Cuts Like An Angel (12 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Josh

Josh leaned back against the headboard, crossing his legs over at the ankles. The relief in him was sudden, the moment he had heard her voice. He had called the helpline and some bloke had answered, making him wretch inside. He had hung up right away, heart pounding, blood rushing through his veins. He called back a second time and this time it was a woman, but it wasn’t Rosie. He couldn’t ask for her by name either, it was against policy. He knew that and she would be fired … if one could get fired from a voluntary job that was. He would manage to somehow cause that; he was good at that shit.

It took him a good hour to call her mobile. First he had made coffee, then a sandwich. Then he played with the new phone he’d picked up on the way home. Programming numbers into it and agonizing over the two phones and the two parts of himself that wanted to reach out to her for different reasons. After a good hour, he dumped the cold coffee down the drain and made himself another one. Why wasn’t she there? What was wrong? She’d lied to him hadn’t she? Said she needed to work tonight and she didn’t. This as the case with all women, they lied, all the god damn time and he was the jerk that had fallen for it.

He’d paced a while, his sandwich threatening to make a second appearance. Leaning against his wardrobe, he slammed his head forward, bashing his forehead off the hard wood.
Idiot
. That was him. Always the damn fool.

It was while standing there, after smacking his head for the third time and finding no relief, he had reached for the blade on his cabinet, but instead he had seen Rosie’s number, scribbled on a piece of paper. She wouldn’t have given it to him if she didn’t want him to call, right?

No, you dumb shit, she wanted William to call, not Josh. It was Josh she lied to. How did this happen? How could William the loser possibly be the one to get the girl?

Josh grabbed his phone and sat on his bed, staring at the screen, piece of paper in his hand. He flicked it back and forth. Call her, don’t call her. Let William die … this was all Maria’s fault, always her fault.

Putting his phone down and the paper, Josh got up, paced and glared out of the window for a moment. 

He clutched his head. This wasn’t him. This wasn’t how he thought. Josh, William, Maria, like a triangle of crap all managing to mess everything up. Snatching up the paper and his phone again, Josh punched the numbers in and pressed call before he could change his mind

“Rosie?” he said shocked that she had picked up.

“W-William?” she said and his heart soared just at the sound of her voice. God it was so beautiful. Enough to light up any of his days. He couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he leaned back on the bed, a calmness settling into his skin, turning down the fire that had been raging just a moment ago. He listened to her as she talked, he listened to her as she laughed—as he
made
her laugh. He didn’t even care that it wasn’t Josh, it was William, but it all made him ache inside, hearing the hurt in her tone. 

“Tell me what happened on your date, sweet Rosie. I bet you misread everything,” he soothed, lowering his voice to disguise it. Maybe all wasn’t lost for Josh.

“I screwed up,” she blurted out in that way she had. “I …”

“Tell me.”

“I’m such an idiot.”

He smiled and relaxed. She didn’t recognise the voice. “I doubt that. Emotions get in the way of our brains sometimes.”

“Mine do, all the time.” Josh loved the way she spoke, the softness of her accent. He could listen to it all night, especially on those dark nights. It was like hearing a smile, but words instead. “It wasn’t even a real date. I mean. It wasn’t a date. I just …”

“What?”

“I misread it all maybe. His name is Josh. He wants to come and work on the helpline and we met for coffee to talk about it. And oh my God, he gets there, right? And he’s this … hunk.” She gasped before whispering. “I was
not
prepared for that.” Josh’s smile hurt his face as she went on. “Then we went for a ride on his bike and ended up back at his house. I don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t a date.” She paused for breath, sounding like it agonized her. “I’m such an idiot, right? I mean the guy probably was just being nice or trying to get a job, and there I was all over him. He smelled so good,” she mumbled as if in tormented memory to herself. “Then this woman calls,” she said, her voice turning harder. “His girlfriend probably, or wife, mother of his child.”

“He has children?”

“He might,” she strained out.

Josh chucked. “Rosie.”

“What,” she said softly, sadly maybe. Sad … he didn’t ever want to hear that tone in her voice.

“So he took you to his house, right?”

“Yes.”

“On his bike?” When the words left his mouth he tried to think if she had said bike, maybe she hadn’t, shit. He paused, waiting for what she would say.

“Right and we ended up at his house, just sitting on the swing.” She sighed longingly it seemed. “Was so amazing.”

“Well let me tell you something,” Josh said, shuffling down on the bed and resting his head against his arm, beyond thrilled to hear how she’d actually felt. “If it were
me
and we met for coffee, I would want to spend more time with you. So I would ask you if you wanted to do something together. Is that what he did?” he skirted around, trying not to sound like he knew too much.

“Yes, but,” she paused. She was moving. He heard the soft sound of her footsteps over the phone.

“But?”

“Well, why would he want to spend time with me?”

“Because you’re wonderful. Maybe he saw that.”

“William … I.”

