Part 27 (1/2)
”You thought he was about to dump you, so you dumped him first.”
”I'm always the one who does the distancing.”
”Well, bully for you, you did it again. See if that keeps you warm at night. Use your head, Rosalie. Call him, say you're sorry, tell him how you feel.”
”I can't. We made a deal, Gina.”
”Then you're right, he won't be coming back. You and that stupid deal. The two of you deserve each other. I'm going to bed. I'll see you on Monday.”
The sound of beeping signaled her to disconnect the call. She had a feeling she wouldn't be getting any ”poor baby's” from Gina over this breakup, either.
Chapter Sixteen.
”You shoudl put some Preparation H on the bags under your eyes. You look like h.e.l.l.”
She'd already tried the Preparation H trick. G.o.d forbid, Gina found out she was commenting on the results. Rosalie kept her voice even. ”Good morning, Gina. And how was your weekend?”
”Better than yours, I see. So, when did you finally stop crying?”
”I did not cry.” Bawled was more like it. She didn't think she'd ever cried herself to sleep, woken up, and done it again before. And she knew for a fact, she'd never done it for an entire weekend.
”Have you heard from Nick?”
”No.” Rosalie didn't think Gina meant listening to the messages he'd left on her cell. They went from curious, to concerned, to worried, to frantic. She couldn't help herself. She'd listened to them over and over all weekend, just to hear his voice.
”When are you going to call and tell him you love him?”
”Never. Don't you get it? We made a deal. It's against the rules to... to...”
”Fall in love? Care about each other? Or maybe, it's against the rules to be human and screw up. At the very least, you should call and tell him you're sorry for scaring the living p.i.s.s out of him.”
”I can't.” Rosalie double-timed it to her office and slammed the door. At least she'd made it before she embarra.s.sed herself... well, okay, before she embarra.s.sed herself further. She sat on the leather couch and willed her tears to disappear. If she started crying again, who knew when she'd stop.
It was two o'clock, and Rosalie wasn't hungry. Gina had buzzed her an hour earlier, saying she was going to lunch. She could have asked Gina to pick something up for her, but she couldn't look at food without getting sick. She'd never felt like this. She hurt all over. She couldn't eat. She couldn't sleep. Every time she dozed off, she'd awaken falling off Nick's side of the d.a.m.n bed.
Even Dave was upset. He'd walked around the house all weekend with a pair of Nick's boxers in his mouth, whining. He'd hardly eaten, and he'd spent most of his time staring out the window, looking for Nick and ignoring her.
Nick had finally hit rock bottom, or at least, he hoped he had. He went to the office, packed up Dave's dog toys, bones, and bed, and tossed them in Rosalie's Volkswagen before he returned it to her place.
There he was, for the entire world to see, driving around in a Barbie mobile, and he couldn't care less.
Going back to the apartment and packing his belongings would likely kill him. He'd sat around all weekend, trying to figure out how to put things back together with Rosalie, but when it came down to it, he had no options. He'd made a deal with her-no strings and no commitments. It would last until one or both stopped having a good time. Obviously, she'd learned the truth, and she'd moved on. If she hadn't, she would have called him, yelled at him, hit him, something that showed she cared and wanted him to come back. Right?
He parked the yellow Beetle in front of the brown-stone and found Dave looking at him through the window. Something white hung from his mouth. G.o.d, Nick missed that dog. That morning, when he'd gone to the office without Dave, Lois had looked at him as if he'd kicked her. She'd gotten up and hurried out of the door. If he hadn't known better, he'd have sworn she was about to cry. Christ. As if he didn't feel bad enough, he had to be responsible for making the Rock of Gibraltar cry.
