“Jesus Christ,” she muttered. “Yes, Lucas. Of course, Rosie loves you. She’s in love with you.”She’s in love with you.She’s in love with me. “Why else would she chase you down at a freaking airport and offer to follow you anywhere? That was her grand gesture, and trust me, as big into romance as she is, she’s never done something like that. Not for anyone. Not ever. Rosie thinks everything through; she plans. And she blew up her rules for you.”
And I didn’t even say a word when she did. I broke her heart instead. “I can’t give her anything, Lina. Not a single thing.”
Because life wasn’t as easy as saying yes and being with her. Life wasn’t as simple as following your heart and hoping for the best.
What kind of a man would she have beside her every day? One that didn’t live up to her expectations. One that couldn’t give her anything. One without a future or a plan.
“She doesn’t want anything from you. She just wants you. Lovesyou. Don’t you understand?” Lina said after a beat.
I did and I didn’t.
Justmewasn’t enough. Perhaps that would be enough for now, but not in the long run. “Just me is not enough.”
“Oh, Lucas.” Lina sighed. “You really don’t see, do you?”
I didn’t have an answer for that because Lina didn’t even know the whole story. Unless Rosie had told her, which I doubted. She’d never do that, I fully trusted her. I—
“Rosie…” She trailed off, as if hesitating whether she should say. “She’ll kill me if she finds out I told you but… she wrote you a goddamn book.”
The ground under my feet shook again.
“Shewhat?”
“Her book. I’d read her first one, obviously. And it was good. She’s—”
“I know,” I rasped. I’d read it, too. I had it memorized by now.
“But this one? This one story you somehow inspired with your little experiment?” A pause, and I felt the thrumming of my heart in my temples, banging in my ears. “Jesus, that freaking book punched the air straight out of my chest. I don’t remember ever smiling that big, crying that bad, or clutching my chest that hard. And I…”
Lina trailed off again, leaving that unfinished.
“And what?” I breathed out.
“I could see you in those pages, Lucas. It was you. I have no idea how she did it, how she turned something great into something breathtakingly beautiful, but she did. And it’s like a goddamn love letter. To you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Rosie
Once upon a time I loved Christmas.
As a kid, I’d lived for this time of the year. It had nothing to do with the gifts or the never-ending supply of sweets. It had always been about the magic. The love.
It was suspended in the air, like pixie dust, sprinkled on top of everything and everyone, making the world look a little brighter. A lot better.
I thought I’d grow out of it at some point in my life, probably in middle school. It was only natural to stop being as excited for things like putting up the tree or getting your old Santa jammies out of the closet. I thought that I’d become a little more irritated by the snow blanketing the city or the harrowing quest to find gifts for everyone. But that never really happened.
My love for Christmas never faded.
Until this year.
For the first time in my life, the season had knocked on my door and I couldn’t have cared less.
I didn’t put up a tree. I left those red and green pajamas in thedrawer. I finally saw the snow for what it was—a muddy and gray mess. And I hadn’t bought gifts for anyone.
I had even been tempted to pack my things and leave for somewhere far, far away. Somewhere where they didn’t celebrate Christmas.
Yes. Against all odds, I’d turned into the Grinch. My chest, once filled with fuzzy feelings, was nothing more than an open pit now. And the worst part? It wasn’t even bitterness. It wasn’t anger or frustration; it was hopelessness. The joke was on me, I guessed, because I couldn’t even become the grouchy, irritable Grinch. Instead, I had to be a sad, heartsick version of it.