But that wasn’t really true, was it? Nothing had been right since the night Eddie under-reacted to her good news and she over-reacted to her disappointment. Like a runaway snowball, hurt feelings layered upon hurt feelings until the final icy crash.
She clutched the blanket to her cheek. “Eddie broke up with me.”
“At a wedding?” Amara’s eyes flashed. “What an asshole.”
“He had his reasons.” She sniffled hard. “I blew it, Am.” She spluttered into another round of ugly, snotty sobs. She ought to be wrung dry by now, but the tears kept coming.
“Hey now.” Amara pulled Rosie’s head onto her lap and stroked her hair.
David’s voice came from the kitchen. “I’ll make you some tea.” In this big, open-plan apartment with its wall of windows overlooking Lake Washington, he was bound to hear their every comment. Rosie was beyond caring. Might as well walk the streets of Seattle wearing a sandwich board sign: I had a good thing, and I fucked it up.
A moment later, David set down a tray holding a white ceramic teapot painted with blue peonies, along with cups and a plate of shortbread cookies. “Sorry you’re hurting, Rosie.”
“Thanks, David. You’re a peach.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, just like Eddie would’ve done. “Yeah, well, I’ll go make up the guest bed.” He dropped a kiss on Amara’s head and left.
“He’s a keeper.” Rosie pushed upright and reached for the tea.
Amara gently swatted her hand. “I’ll pour. You’re too shaky.”
“Pretty tea set. From Maa Maa Chu?”
“Of course.” Her sister handed her a cup of lemon-scented tea. “When you move out, she’ll give you the whole kit too—tea stuff, noodle bowls, and those soup spoons we liked when we were little, tablecloth, mah-jongg set…
“You know how to play mah-jongg?”
“Nope. Don’t tell Maa Maa.” She put two cookies on a plate and set it on Rosie’s lap. “You look really pretty, by the way. Except for the smeared makeup and the mashed hair.”
“And the ugly-cry face.” She chuckled through her tears. “I’m a zombie in a party dress.”
Amara nudged a box of tissues toward her. “So, spill.”
Fortified with tea and sugar, Rosie launched into the whole, pathetic tale.
When she finished, Amara pinched the bridge of her nose. “What a clusterfuck. What’ll you do now?”
Rosie shrugged. “Nothing I can do except leave him alone.” She clutched a throw pillow to her stomach. “And now he’s my boss.”
“What?” Amara’s eyebrows flew up.
“Just for a few weeks, until River gets back from his fishing trip.”
“You lead a complicated life, sis.” Amara patted her knee. “Fishermen and tattooed oranges and vindictive Russian dry cleaners. Sure you don’t want to come work for David’s dad?”
“Thanks, but no. I worked too hard to get this apprenticeship, and I really like Magda. I’ll just have to suck it up and make nice at the bar until this blows over.” A sickening thought struck her—would Eddie have to give up his job at Bangers? Running the dry cleaners full-time would take up all his energy. Better that way for her, but he relied on their work family too. He’d be bereft without them.
David stepped out from the hallway and cleared his throat. “Babe, I can’t find the pillowcases.”
“Probably in the laundry room. I’ll get them.”
David sat down in her place. “You feeling better?”
“Nope.” She leaned her head onto his shoulder. “Thanks for letting me stay. I hope you didn’t cut your evening short.”
“Nah, the party was dull anyway.” He gave her a brotherly side-hug. “And you’re always welcome. So, you need me to beat this guy up?”
The idea of pale, lanky David taking on Eddie coaxed a smile to her lips. He might be taller, but Eddie would have his pasty ass on the ground in no time.
“That’s okay.” She leaned onto his shoulder. “We didn’t really fit anyway. I guess I knew that from the start.”
“Hey.” He squeezed her shoulder. “If he doesn’t appreciate you, fuck him.”
She groaned. “I don’t think he wants to anymore.”
“Oh, honey. You’re a sexy she-beast.” He threw a glance over his shoulder. “Don’t tell your sister I said so, but seriously, if that guy—what’s his name?”
“Eddie.”
“Hmph. If Eddie doesn’t see your beauty, he’s an idiot.”
“My looks aren’t the problem. It’s more like a difference in philosophy.” She drew her knees to her chest. “Like, what’s the right thing to do—pursue your own dreams, or sacrifice for your family?”
David put his feet up on the coffee table. “That opposites attract stuff doesn’t always work out in real life. It helps if you’re on the same page most of the time.”
“And we’re not even in the same book.”
“For what it’s worth, I used to feel that way about Amara. It’s hard to partner up with someone so bright and quick. Feels like I’m always lagging behind. Sometimes I still wonder what she sees in me.”
She snuffled into a tissue. “Yeah, that’s how I feel about Eddie.”
David nudged her with his shoulder “Maybe that’s how he feels about you. You’re a live wire, Rosie. You know what you want and what you’re worth. I feel sorry for anyone who tries to stop you.”
“Room’s all ready, Rosie.” Amara stepped up holding a balding plush Basset hound. “You can sleep with Floppy tonight.”
“You still have Floppy?” Rosie jumped up and hugged the one-eyed, well-loved toy to her chest. “I haven’t thought about him in years.” Back in their grade school days, she and Amara would argue over whose doggy he was, sneaking into each other’s rooms to pilfer him during the night.
“Yeah, well, some things you hang onto. I’m sure he misses you.”
Feeling very much like a tear-drunk eight-year-old, she cuddled her old friend and let her little sister tuck her into bed.
Amara patted her hair. “We’ll go out for chicken and waffles in the morning. Good for hangovers and breakups.”
Rosie grabbed her hand and kissed it.
