talked about the usual things –hiswork,hersocial calendar. They ate their food and drank their wine. Rosalie loved their lunch catch-ups. Her father had so many stories and even the ones he repeated she never got tired of hearing. He was intelligent and funny, not at all the shark CEO the media portrayed him to be. He was gentle and kind, a real family man. He was the kind of man Rosalie wanted by her side but just couldn’t seem to get, or keep.

As their plates were cleared and after they had turned down the offer of the dessert menu, Rosalie asked, ‘Daddy, do you think I’m irresponsible?’

‘Irresponsible? Why would you ask that?’

‘Well, George basically said that’s why he was breaking up with me. And, you know, some of my friends have busy jobs, like Andrea, or have kids, like Hannah.’

Her father dabbed the side of his lips with his napkin then set it down on the table, all the while seeming to think of his next words. ‘You have plenty of friends who don’t have full-time jobs or kids, Rosalie.’

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