Page 30

ROSIE

Standing in my flat and reading a note a stranger left for me was probably a low point of my life. I’ve already tried to forget it existed, but an anonymous stranger calling you a dirty whore is just something that lingers in the mind.

It was an easy decision to move out, pack up the rest of my stuff and close the door on that chapter of my life.

If I had a backbone, I would have stayed longer, made more of a point of claiming my own independence before letting a man take care of me.

But it isn’t just me I need to worry about.

I have less than three months until Smudge arrives, and the thought of finding a new place to rent in London that is safe and stable overtakes any pride I have.

Jackson offered to hire a removal team, but I’ve moved myself in and out of every place I’ve lived in since I was eighteen years old and I’m not about to let any more strangers into my space than I absolutely have to.

Which is why Jackson, Anya, Danny and myself spend a day boxing up every item of my belongings.

Anya and I are tackling the bedroom while Danny and Jackson attempt to pack up the heavier furniture in the living room. Jackson has insisted we take everything, even though I know that tiny sofa is going to look out of place as soon as it’s in any room in the new house.

Anya’s version of packing is taking all the clothes out of my wardrobe and putting them in trash bags. It’s very efficient.

The drawers are empty now, so I attempt to lift the corner to pull it out from the wall.

“Jackson,” Anya calls out to the boys. “She’s trying to lift things again.”

I glare at her. Traitor.

“ Rosie Taylor , blankets and cushions only !”

“How many cushions does the man think I have?” I grumble.

“I heard that!” Jackson shouts, from down the hall. “And the answer is not enough.”

Anya snorts. “It’s cute how protective he is. I love this for you.”

I sigh dramatically but can’t hide the smile that pulls at my lips as I return to folding clothes on the bed.

“Aha!” Anya exclaims. “I knew you’d keep it!”

She pulls out the long red dress I wore to my nineteenth, folding it over her arm like it’s a bridal gown.

I laugh. “I didn’t even know that was in there.”

I touch the soft material. I fell in love with the dress when I saw it and used almost an entire paycheck from waitressing to buy it.

It hugged my curves in all the right places and made me feel like a million bucks…

until I got home from my party and found messages from my sister saying I looked like a pig in lipstick.

I shoved it in my wardrobe and never wore it again .

“You should wear it to dinner tonight.”

I groan. She has not let this go and it was made even worse when Pip and Cassie flew over this week. The plans have been firmly in place without any of my input.

“I think it’s a few years out of style,” I soothe. “And it probably won’t fit me anymore.” I wave a hand at my belly, which I think grows bigger just by looking at it.

I gently lower myself to the mattress before Anya gets any closer to shoving it over my head.

“You might be right,” Anya says, biting her lip. “I’ll ask Pip what she thinks.”

Anya hooks it over the curtain rail and takes a picture. My phone buzzes in my pocket.

Anya

@Pip what do you think of this for Rosie?

Pip

I see the vision

I appreciate the vision

I already have a dress ordered and arriving at the house within the next few hours

Me

How did you even get my measurements??

Pip

I have my ways

I chuckle under my breath. “Seems like the dress is a bust.”

Anya frowns. “Fine, but I still think you should wear this again.” She lays it on the bed next to me, longingly stroking the material .

I don’t tell her that I don’t think I ever will, that I don’t think I’ll be able to wear it without thinking of the gut punch I felt when I got home and read that message. I can’t get rid of it, but I can’t look at it either.

I quickly fold it up, rolling it into a ball in my suitcase.

The wardrobes are basically empty, the drawers bare, and the only thing left are the faded curtains hanging on the rail.

“I think we’re done in here,” I say, flipping the suitcase closed.

I stand and go to slide the case of the bed, but Anya smacks my hands away. “Don’t make me call him in here.”

I roll my eyes playfully before following her out of the room. My computer is already packed up and in the van, so the only furniture left is the old desk and chair that I’ll be happily leaving behind.

“Rosie, you can’t tell me this is comfortable,” Danny says, settling into the chair awkwardly.

Jackson gestures as if to say “ See? ” and I groan. “God, let it go .”

Danny jumps up and helps Anya grab the suitcase. “I’ve got this, freckles.”

“My hero,” she drawls.

He lifts it effortlessly, flexing his biceps in his tight t-shirt.

Jackson claps his hands. “I think that’s everything, pretty girl.”

“I just want to take another look around.”

“You got it.”

I wander through each room, checking under corners and inside cupboards.

Nothing. I’ve hired a cleaner to come in and do the final deep clean.

I know my landlord will dock my deposit for even the slightest mark, but I don’t have the patience to get on my knees and inhale bleach fumes just for a tight, scumbag landlord to squeeze the last few pennies our of me to pay off his third mortgage. Screw that.

By the time I meet Jackson at the front door, I’m ready to leave. “I’m ready.”

I send him an exhausted smile and reach to swipe my bag from the kitchen counter.

“I’m not,” Jackson says, before his lips capture mine and my head empties.

My bag drops to the floor as my hands come around his broad shoulders until they fist in his dark hair. His hands cup my behind and pull me closer. I want to be closer. I want to meld our bodies together until there’s nothing that exists in the world but this moment.

He effortlessly slides his hands under my thighs and I gasp as he lifts me onto the counter.

I should protest more, that I’m too heavy, that it’s too risky but I’ve never felt more safe than when I’m in his arms.

I let my thighs open and hook my feet behind his back. His erection rubs against my center, and I moan with pleasure.

“Are you guys—whoa, okay, never mind.” We break apart at Anya’s voice as she slams the front door behind her.

I drop my head to Jackson’s chest with a embarrassed giggle.

“I’m ready now,” Jackson says with a smirk, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

I press my fingers to his smile. “Help me down.”

He effortlessly lifts me until I’m back on my feet.

“I would like to give you guys a minute or an hour or whatever, but we only really have the van for another few hours before it closes and I refuse to pay extra,” Anya says, sticking her head through the door with her hand over her eyes.

“We’re coming, we’re coming,” I laugh.

“In that case, I can give you five minutes at least.”

“ Freckles ,” Danny’s scandalized voice shouts from the hallway.