Page 45 of Faking the Pass
Fuck.I tried for about the fortieth time to button my shirt one-handed and failed.
I probably wouldn’t have been so frustrated with it, but I’d barely slept last night. When Rosie had finally stopped crying, I’d walked with her back to my bedroom then took myself to the guest room toattemptto recover.
Seeing her like that haddonesomething to me.
I’d never really been a sucker for womens’ tears. At least when I’d broken up with women before and they’d cried, it hadn’t changed my mind.
But seeing Rosie so defeated—and knowing what she was about to go through—it was all I could do to keep from putting my remaining good hand through the wall.
But I didn’t, because I needed it to hold the steering wheel while I drove her to the press conference.
Last night she kept insisting she would order a ride on one of her apps, but there was no way I was letting her walk down the driveway to meet a driver at the street like some sort of scarlet woman doing a walk of shame.
She was already up and dressed, reading in the living room, when I got there.
“Hey. You got up early.”
“I was having trouble sleeping,” she said. “At some point I gave up trying and came in here to get lost in my comfort read.”
Peeking up from behindMiss Marjoribanksshe looked me over, taking in my dress pants and the dress shirt that hung open thanks to my button failure.
Her eyes lingered a bit on my exposed chest and abs.
“No muscle t-shirt today?” she asked.
That was pretty much all I’d been wearing since my surgery since regular shirts were either impossible or extremely painful to put on and take off.
“I didn’t think it would be appropriate attire for Bellevue Manor,” I quipped. “Besides, they’ll be snapping pictures as we drive away. I don’t go out in public like that.”
Looking down at myself, I added, “Or likethis.Would you mind helping me with the buttons?”
“Sure.”
Rosie put her book down and came to me but stopped and hesitated a second before stepping close enough to actually reach the buttons.
As she fastened them, I looked down at her. She had on makeup today, but it couldn’t quite hide the dark circles under her eyes.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said softly.
She sucked in a breath then looked up at me. “I do. You know it, and I know it. I can’t hide here forever.”
It was true. I couldn’t keep doing this either.
Rosie was a major distraction—something I didn’t usually allow in my life, something I couldn’t afford, especially right now.
Besides, she was determined to go through with this, and she was a grown woman. In spite of the stuff I’d said yesterday when I was angry, I wouldn’t stop her even if I were capable of it.
I nodded, and she offered me a brave smile.
“It’s only a year. And what’s the alternative, right?” she said.
“Right.”
There didn’t seem to be one. But I didn’t like it.
The whole time I was cooking breakfast for us, my mind stayed on her question. Whatwasthe alternative?
There had to be something better than her lying on her sword and paying the full price for Randy’s lies.
