“Are you done?” I see the tic in his jaw. He’s still pissed and trying not to lose his temper.
“We fix the car, and whatever is left, I’ll invest.” I might as well put this fancy degree to work. “I’ve done the math. Within five years I’ll make all the money back if I do safe investments, but if I—”
“No. I’ll get the car fixed and I’ll get you the money you’re wanting to invest. I’ll get a weekend job.” He’s already picking up some Saturdays even though his job is salary and doesn’t pay for extra time. He and his team are on some new project he’s leading, and it already eats up every moment he’s away from home.
“You’re missing the point,” I say softly as he moves away from my touch, and I drop my hand.
“That makes two of us,” he says before he turns around and walks back out the door.
It’s two hours later when Darian comes back home, but the moment we lock eyes, I go to him. He holds me close, and I breathe in his scent as I feel every muscle in my body relax.
“You’re right, Rosy. I’m sorry I got upset. I just want to give you everything.”
“I know,” I mumble against his chest.
“And I will. One day, we’ll look back on this and laugh.” He leans back, and when I look up at him, he brushes the hair out of my eyes. “As hard as it is for me to see you sacrifice for us, I know that it was what your grandpa would have wanted, and more importantly what you would have wanted.” I nod, and he lets out a sigh. “But next time you tell me first.”
“I promise,” I answer, and I mean it. I felt sick all day keeping this from him, and I can’t imagine wanting to go through it again. The ends justified the means, but we’re a team, and he deserves to know everything.
“I love you, my sweet girl.”
“I love you too.” When I push up on my tiptoes, he’s already there waiting to meet my kiss with his own. “You talked to Lindsey, didn’t you?” I smile against his lips as he nods.
“Stop gloating and get those pants off,” he teases, pushing me toward the bedroom.
It turns out that make-up sex might be worth fighting for.
Chapter 8
Darian
Two years later…
It’s Sunday, and I’ve got a rare day off. The sun is shining, summer is close, and I’ve got my wife under my arm as we walk in the park.
We’re not where I thought we would be two years ago, but we’re getting there. We’re still in our little studio near the diner, and Rosy still works there waiting tables and doing the bookkeeping. She seems happy, but there’s more she needs, more that I want to give her.
I know that I don’t need much to fill my heart, because being next to her is enough. But there’s always this part of me that knows I can do more for her, and that’s the part that won’t let me stay content.
“Why don’t you let me take you to get your nails done today?” I look down at the chipped nail polish, and it’s a reminder of how hard she works. She deserves to be pampered.
“Why? It will just come off, and then I’ll have to do it all over again.” She leans up on her toes and kisses my cheek. “Seems like a waste of money.”
I sigh as I pull her close, and we walk around the curved path through the park. It’s one of our favorite things to do when I’ve got time off of work, mostly because it’s free. It’s also a quiet place to talk that’s away from home and work, and my sisters who like to steal Rosy from me every chance they get.
“What do you want to do for dinner tonight?” Rosy asks as we fall into step. “I could make some spaghetti, or spaghetti, or maybe spaghetti?”
“Spaghetti would be good,” I tease, and we laugh just as someone walks by and bumps into my shoulder. “Oh man, I’m sorry I—”
“Darian,” the guy says as he looks at me and then my wife. “Oh hey, Rosy, I heard you two got married.”
“Hey, Colt,” Rosy says, and I can tell by the tone on her voice this isn’t a happy reunion. It takes me a second but then I remember Colt was one of the assholes from high school that I’d already long forgotten.
“So how’s it going with you guys?” He smiles between us, and my arm slides down to Rosy’s waist. “You two live around here?” He glances behind us to the crummy apartment building that’s exactly where we live.
“We’re good. You?” I purposely skip over the second question to try and get away from Colt as quickly as possible.