CHAPTER NINETEEN
Rosie
A week after the Masquerade Ball party, two things had become clear.
The first was that as much as I thought it would, what had gone down between Lucas and me in that bathroom stall hadn’t changed anything between us.
His smiles hadn’t grown smaller or fewer in number. Our routine was still the same: he cooked for me every night and I watched him from my post at the kitchen island. After dinner, we binged on our show, and when we slipped in bed—and couch—he asked me how many words I’d written that day, and I asked him to tell me something about his day.
His answers usually included something funny or strange he had seen or experienced that day, and mine a decent word count.
Finally.
Because I was writing. Our experiment, our research, even if technically incomplete, was already working. For better or for worse, I was beginning to realize that Lucas might be the closest thing I’d ever have to a muse. And that was… exhilarating and terrifying.
We were friends. We lived together. We went on dates that were not real, that weren’t meant to make a relationship move forward. We shared hot, intimate, hushed moments in bathroom stalls and went on like they hadn’t been more than a dream.
Which brought me to the second thing I’d realized: I was playing a dangerous game. Because as much as this whole thing was helping me, the fact that Lucas’s stay in New York—in my life—had an expiration date was starting to take more and more space in my mind. It was starting to make me desperate to grab every single thing I could take from him before he left. Not for Rosie, Date Night. But for Rosie, Every Other Night.
And I seemed willing to ignore the consequences. The price. Like ignoring I could still feel the imprint of his hands on my skin, or pretending I couldn’t summon the words he’d whispered in my ear. We’d made a pact anyway. We’d said we wouldn’t let the experiment change things between us, affect our friendship. He’d promised he wouldn’t fall in love with me, for crying out loud. And that was probably why nothing had changed for him after the Masquerade Ball.
“You done with this, Rosie?” Sally—the barista at my favorite café in Manhattan—said, jolting me back to reality. She balanced a tray on her hip. “I’ll take your mug away if you are.”
“Yes, thank you.” I grabbed my empty mug and plate for her. “The new cinnamon rolls are amazing, by the way. I’m thinking of taking a couple of them home.”
Because Lucas would love them.
“Want another one for now? Looks like you’re working.” She pointed at the laptop sitting on the table. “You can use some extra fuel.”
“No, thanks. I think I’m going to start wrapping up and head home soon.”
With a nod, she placed everything on the tray and walked back to the counter.
As I finished saving my security backup, a man near the counter caught my attention. He wore a sleek black tux and was tapping his foot on the floor. He stood out like a sore thumb in the casual atmosphere of the coffee shop.
Just like it used to happen once upon a time, my head started imagining the possible scenarios that had brought him here. Maybe he was on his way to a gala, not exactly unusual in Manhattan. Or perhaps he was returning from one and was in sheer need of caffeine. Or who knew, maybe he had slipped unnoticed out of an event and what I’d thought was impatience was actually him fighting the urge to bolt before getting caught. He could be a… runaway groom.
Runaway groom leaves bride at the altar and falls in love at first sight with a barista. Or the pastry master. Or the patron that he spills coffee all over in his haste to escape.
I was smiling to myself, thinking that would be a romance book I’d love to read, when the man turned around and met my gaze.
His eyes widened with recognition.
Runaway Groom was Aiden Castillo, the contractor.
He waved a tentative hand and I returned the gesture with a nod. Then he collected his order and strode in my direction. And as he did, I couldn’t help but notice that I’d overlooked how handsome Aiden Castillo was that day we’d met.
“You look great, Mr. Castillo,” I blurted absently when he reached my table. His eyebrows arched and I shook my head. “Which is a weird way of saying, hi, how are you?”
Mr. Castillo laughed. “I’m doing good, and thank you, I appreciate the compliment.” He lowered his voice as if he was letting me into a secret: “Although if I’m being completely honest… I hate the tux and after the day I’ve had, I’m dying to get it off.”
As curious as I was, asking him to elaborate would be none of my business. So I went with, “Well, that’s too bad.” A loud giggle came from the table closest to the window, and a quick glance told me the source was a small group of teenagers. “Don’t look,” I told him. “But I think you might have a little fan club over there. And they’d be super disappointed if they heard you saying that.”
Mr. Castillo’s expression filled with humor. “Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint them, so I guess we can keep that between us.”
He was a nice man, I thought.
