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  “You know I was never home anyway,” Marisol said, as though to absolve herself of any guilt.

  Rosalie couldn’t even bring herself to sound bitter. Mostly, she was trying to make sure she got enough air.

  She leaned her elbows on the desk to fortify herself. Marisol sounded so upbeat about giving up on her marriage. Rosalie needed to call her dad right away, which meant ending the conversation with her mother quickly.

  Rosalie had spent years tamping down her anger at her mother, to the point she didn’t even realize she was doing it. She’d tamped down until her ire was as tough and impenetrable as desert dirt. But now something was quaking below the surface, and Rosalie worried all her work would be undone; her anger would erupt, and her fury would become so permanent she’d never be able to speak to her mother in a civil tone again. She panicked, something harsh grating up in her throat on its way to lash out at Marisol.

  Luckily, Alex opened the door of the lobby and strode in. Even more agitated, Rosalie grabbed onto the opportunity like a lifeline.

  “I have to go. A guest just walked in.”

  “Okay. Don’t worry, sweetheart. I promise everything’s gonna be fine.”

  Rosalie didn’t believe a word of it. “Okay. Bye.”

  “Love you, baby—” Rosalie heard as she lowered her phone and ended the call as quickly as she could.

  Overwhelmed by the news that her parents were separating and disarmed by Alex’s presence, Rosalie didn’t lift her gaze to meet Alex’s. She kept her eyes down and said, “Excuse me, I need to make a call.”

  “No problem,” Alex said. Her voice was as smooth and calm as ever.

  Rosalie twisted out of her seat and walked into the back room where the microwave and mini-fridge and extra towels were housed. She closed the door and called her dad, pacing the small space as her body surged with panic. This couldn’t be happening. Her sweet, calm, lonely father didn’t deserve to have Marisol ruin his life. Especially so soon after his mother had died.

  She held the phone to her ear, desperate for Frank to answer and tell her Marisol was playing an elaborate and cruel joke on her.

  But the call went to voicemail, and Rosalie thought she would burst into hysterical tears. She held herself together, zipping up long enough to leave a message.

  “Hey, Dad.” She gulped. “I, um…”

  She paused, realizing she was talking to a soulless answering service about something as personal as her parents’ thirty-two-year marriage. She didn’t want to talk about something so precious with no response on the other end of the line.

  “I have some questions about owls. Give me a call when you get this.” She swallowed one last time. “Love you.”

  She hung up, wondering if the machine would ever be able to relay how her heart ached for her father, the last two words a concealed plea for reassurance Frank was okay.

  Rosalie was as shaky as she’d been after she’d fainted weeks before. She wished she could teleport to her bed and roll herself in her comforter and never come out.

  Rosalie pictured the rest of her life in Philadelphia: her parents’ home, her office, Tara’s apartment, her favorite sandwich place. She realized none of those places existed anymore. Her parents’ home only housed Frank’s belongings now; her own apartment was full of Marisol’s things. She hadn’t spoken more than five words to Tara in weeks, and she didn’t have a job to go back to. Even her favorite sandwich place would probably be different.

  Rosalie wondered when she’d ever feel like she was home again.

  Steeling herself to face Alex, she took a deep breath and opened the door. She hoped she didn’t look visibly upset. The last few times Alex had seen her, she hadn’t been at her best—drunk, hungover, and furiously ashamed—and didn’t want such unflattering situations to become habit.

  “Sorry,” Rosalie managed.

  “Everything okay?” Alex said.

  Alex was leaning on the counter, tilted forward. Rosalie saw the intense way Alex was looking at her, the depth of her concern, and caved. Alex’s silence invited confidences.

  “My parents are splitting up.”

  Alex’s face shifted back into a look of surprise and apprehension, but she didn’t say anything.

  Rosalie realized one of the things she liked most about Alex was how much space she afforded Rosalie. She never talked over Rosalie, never pushed her own agenda, never became distracted by her plans for after work. She never swept unpleasantries under the rug. She was always present, which both unnerved and soothed Rosalie. Rosalie had time to figure out what she wanted to say. She appreciated that more than ever now.

  Rosalie felt something push up and clamp in her throat. Hot tears prickled in her eyes, and though she fought as hard as she could, she knew they would spill over. Her face scrunched and her shoulders locked and her stomach tensed.

  Seeing Rosalie start to cry, Alex straightened up, striding around the desk. She stood before Rosalie for only a moment before wrapping her in a protective, nurturing, and unexpected hug. Rosalie felt herself give into Alex’s arms, her shakiness leaving her body to be replaced by heaviness. Alex held her with her usual sturdiness. Rosalie relished it as long as she could before reminding herself this was the girl who had rejected her the night before. She stepped back, running her hands under her eyes to wipe away her tears. Alex stayed close, monitoring Rosalie for any subtle change.

  “I’m worried about my dad.”

  Alex gave a serious nod and kept listening, hands lifted toward Rosalie without touching her.

  Rosalie felt the need to keep rambling. “I don’t want my parents to split up.”

