Page 84 of Space Balls: Houston, We Have Liftoff
I snicker. “Drew P. Weiner. Classic.”
“Yes. Classic Rose West.” He stares intently at me. “I could never be disappointed in you.”
I am not crying.
“And you are going to be afantasticmom.”
I may be crying.
When the first tear falls, we both mutually pull back, me mumbling about hormones, him straightening his desk blotter.
Though I’ve always cared about John and knew he cared about my academic career, this is the first time we’ve gotten personal.
I clear my throat. “So what you’re saying is it only took three and a half years for me to drive you to retirement?”
The joke falls flat, but he smiles nonetheless. “That’s right. You’re my swan song.” He clears his own throat, both of us pretending we aren’t emotional idiots. “And I couldn’t be prouder.”
“I’m glad you’re not disappointed that I’m not doing something noteworthy or monumental.” I put on a snooty accent. “Something deserving of the West name and status.”
“But youaredoing something worthy and monumental.” He gestures to my stomach. “And I really couldn’t care less about the West name and status.” His eyes narrow, assessing my expression. “And neither should you.”
That earns him a watery smile. “You’re one cool dude, John.”
He raises his hands, accepting my compliment with a smile. “That’s what they tell me.”
As the tension of the emotionally charged moment dissipates, I lean back in my chair, my legs falling open into a full-on man-spread. I’m lighter now that all my pre-meeting anxiousness is gone. That’s when I notice his non tapping hand. His wedding ring hand. Which, for the first time since I’ve known him, is bare.
“John, John, John.” Pulling my hairband out, I use both hands to give my hair a good shake, bringing back its volume and crazy. Feeling more like myself than I have since I found out Vance slipped one past the goalie. “I’ve got a great retirement gift for you.”
Twenty
#youreadick
Rose
I’m fine.This is fine. Everything is fine.
From my seat in the back of Brass Tacks, I repeat the mantra I’ve been replaying in my mind as I watch Vance scan the room for me. As always, he looks sexy as hell in a sapphire blue, long-sleeve pocket tee, well-worn jeans, and laced boots.
I’m wedged between two ficus plants. But maybe I should’ve chosen the seat under the air vent because I’m sweating like a pig at a barbecue.
Vance sees me and smiles. Damn those sexy eye crinkles.
I pull my polo shirt away from my chest, trying to generate some air circulation. After leaving John’s office, I didn’t have time to go back home and change into something more me before meeting with Vance. I also didn’t trust myself not to cancel if I didn’t head straight here from campus.
Vance finds his way to me. “Rosie-girl.”
Ugh, he’s trying to kill me before I even start. “Vance.” Just as with my presentation, I keep my tone even and professional.
Vance frowns. I wonder if he notices I look more like a member of the LPGA than I do myself.
Palm extended, I gesture to the chair across from me. “Take a seat.”
He sits, his eyes never leaving mine.
I take a fortifying deep breath. “So—”
“I’m sorry.” Vance reaches out, taking one of my hands in both of his, looking mildly panicked. “I didn’t mean to ghost you this past week. I just needed to do some thinking.”