Nick got out of Rosalie's car, gathered Dave's things, and brought them into the apartment. Dave jumped on Nick and greeted him as though he'd been gone a lifetime. d.a.m.n, Nick was going to miss the big guy, but that was only a miniscule fraction of the hole left in his life by Rosalie. Nick carried in the empty bags he'd brought from his place and started packing. He took his hanging clothes and put them in a garment bag, emptied his drawers into a suitcase, and packed his shaving kit. He dumped the drawer of his bedside table into another bag, tossed in the book he'd been reading, and searched the rest of the apartment, gathering his things. Nick decided to leave the vacuum and food processor he'd bought for the apartment. Not that he thought Rosalie would ever use them, but Nick knew he'd never be able to see them without thinking about Rosalie and Dave. Life was hard enough; he didn't need any more reminders of all he'd lost. Dave followed him around the apartment with what Nick realized was a pair of his boxers. He tried to take them away, but Dave wouldn't let go.
”You drop my drawers, or I'm not taking you for a walk.”
Dave dropped them, but only to go out. When they returned, he picked them right back up again and settled into the corner where Nick had placed Dave's bed.
”Look, buddy. I have to go. You take good care of your mom for me. Okay?”
Nick set Rosalie's car keys on the kitchen counter, right beside the set of apartment keys he'd been carrying. He took one last look around, grabbed his bags, and stepped into the hall, letting the door slam shut behind him. There. He couldn't go back inside if he wanted to. And by G.o.d, he wanted to. He saw Dave watching him drive away in the Mustang he'd left parked in front of Rosalie's apartment when he took his middle of the night walkabout.
Home, sweet home. Nick parked in front of his brown-stone. He knew it wasn't far enough away from Rosalie, but then, he doubted Alaska would be. He put his car in drive and headed for the Long Island Expressway.
He called Lois. ”I'm going away for a few days. I've got my cell if you need me. Oh, and if you hear from Lee, call me right away. Okay?”
”Where are you going, Nick?”
”I'm going to the beach house for awhile. I need to get out of town.”
”You didn't dognap Dave, did you?”
”No. Why would I do that?”
”If you had, Lee would come after you, and maybe you'd both get your heads on straight and work things out.”
”Lois-”
”Don't you 'Lois' me, Dominick Romeo. I've watched you date and dump a plethora of women over the last ten years. You never had feelings for any of them until Rosalie. If you're not smart enough to recognize love when it runs over you and fight for it, well then, you don't deserve it. So go to the beach house and lick your wounds. But let me tell you something, Nick, wounds that deep don't ever heal.”
”She left me, Lo. She doesn't want me.”
”Are you sure of that? Did you ask her? Did you talk to her at all?”
”I've got to go. I'll call you in a few days.”
”Stop at the grocery store before you start drinking. You'll be in no shape to drive afterward, and I'm not driving all the way out there to feed you.”
”If she calls-”
”I know. I'll get in touch.”
Rosalie worked until eight. She was avoiding going home. She'd called her neighbors, Henry and Wayne, earlier. It sounded as if they knew Nick had left, and they said they'd be happy to take care of Dave. She would have worked later, but by eight, she was dead on her feet. All she'd eaten was... nothing. Unless you counted the milk in her coffee-she'd had a lot of that.
When Rosalie left the building, she scanned the street, hoping she'd see Nick's car. She didn't.
When she got off the train at her stop, she looked for Nick. He wasn't there.
When she got home and found her beloved yellow Beetle parked in front of her apartment, she fell apart. Right there, on the front stoop of her brownstone, she lost it. Nick was gone. He'd come back, but only to return her car. Oh, G.o.d, she'd thought it hurt when he walked out. She'd thought maybe, after he cooled off, he'd come home and at least have a fight with her-give her a chance to explain. She thought he cared enough to yell at her. But he didn't. He'd returned her car.
”Rosalie? Is that you, darlin'? Wayne, come out here!” Henry sat beside her on the stoop, put his arm around her, and pushed her head against his chest.
”Henry? What is it? I've got dinner... Oh, my Lord, Rosalie. Is she hurt? What happened?” Wayne always reminded her of a hummingbird. He was small, flighty, and never stopped moving, but was amazing to watch. She didn't have to open her eyes to know he was in a full dither.