  “Of course not,” Alex said. Her voice was low and honeyed the way it had been at Corte del Cuervo.

  Rosalie kept sniffling for a few minutes before Alex took charge. “Let’s sit down,” she said, anticipating Rosalie’s heaviness would overtake her soon. She guided Rosalie by the elbow to the weary couch under the window.

  Rosalie sat in the sagging center while Alex perched next to her, twisting so she was totally attuned to Rosalie.

  “Maybe I’m being selfish, but I want their house to be there when I go back, you know? I don’t have anything else to go back to.”

  Alex hummed to indicate she’d heard Rosalie but didn’t have any comment of her own.

  Rosalie felt her tears start to mount again and took several heaving breaths to fortify herself against them.

  “C’mere.” Alex drew Rosalie into her arms and nudged Rosalie’s head onto her shoulder. She sat back, bringing Rosalie with her so they were leaning against the back of the couch.

  “It’s okay, Rosie,” Alex cooed. “You’re gonna be okay.”

  Even though Rosalie knew she should push away from Alex and deal with this herself, she didn’t. As hard as it was to be pressed to Alex’s warm, ripe skin knowing Alex didn’t feel the same way about her, it would have been harder to reject the only tenderness she’d received in months, perhaps even years. Rosalie never wanted it to end. She wiped her nose so it wouldn’t drip on Alex and let herself breathe into the space below Alex’s collarbone.

  “Ever since I came here, everything’s falling apart,” Rosalie mumbled.

  “Not everything,” Alex said. “Not the pool or the sinks.”

  Rosalie took an appreciative gulp of air, wishing she could laugh.

  Disinhibited by her emotions, Rosalie figured now was her chance to apologize for her behavior at Corte del Cuervo.

  “I’m sorry about last night. I don’t usually drink like that.”

  “It’s okay,” Alex said with a little smile. “Happens to the best of us.”

  Rosalie sighed. Alex had probably never made inebriated advances on an uninterested girl.

  “Sorry I made things awkward,” Rosalie mumbled. “I’m not good at reading people, obviously.”

  “Obviously?”

  Rosalie resented the question. It felt like Alex was fishing for a verbal acknowledgment of Rosalie’s unrecipr
ocated feelings for her.

  “It’s dumb,” Rosalie said, scanning the ugly carpet. “I thought you were into me.”

  It was quiet and still for a second before Alex said, “Probably because I am.”

  Rosalie’s gaze darted up, searching Alex’s face for any trace of sarcasm or mockery.

  She found none.

  “What?” Rosalie asked.

  “I am into you,” Alex said, slipping her hand onto Rosalie’s knee.

  Rosalie felt her skin tingle at the touch. “Then why did you—” Rosalie cut herself off, not wanting to relive Alex’s rejection.

  But Alex knew what Rosalie meant.

  “Because you were wasted.”

  Rosalie felt a wave of humiliation pass over her, followed by confusion. “But you left.”

  Alex froze, looking stricken. “Did Malcolm not tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  Alex’s whole body drooped as she brought her hand to her face. “Oh, my god, I’m gonna kill him,” she exhaled. “Malcolm was supposed to tell you Jason needed me to bail him out. I would have left you a message or a text, but I knew you didn’t get service…”

  Rosalie recalled Malcolm approaching her at breakfast and being distracted by another guest. Knowing Alex wasn’t a good liar, nor did she have a reason to lie, Rosalie felt the weight of her shame lift instantaneously.

  “Rosalie, I swear to god, I did not mean to ditch you. I was looking forward to having breakfast with you…and seeing what you remembered.”

  Rosalie recalled the events of the night before, the clear pictures of the hotel in the evening leading into blurrier, more emotional snapshots of Alex at the campfire, Alex leading her back to the room, Alex pressed flush against her while they kissed. That memory seemed the brightest, yet the most fleeting.

  “Like when I kissed you?”

  Alex’s face lifted in a sheepish grin. “Yeah.”

  Rosalie felt a giddy warmth spread through her. “I do remember that.”

  Alex’s smile spread even wider, and she looked suddenly very young. “Good.”

  Rosalie sat there radiating with happiness before she grew curious and concerned. “What do you mean Jason needed you to bail him out?”

  Alex’s gaze flitted around the room, and her smile wavered.

  “Bail him out of jail?”

  Alex sighed. “He’s an idiot.”

  Rosalie sat stunned, not sure how to respond. But silence around Alex was okay. Silence didn’t have to be tense.

  “He gets in trouble a lot. More than usual lately.”

  “He’s been arrested before?”

  Alex gave a gruff nod. “I guess I’m an idiot for rushing to the rescue every time.”

  “No,” Rosalie objected. Hearing Alex speak poorly of herself made Rosalie want to shake her. “He’s your brother.”

  She thought about the intricacies of family and how, despite all the infuriating things her parents—mostly her mother—did, she still loved them.

  “If I had a brother, I’d probably bail him out of jail, too.”

  Alex fidgeted with something at her knee for a minute.