“What is it?”

“I tried to call him. Twice, and he hung up on me.”

Josh sat up straight. Shit, that was her? His stomach knotted.

“Then he just replied
Okay
, when I sent him a message. If that isn’t a sign that he isn’t interested, I don’t know what is.”

“Maybe he was busy,” Josh suggested quickly. “He’d had to run off.”

“Did I tell you that?”

Crap. Josh pushed himself off his bed. Shit. “Yes. You must have. I …” way to go there William, mess this one up too. Can’t blame Maria for it.

Rosie sighed down the other end before he could dig himself an even bigger hole. “Yes, of course, right.” She puffed out air, sighing some more. “Sorry, I’m such a drag tonight.” Josh struggled with how to put things back on track. “Hey,” she called to him.

“Yes?”

“You called the helpline tonight, right?”

“Yes,” he said cautiously, wondering where this was going and waiting for her to tell him not to call her personal number again.

“Is everything okay? I mean, if you called ...”

“Oh … yeah. I’m fine. I… just needed to hear your voice. I’m okay.” He hadn’t cut today, which was good, but he had slammed his head into the wardrobe, which was not so great, but it wasn’t the same. “Maybe you should text this bloke again. Ask him for a proper date.”

She laughed sarcastically. “Yeah, he’ll probably run a mile. Not even reply this time.”

“You never know.”

“I’ll wait for him to text me.”

Josh stared at his other phone, Josh’s phone. The urge to text Rosie right then and make her feel better made his fingers twitch. He tapped them on the screen. Would she know? She wouldn’t, would she? She’d not have a clue. He clicked the other phone open, scrolled to messages.

“
I’m really sorry about today. Would you like to go out to dinner?”
No. Too forward. Too stupid. He deleted it.

“William?”

“Yes?” he said, realising she had been talking.

“Is everything okay, you’re all … quiet.”

“No. No I’m okay. Sorry. Tell me again what you were saying.”

“It’s okay.” And there it was, that sad tone again, caused by him. Maybe William’s mother was right. He just made people miserable all the time.

“I need to go, Rosie. Is that okay?” Suddenly his head hurt, his mind raced. He sank down to his knees on his bedroom floor, William fighting for space in his head.

“William, is everything okay?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “Sorry. I’ll call you. I promise. Take care my sweet Rosie.”

Josh clicked close on the phone and ended the call. The lump in his throat swelled, pushing him. Stupid William. 

“Sorry,”
he said in text to her. Not from William, but from Josh.

Chapter Eighteen

Rosie

Rosie hung up only to have her heart jolt at the vibration of the phone, signaling a text. “Josh,” she whispered, sliding her finger over his name.
Sorry.

Sorry? Fear and dread ran mean circles around her hope, shoving it and poking it. Her fingers shook as she typed.
What for?
She stared at the two words, realizing they needed to be right. But what was right?
What for
seemed safe enough.

I want to see you.

A frail cry shot from her as she fought to see through her tears.
I want to see you too. When?

I’ll let you know soon.

Okay.

Soon. Soon could mean tomorrow. Or next week. Before she could ratchet up the negative assumptions her phone rang. She hit the green button. “Hey,” she said, smiling.

“Rosie?”

A gasp of shock escaped her and she glanced down at the screen. Fuck-fuck-fuck. “Mom?”

“You were expecting me?” she asked, sounding highly doubtful.

“No, I … I was expecting somebody else, actually.”

“Right,” she said, like she’d lied to her. An anger Rosie hadn’t felt in a while twisted her guts. What did she even want? “Well, I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to know that I’m coming to visit you.”

“What?”

“What?” her mom shot back, offended. “What do you mean, what? Is that how you show your gratitude when I say I’m going to go visit you in that Godforsaken land?”

Rosie felt like a trapped bird in a cage, her mouth stuck open in shock and confusion. “Why?” she finally blurted, rubbing at the sudden migraine stabbing her brow.

“Because I’m your mother,” she stressed with disgust. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing is wrong with me,” Rosie said. “You don’t need to come.”

“I know I don’t
need
to come, I’m coming because I
want
to.”

“Why would you want to come?” Rosie tried to keep the shrill from her tone. “It’s going to be nasty and cold here very soon.” Not really, it was just about to be gorgeous.

“And why don’t you want me to come? I’m sure you’re dying to show me how great you’re doing over there all by yourself?”

Rosie froze in her tracks, her gaze narrowing at that. “You haven’t cared before Mom, why start now?” And she still didn’t care. She was sure of that much.

Her mother gave a derisive snort. “Stop being so dramatic. I’m scheduled to arrive in three days ish.”

“Three days!? And where are you staying?”

“With you, of course.” Like Rosie was being obtuse.

“Me?”

“What’s wrong, Rosie?”