And for some reason, a flashback of me bawling on Lucas’s chest came to mind. “About the other day, during the visit at my apartment, I should probably apologize for how… very uncomfortable that visit must have been for you, so now that I see you here”—I shrugged a shoulder—“I want to, you know, say sorry.”
“No need to apologize,” he said with a wave of his hand. “There’s no point in denying my brother-in-law is an asshole.”
“Oh, so you’re family with Mr. Allen?”
He nodded with a sigh. “For better or for worse.” He seemed to think of something. “Which reminds me, I’m not sure if he’s called you yet and gave you the news.”
I frowned. The news?
“Okay,” Mr. Castillo said. “So he hasn’t, I see.” He shook his head. “I have this policy of no work talk on a Sunday but I think I can make an exception.” A pause. “Your apartment will be ready for you to move back in soon. On Friday, probably.”
Friday.
That was… in five days. Less than a week.
He smiled, and in that moment, I thought of Lucas’s grin. And how Mr. Castillo’s didn’t make me feel… anything.
“Oh,” I breathed out, disappointment settling deep in my stomach.
Disappointment.
Because that meant no more living with Lucas. And soon, our four experimental dates would run out. Because we were on date three out of four, if we counted Halloween as one. Which we probably should; where else would that night fit otherwise?
And after our research was over, if we didn’t live together, I wouldn’t be spending any more time with Lucas.
No more Lucas.
Because after that he’d leave New York, too.
Taking in a deep, shaky breath, I noticed Mr. Castillo frowning.
“That’s good,” I croaked when I recovered. “Really good. Very good. Thank you.”
He tilted his head.
I shook mine, cursing myself for being so silly. I should be happy. This was good news.
“Sorry, I’m just…” Why was my throat feeling dry? “I’m tired and that’s why my face is not showing it, but I’m really happy. Thanks for letting me know, Mr. Castillo.”
That seemed to appease him somehow, because he waved his hand in front of him and said with a new smile, “Please, call me Aiden.”
“Oh, sure.” I tried to return it, willing my lips up. “You can call me Rosie, too.”
“Perfect.” He nodded his head slowly, as if coming up to a decision. “You know, I’m actually very happy I ran into you. I was wondering, now that we…”
The door opened behind Mr. Castillo, his voice fading into the background the moment I noticed the man entering the coffee shop.
My heart did a cartwheel in my chest, the sweetest brand of surprise filling my tummy, even if I had told Lucas that I’d be working here.
Lucas spotted me immediately. He was wearing his blue I NYC cap and his face was parting with that bright smile I wished was just for me. Me, Rosie. Not for Rosie, his roommate or friend.
I watched Lucas stride in my direction, his gaze fastened to mine, moving like a man on a mission, closing the distance almost as quickly as the beating of my heart.
He came to a stop beside Aiden, his focus on me, and said, “Hello, preciosa.”
“Hi,” I answered, the word coming out wobbly at that preciosa.
I’d looked it up. I knew what it meant, and it might be one of my favorite words now that he’d decided to use it on me every time he saw me.
Preciosa. Beautiful. Precious. Gorgeous.
Aiden cleared his throat, reminding me that he was still there. And judging by his expression, he was waiting for… something?
“So, what do you say, Rosie?” Aiden said, looking at me with a small frown. “I know this great place. It’s not far from here, actually.”
I blinked at Aiden. Crap. I had no idea what he might have asked me. I’d gotten distracted. Befuddled by Lucas’s arrival. By that preciosa. By him.
Aiden’s smile faltered, gradually falling. “I was saying that if you’re done here, we could head out and grab a bite.” He paused, and I watched his eyes bouncing up, probably following the motion of my brows shooting to my hairline with shock. Was he… asking me out? He scratched the back of his neck. “I said that if you really didn’t mind the tux, or my fan club, I could take you. I was hoping you…” A strange laugh left him, and I was pretty sure he blushed. “But I think I might have read all of that wrong.”
Okay, he had been asking me out.
My cheeks flamed.
And Lucas was standing right there, not saying a word. Just… watching. In silence. Probably feeling awkward and thinking of a joke he’d make later on.
“I…” I scrambled for an answer. “No, you got that right, Mr. Castillo. The tux is great. You look really handsome.”
It was then that I somehow decided to look over at Lucas. And I couldn’t miss the way he tensed up. In fact, it was hard to miss how he looked down at himself. A quick glance down, as if checking for something.
