Page 13 of Better Not Pout
Rosalie has a striped red-and-white apron tied around her neck with the shop’s logo stretched across the center of her chest. The soft curls of her dark hair fall loosely around her as she lets out a fake, weirdly high-pitched laugh that has my brows pulling tight as I watch.
Her fingers fly to her hair, and she picks up a strand, twirling the end through her fingers as she babbles on, and now that I’m closer, I can hear the conversation.
She’s so focused on the two standing across from her that she hasn’t even realized I’m here, which feels a bit concerning for her self-awareness after that loud-ass bell jingled when I entered.
Is she not paying attention like that when the store is open late at night and she’s here all alone?
Fuck, Wells, why are you worried about what the girl does? Your business is on the other side of that wall, not here. Nother.
“Yeah, it’s been a long time. Um.” Rosalie laughs awkwardly again, her throat moving in a rough swallow. “And this is…”
The guy standing across from her nods, reaching out to place his hand along the small of the woman’s back. “This is my fiancée, Jessica.”
The look on Rosalie’s face is immediate, her eyes widening, the flush on her cheeks staining even darker pink, her gaze bouncing back and forth between the two of them. “Your…fiancée?” Her voice is a squeak, and now I’m fully invested.
Clearly, this is not a comfortable conversation for her. I shift on my feet, and finally, her panicked eyes flick to mine, widening ever so slightly at the realization that I’m here, but she quickly turns her attention back to the girl when she starts babbling.
“Yes! We actually just got engaged over Thanksgiving at this breathtaking cabin in Vail. Bradley got on one knee in the middle of the ski slopes and proposed to me, right in the middle of the snow,” the woman says, looking over at him and lifting her hand to cradle his cheek before extending the same one out toward Rosalie and wiggling her fingers. “It wasthemost romantic moment of my life. He picked out the exact ring I had always envisioned for myself. It was just like fate, honestly.”
Rosalie hums awkwardly as she looks down at the ring, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head.
That ring is a fucking tragedy, if I’m being honest. Sure, it’s a rock that probably cost a fortune, weighing down her finger, but it’s also gaudy, flashy in a way that you know is only for the benefit of others and not her.
“Listen, I know that we had a bit of a messy breakup, but I’d really love for that to be water under the bridge,” the douche canoe with his loafers and too-tight chinos mutters to Rosalie.
Oh, fuck. This guy is herex?
No wonder she looks like she’s currently the recipient of a colonoscopy. This idiot brought his fiancée in here to what… rub it in her face?
At least that’s the way it seems to be from where I’m standing.
What a motherfucker.
Before Rosalie even has a chance to say anything back, he continues yapping. “Jessica and I had a really long, vulnerable discussion about our pasts and how we want to go into our marriage with only happiness and nothing to hold us back. It was actually her idea to come in here today.”
Yeah, I bet it was.
Rolling my eyes, I lean against the glass display, crossing my arms over my chest as I watch this shitshow unfold.
“I’ll just ask it,” his fiancée says brightly, tossing her long, sleek blonde hair over her shoulder flippantly. “We wanted to know if Sweet Sullivan’s would be willing to cater our engagement party in a couple of weeks? I know it’s a bit last-minute, but we’re only in town until Boxing Day for the party and to spend the holidays with Bradley’s family. And honestly, I couldn’t think of anyone better. Or anything more, you know… full circle to have this happen?”
Rosalie’s face turns white, or maybe even a little green tinted, like she’s going to puke on the two standing across from her.
“You make the most incredible sweets in the entire town, Rosalie. No one else will be able to do it on such short notice,” Douchebag adds. “C’mon, for old time’s sake?”
“I-I—” she starts, then stops, her lips snapping back together as she swallows, and her gaze darts to mine, only for a second, before she looks back at him. “I… I guess, I don’t kn?—”
“It would mean the world to my parents too,” the guy cuts her off, pasting on a smile that can only be described as predatorily fake. “You know how much they support this little business of your family’s when they can. My father’s running for mayor again this year, and I think he’s been discussing the campaign with your grandfather. They were worried that things might be awkward, but I assured them that you were the bigger person, and it wouldn’t be an issue. I told Mom, of course Rosalie wouldn’t be hung up on a silly past relationship. It wasn’t ever that serious.”
Jesus, this guy’s a fucking prick.
Rosalie’s face is stricken as her eyes turn watery, and fuck, I can’t watch this guy do this shit to her.
I have no fucking clue what I’m doing, but what I do know is that I can’t stand here and watch her be subjected to this shit any longer. I’m a dick sometimes, but I’m notthatmuch of a dick.
“Hey, baby,” I murmur roughly as I walk around the counter to Rosalie and slip an arm around her waist, tugging her gently against my side. “Sorry I’m late. My run took forever. You kept me up so late last night, I’m fucking exh?—”
A throat clears, and I look away from Rosalie’s wide, now surprised gaze to the dumbass standing across from us. “I’m sorry, who are you? We’re in the middle of a conversation?”