Rosie’s jaw clamped tight at hearing the derision in her tone. Her mother
knew
she was just coming to snoop out her failures and Rosie hated that. But like hell would she ever admit defeat. Her mother would never hear Rosie admit she was right about how hard it would be. She already thought she was some Wall Street prophetess.

“I was
sure
you’d be ready for some company.”

“I have friends,” Rosie assured in sharp defense, back to pacing.

“Do you?”

“A boyfriend. Yes,” she said, nodding and smiling while imagining her mom’s shock.

“A
boy
friend,” she dragged, making sure to let her disbelief through loud and clear.

Rosie hated how she knew every damn thing about her past, especially her talent for attracting all the wrong kinds of dickheads. “Yes, a very nice Englishman, in fact. Successful. He’s a doctor.”

“Right.”

Fury shot through Rosie. She’d just called her a liar. “His name is Josh,” Rosie went on. “and … and we share a lovely home.”

“You’re shacked up with an Englishman?” she said, sounding disgusted.

“I’m not
shacked up.
We’re friends. Roommates,
Mother.
I’m not a slut like Lacey. I like to date my boyfriends long enough to know they’re not empty headed … gym, rat jocks, riding on daddy’s coattails.”

“What do you have against inheriting greatness? And it’s not a crime to be handsome, successful, and healthy, Rosie.”

“I happen to want a man who can think for himself and isn’t daddy’s robot.”

“Derrick is nobody’s robot, sweetheart. He’s done quite nicely. His father made him the Vice President of the company just last month.” The soft words were spike needles in her eyeballs. “I don’t know why you insist on going after the empty-headed, empty bank account, empty future bums.”

“You don’t need to come here,” Rosie decided, her right hand up in firm adamancy.

“But I do. I have papers for you to sign.”

Rosie froze. “What do you mean?”

Her mom gave a long sigh of defeat, laced with boredom. “I’m giving you your inheritance. Unless you don’t want it.”

Rosie’s mouth hung open in astonishment.

“That’s after I see you actually
are
making it there. I told your father that we will
not
contribute to poverty.”

Shit. Shit shit. “There is no poverty here.”

“I’ll see soon enough.”

“Yes you will. Come right on down,” Rosie challenged, unable to admit defeat even though she had already lost. She just couldn’t bring herself to admit it. Not in that second.

“England is technically up, Rosie, but yes, I
am
coming.”

“Right.” Smartass. “Come on up, come on down, come on sideways.”

“My plane will land at Manchester. You do have decent transportation to pick us up?”

“Us?” Her heart raced at who she might mean. “Of course I have decent transportation.”

“Fantastic. Lacey and I will be there for three days. I can’t wait to see just what you’ve been up to.”

Lacey? Her sister? God why her? Why not anybody but Miss Fuck-America? Rosie realized what this was all about now. Mom and her precious favorite weren’t coming to have her sign; they were coming to prove to dad that Rosie still wasn’t ready for the burden of financial
relief.
“I can’t wait too, Mom. Call me before you board the plane?”

“Will do,” she cooed.

What if she
was
going to give her the inheritance? God, Rosie was royally
screwed
when they got here and saw her shitty life, shitty house, shitty car, and shitty looks. Shitty was her style and she wore it with a shitty attitude. “Can’t wait to see both of you.”

“Of course you can’t, Rosie,” she said, dripping with pity now.

Rosie nodded with her eyes closed. “I have to go; Josh is calling in.”

“I don’t hear anything.”

“Bye Mom.” Rosie hung up and stared at the phone, feeling her stomach pushing into her chest until she had to fight for air. “Oh
God
,” she finally croaked, pressing the heel of her hand to her throbbing forehead.

Rosie jumped when her phone buzzed. She looked down and saw Josh had texted.

Will you meet me?

Her fingers flew over the keypad.
Sure. When? Where?

Do you know where the bridge at Guy’s Court?

Rosie thought.
I can google map it.

He texted her the simple directions, and she realized she knew exactly where it was.
I know that place, yes.

See you in thirty? I’ll park on the median at the north side of the bridge. Where the pavilion is.

Okay. I’ll see you soon.

Rosie hurried to her car, not even taking the time to freshen up. She paused, looking down at the pink cotton sundress then continued out. It was sleep wear to her but technically it counted as day wear. She drove toward the bridge like Cinderella after the clock had struck midnight and all the magical things had returned to
shitty
. But the prince had called and said
come
meet
me.
Of course, she jumped right into her shitty pumpkin of a car, not caring she no longer looked like a princess or ever did. She was too busy being happy he called, too busy worried about
why
he was sorry and why he needed to see her right then.

Under normal conditions, she’d spend the minutes getting there destroying all hope. But not this time. This time she was thinking of things like her mother and sister coming. Coming to meet her boyfriend Josh and see the lovely home they shared. Meet the handsome, successful doctor. Oh he was handsome, and he did certainly have a lovely home. Who was to say he
wasn’t
a doctor and he’d forgot to mention it?

Oh God, what had she done?