And because my own gaze followed the motion, it was only then that I spotted the bag hanging off Lucas’s hand. I immediately recognized the takeaway logo on its side.
I looked back at Mr. Castillo, and as if he had been waiting for me to return my attention to him, he said, “Aiden is fine, remember?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lucas’s fingers tightening around the handles of the bag.
My eyes returned to Lucas’s face, his expression neutral, his smile stiff.
“Lucas,” I said, hating the way his mouth pressed in something that wasn’t his smile. “Do you remember Aiden, the contractor?”
Lucas gave him a nod. “Yes, I remember.”
Aiden returned it. “Glad to see you again, Lucas. You’re Rosie’s…” He trailed off.
My heart seemed to stop, waiting, even though I had no reason to anticipate his answer.
It was after what seemed the longest five seconds of my life that Lucas said, “Rosie’s friend.”
I’d be lying if that didn’t hurt the teeniest, tiniest bit. Because it did. As much as it was true.
“Okay, good.” I clapped my hands softly, pushing down what I had no business feeling. “Everyone remembers everyone, that’s good. Really good.”
My eyes bounced from one man to the other, finally settling on Aiden, to whom I still owed an answer.
Rosie’s friend.
Lucas and I were friends.
So I could tell Aiden yes. I could go on this date. It wouldn’t be more than just that, dinner, but I could still go. Perhaps I should go. But every single cell in my body told me that there was food for two in that plastic bag Lucas held in his hand. That Lucas had already planned to have dinner with me, just like we did every day. And as much as it probably didn’t mean anything for Lucas, not more than sharing a meal with his roommate, his friend, it did for me. So much that I realized now how badly I wanted Lucas to be the one asking me out. Taking me, Rosie, out on a date. A real one.
But Lucas didn’t do real dates. Not anymore. Not now. He’d been clear about that.
“Thank you for the offer, Aiden.” I gave him a polite smile. “But I think I’m going to head home.”
I was busy gauging Aiden’s reaction, because disappointing people gave me anxiety and because I liked Aiden and I feared I was making him feel awkward, when Lucas spoke.
“With me,” he said, making my heart flap, flap, flap in my chest. “She’s going home with me.”
His tone hadn’t been loud, or brash. He hadn’t even injected any emotion in his words, which was so rare for him. And yet, that “with me” had been so powerful, so meaningful for me, that I knew it’d be imprinted in my memory for a long time.
Because he’d talked as if I were his.
“Yeah,” I felt the need to explain. To Aiden? Myself? I didn’t know. “We’re living together at the moment, while my apartment is being fixed.”
Understanding dawned in Aiden’s expression. “Oh, right. That makes sense.” He nodded his head. “Okay, so I guess Ed—Mr. Allen—will give you a call at some point this week to talk details about you moving back.” He gave me one last smile. “Have a good night, Rosie.” He turned to his left. “Lucas.”
And with that, Aiden disappeared through the door of the café.
When I finally looked over at Lucas, I found his eyes on me. His expression was still the same. Off. “Moving back?”
“Oh,” I said, busying myself as I gathered my stuff and threw it in my laptop bag. “Aiden told me that I might be able to move back to my place on Friday.” Hearing how somber my voice had sounded, I faked an enthusiastic, “Yay!”
Lucas hesitated for the tiniest moment, but then a genuine, real smile—not whatever had been going on with his mouth until now—took over his face. “Ah, that’s amazing, Ro.” He placed his hands on my shoulders, then turned me around to face him before bringing me to his chest. And I… I melted right into him, because I was foolish and helpless where Lucas was concerned. “This is great news.”
At least someone thought it was.
He released me and watched me as I stumbled backward. I fumbled with my jacket, trying to hide my dazed expression.
“We should celebrate,” Lucas suggested. And I nodded with more fake enthusiasm. “Good that I have Chicken Karaage. For two. Probably for four, actually.” He lifted the takeaway bag in the air, and my chest constricted because I had been right. He’d picked up dinner for me, too. Of course he had. “We can open some wine, too.”
“Sounds amazing.” I managed a wobbly smile.
Lucas reached for my packed laptop bag and hung it across his chest. “Let’s go home, then.” He took a tiny step backward, letting me through first. “After you, preciosa.”
My step faltered at hearing that word again, but I kept moving forward.
Let’s go home, then.
Home. With Lucas.
Not for much longer, though.