I did need something, a plan to ditch the media. Rosalind and I would have to figure that one out.
I guess money made things happen because within an hour, Rosalind and I, with our luggage, were waiting in a private lounge for the plane to be fueled for the trip.
“Rosalind, what is the meaning of this?” A couple whom I recognized from TV marched across the shiny tiled floors.
Rosalind stood quickly and smoothed out her skirt. “Mom, Dad, what are you doing here?”
Her smile was as phony as a three-dollar bill.
I stood too. “Hi, I’m Derek, you must be Rosalind’s parents.” I held out my hand, but neither moved to take it.
They barely looked at me before turning their eyes back to Rosalind. “Well?”
“Derek has a business to run. I want to see where he lives. I don’t understand the problem.”
Her mother pinned her with a look. “You do understand the problem. I’ve explained it to you every time we’ve spoken since this ridiculous story broke.” Her voice had started to rise, but she checked herself and continued at a lower volume. “You and I both know this marriage isn’t real, and now our names are being dragged through the mud worse than when it was your antics at every club in the state of Nevada.”
“Mom—”
“Go ahead and get on the plane, see the reality of what it’s like to live without your parents’ credit card in your designer purse. Just know when you come running back to us to fund thelifestyle that he can’t, we’re going to expect you to cooperate so we can fix this.”
Rosalind had visibly paled and looked like a child being scolded more than the grown woman I’d come to know. My instinct was to jump in and rescue her from this situation. It was what I did. I took pieces and made them a whole. Wood plus nails equals a house. This was more complicated than that, involving politics I hadn’t even begun to grasp.
Rosalind didn’t reply, and I had nothing to say. It was an ugly, impotent feeling that I hoped I’d never feel again. I couldn’t wait to get back to a place where I understood the world around me.
“We’ll be in touch,” her mother finally said, and her parents retreated from the room.
A few minutes later, we boarded the plane for the three-hour flight to beautiful BC and left the ugliness behind us.
Rosalind changed into warmer clothes but was quiet the entire flight. That powerless feeling I’d had when her parents had stood before her swirled in my chest, so I focused on our plan to avoid the media.
Rather than fly to the closest airport to where I lived, we were going to fly to one further away. Charlotte was going to drive my truck to the airport and leave it there for me. Her fiancé, Nick, would follow in his truck to take her home. Then, as if the plan wasn’t confusing enough, we were going to stay at a small fishing cabin my family owned in the middle of nowhere until interest in us died down.
For better or for worse, we were in this together. Between her insisting we go to my house and my growing protectiveness over her, I had no idea what was real and what was fake anymore.
When the landing gear hit the ground, the sky was dark, and Rosalind’s shiny demeanor had returned.
“You’ve been all over the world, what are you so excited about?”
She tilted her head. “That was on vacation, this is your home.”
I was starting to think it could be her home too if she wanted it to be. Not just for six months either. How would that work? I had no idea. Was she really going to go from Sin City to Springwood, population less than a hundred thousand? Would her parents cut her off if she decided to live in the middle of nowhere with me? I had no idea.
I found my truck in the parking lot easily enough. Charlotte had tucked the key inside the gas cap as she’d promised. There was also a cooler and a half-dozen bags of groceries in the back seat.
Note to self, get Charlotte a kick ass wedding gift.
I was tired from the day, and we had a few hours’ drive to get to the cabin. With the familiar steering wheel under my palms and Rosalind in the passenger seat, I was home.
Chapter 10
Rosalind
I’ve used a driving service most of my life. I’d only learned to drive to use my license as ID at the bar. I’d never given driving much thought beyond, but watching my husband smoothly back his big truck out of the parking spot and onto the road with one hand on the wheel and one on the shifter was doing things to me.
Below the belt things.
Flutters under my pants things.
