Page 41 of Fake Dark Vows

The tension in my neck and shoulders is back, and I realize that it has become such a way of life that I barely even notice it these days. I try—and fail—to emulate her casual stance.

“You wanted to stay and build sandcastles. I wanted to move on to the next challenge.”

She nods and wipes the condensation from her glass with her thumb. “What’s the real reason, Brandon?” she asks softly.

I swallow. Now’s my chance to open up, bare my soul, lower the barriers as Jennifer put it. If I tell her the truth, she’ll always have that hold over me, that sliver of me that I’ve never shared with anyone else apart from Kelly. But then again, in a few days’ time, she’ll be on her way home, and I’ll never have to see her again.

“You called me a coward,” I say before I can talk myself out of it.

“Yeah.” She scrunches up her face, the freckles across her nose and cheeks dancing with the movement. “Sorry about that.”

I study her face, the huge eyes, smooth skin, and soft lips. She’s nothing like Kelly, and I can’t even remember what it was about Rose that made me think that in the beginning. Being thrown together today has narrowed the boundary separating us, placed us on the same level, and I can almost forget that my mother hired her to look after her guests.

I can almost imagine that she is someone I met through work, someone I’d buy a drink for if we ever met socially.

“You’re not though, are you?”

Her expression goes through a transformation while she processes my reaction, and then she tips her head back and laughs out loud. “I just…” She shakes her head and stares out across the turquoise water. “I wanted you to be honest with me for once, and you couldn’t even do that.”

“For once?”

I can see it in her eyes that she isn’t sure how far she can push with this conversation. After all, I’m still her dad’s boss, and she’s only my mother’s temporary housekeeper. But more importantly, I get the impression that she doesn’t want to cause a scene in front of Georgie.

“Forget it,” I say, sipping my soda.

“No.” She shakes her head. “You deserve an explanation.”

Do I? I’m not sure anyone has ever said that about me before.

“The truth is, I don’t understand why you don’t like me, and don’t pretend that you do, Brandon.” She raises her finger, a warning for me to let her finish. “I get that Izzie ruined your pants, and maybe I shouldn’t have been in the building, but it’s more than that. I’m pretty sure that even you could move on from sticky handprints on your pants.”

It’s my turn to laugh now. “Even me?”

She smiles at me and sips her soda. “You know what I mean.”

“Because I’m stuffy.”

Rose’s eyes widen, and she blinks at me. “Oh, gosh, I said that didn’t I? Sorry… Again.” She’s quiet for several moments, no doubt psyching herself up to continue. “I called you a coward because you couldn’t even tell me why you don’t like me.” She shrugs. “That’s it.”

I watch Georgie drinking her fruit juice and cuddling the ragdoll, and for the first time—probably because I spend so little time in their company, and when I do, I’m trying to get drunk—I can see a little of my brother in her. I hope she grows up to be like her mom. Nurture over nature. Kelly won’t allow her daughters to become rivals like me and Damon.

I hope.

“You’re wrong,” I say, surprising myself. “I don’t dislike you, Rose.”

I hadn’t realized until I said the words out loud that I’m going to call off the wager with Damon when I get back to the island. Rose deserves better. Sure, she makes me angry, but I’m not so blinkered that I haven’t noticed my anger only ever appears when she calls me out on something she feels is inherently wrong.

Cheating.

Bribery.

Corruption.

They might be a standard part of the Weiss vocabulary, but to someone like Rose, they’re wrong. Good versus evil. Heroes and monsters. Right and wrong.

Steve appears with our food on a tray. I watch Rose as he sets the baskets on the table, her smile that should be a permanent fixture and not something that I can destroy with a casual, selfish put-down. Is the smile for the bartender’s benefit or for me?

Why does it suddenly feel important for me to find out?