Wild Love (Rose Hill, #1)(6)
I’m stunned into silence. I blink back at the man I’ve lived with for the past two years, a mixture of fury and devastation twisting inside of me.
My mouth moves and so does my body, but not in conjunction with what I feel inside. “Yeah. For sure. Wouldn’t want to jeopardize anything.”
I nod as I pat his hand, which is still on my leg. But I’m uncertain who’s reassuring who here.
All I know is that Ryan’s reaction isn’t what I wanted from him.
Which is why I take his hand and remove it from my body.
“I’m glad you agree. I think I’d just carry on with my work if I were you.”
If I were you.
“Mm-hmm,” is all I can muster as I pull away from him.
“I know, babe. I know.” He tries to squeeze my shoulder reassuringly and a wave of discomfort washes over me. I don’t want to be touched. “Once you’ve been working in the industry as long as I have, you’ll learn we have to look past some things if we want to be successful.”
In response, I scoff and make an internal note to look past sexual harassment in the future. It’s an especially obnoxious sentiment coming from someone who was out all night getting wined and dined by the bigwigs at his company. I know Ryan thinks what he just said is well-meaning and supportive, but it makes me want to punch him square in the face.
Sweet, professional, MBA-toting Rosie Belmont doesn’t hit people though, so I swallow the urge and mumble, “Thanks,” before walking away.
The disparity between our experiences is a lance through my heart, but not one I necessarily want to take out on Ryan at this moment. I can’t afford to be reckless.
But the fact he doesn’t even seem upset? That smarts.
I didn’t need someone to go in there and beat the shit out of Stan, but I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t have liked it. It might have been nice to feel like the man I share my life with has my back. That he’d defend my honor—lame and old-fashioned as that might sound. Even the tiniest spark of ferocity over my safety, the injustice of it all, would have sufficed.
Hell, I’d have settled for a hug.
I get neither.
When I go to leave later that morning, Ryan offers me a thumbs-up and says, “Go get ’em, tiger,” from behind the glass shower door.
I feel sick on the train the entire way to work.
I begin to shake on the elevator ride up to our floor.
I keep my eyes down, knowing that if I can just make it to the privacy of my tiny office, I’ll be able to regain my composure behind a closed door.
But I’m intercepted by Linda from HR. She has an apologetic expression painted all over her face before any words even crest her lips. “Good morning, Rosalie. Once you’re settled, can you come to my office?”
“Yes, of course.” My voice cracks as I nod.
We exchange matching forced smiles, but when I turn away from her, a big, fat tear rolls down my cheek. Because I know exactly what’s coming.
CHAPTER THREE
FORD
Cora and I have spent the last hour on the front steps of the dilapidated barn, looking over our Kindred DNA results. While I scoured the internet for reliable assessments of Kindred’s testing accuracy, she sat quietly beside me, waiting. I saw her eyes roll when I typed the same question, only worded differently.
In my defense, how accurate is Kindred testing? might bring up different results than is Kindred testing ever wrong?
“So you’re pretty sure I’m your biological dad?” The question sounds stupid to my own ears, but I’m having a hard time processing this news.
“Pretty sure.” Cora fiddles with her shoelaces, and I stare at the scribbles she’s made in black marker over the white toe of her sneakers. I used to do that too. “Just recently found out my parents used a sperm donor. And this links us.”
Am I supposed to hug her or something? Seems kind of creepy, considering I don’t know her at all. I opt to find out more information instead.
“Are you… Do you…” I run a hand through my hair, frustrated by my loss for words. “Do you have a home?”
Her responding sigh is so dramatic, so exasperated, I feel my lips twitch. It reminds me of my sister, Willa.
“So you came to find me?—”
“Yup. And I found you. Your name is in the news because of your new production company and shit. Kids these days are pretty good with the internet.”
“I just… I’m sorry. I’m having a hard time processing this. I didn’t expect, well, you.”
Her chipped, black-polished nails trace the scribble-covered rubber toe of her shoes. “You donated sperm. What did you expect?”
“To walk out of that building with a much needed one hundred dollars in my pocket.”
An awkward silence descends between us. And guilt creeps in. I need to rein in my attitude, not be a dick to a child. “I was nineteen. Wasn’t really thinking beyond that. Never imagined there could be a kid out there.”
She scoffs. “Did you forget donating?”
I shrug, elbows propped on my knees. “Sort of.” My eyes slice in Cora’s direction. “Sorry.”
Her eyes roll again, but her cheek hitches up for a beat too. “It’s okay. I thought you were loaded or some shit. Your dad is a famous rock star. Why did you need a hundred bucks?”