  “This is the last time,” Alex said. “My dad gets real mad every time I do. It’s hard because he’s my kid brother, and after my mom left, I was kind of the mom substitute…I didn’t know what I was doing, but I tried to take care of him.”

  Rosalie chewed her lip. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I wish I could help.”

  “It’s not your problem.”

  “I know. But you’ve helped me with almost every problem I’ve had since I got here. It’d be nice to feel like I can return the favor once in a while.”

  Alex nodded and took a deep breath, letting it out. The tension was broken, the air cleared from their series of miscommunications. But there was still a heaviness hanging over them that had nothing to do with each other.

  “We’ve had a banner weekend in terms of family drama, huh?” Rosalie offered.

  Alex cracked a fatigued grin. “Yeah, this weekend didn’t exactly go the way I hoped.”

  Rosalie paused, wondering if she dared to ask. “What were you hoping for?” She hoped she didn’t sound too flirtatious, even if she meant to hint at it.

  Alex’s expression shifted from tired to sly. “Actually, for the most part, it did.” Her gaze flickered to Rosalie’s lips.

  Rosalie felt her body accelerate.

  Alex took a breath. “I was coming in here to see if you wanted to have dinner with me sometime this week. Like, you know…a date. But I figured I should wait until you were feeling better.”

  Rosalie resented her parents even more for deterring Alex from asking her out.

  “Ask me,” Rosalie said, feeling her body surge and lighten, as though it might lift off the couch if she didn’t ground herself.

  Alex twisted her torso even closer to Rosalie with a confident smile. She placed her hand on Rosalie’s knee again.

  “Rosie, will you have dinner with me this week?”

  Even though she knew it was coming, Rosalie felt a heavy flutter in her stomach. She let out a nervous giggle, eyes dancing all over the lobby as she fought the blush overtaking her face and chest.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “I don’t know if I believe you actually want to go,” Alex teased.

  Rosalie felt her face grow warmer, and she directed her smile toward Alex. “Yes.”

  “What was that?” Alex lifted a hand to cup her ear.

  Rosalie swatted at Alex’s arm, but Alex caught it and held Rosalie firm, wrapping her other arm around Rosalie and pulling her head back onto her shoulder. Rosalie pulled her legs up so she was completely curled into Alex, giggling.

  “Yes, I will have dinner with you, Alex,” she said through a laugh.

  Alex gave her an extra squeeze for good measure. “Good.”

  Chapter Nine

  First Date

  Smoothing down her hair and checking under her arms for deodorant stains, Rosalie braced herself against her nerves. Susan was covering the front desk, and Rosalie had more faith in her competence as a receptionist than as a housekeeper, so she knew her anxiety was about Alex. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so nervous to go out with a girl. Her first date with Tara had been a casual meet-up for a glass of wine after a few pleasant message exchanges on a dating website, so Rosalie hadn’t worried about it too much. If they didn’t mesh, she’d be out ten dollars and a few hours of her time. But if this date with Alex didn’t go well, she’d be out much more.

  She picked up her purse, taking one last look in the mirror to check that nothing was stuck to the back of her khaki skirt. Seeing nothing, she opened the door, squinting against the early evening light that shone directly in her face in an onslaught of blinding gold. The sky was painted vibrant colors, but Rosalie couldn’t see it beyond the glare. She shielded her face as she turned toward Alex’s room, wondering if she should knock or wait for Alex to come out.

  Alex stepped out of her room before Rosalie had to make a decision, hitching her chin in greeting. “You look nice.”

  Rosalie looked down. She didn’t look much different from her everyday office attire. “Thanks.”

  Alex strode toward Rosalie, then paused. What happened now?

  “Do you want to drive?” Alex asked.

  Rosalie looked at Alex’s truck, thinking of its elevated cab and how nice their conversation had been the last time she’d been in it. She shook her head, wondering if Alex had been hoping she’d say no.

  “Hop in,” Alex said, unlocking the truck and climbing into the cab.

  Rosalie climbed in as gracefully as she could, hoping she didn’t flash Alex in the process. She wanted to keep a tiny bit of mystery about her until they’d been on a few more dates.

  “There’s this place the next town over I wanted to take you,” Alex said. “They do these caravan things every first Saturday. It’s fun.”

  Rosalie didn’t know what Alex
meant by caravan, but she went along with it. “Sounds good.”

  Alex turned the ignition until it rumbled and guided the truck out of the parking lot heading south.

  They drove for a minute in silence, worry creeping up on Rosalie as she wondered if it would have been a good idea to come up with some conversation topics before the date. She and Alex had spent plenty of time together in peaceful quiet, but now that they were on an official date, things were different. When they hit a bump in the road, the dreamcatcher on the rearview mirror swung, reminding Rosalie of their conversation about Alex’s time on the Navajo reservation.

  “I asked my mom about my first laugh.”

  “Yeah?” Alex turned her head to smile at Rosalie, understanding the mental connection Rosalie had made.

  “She didn’t remember.”

  “Oh.”

  “That’s typical for her.”

  Alex nodded. Rosalie hadn’t been outright abandoned by her mother like Alex, but not all absences were physical. Rosalie and Alex understood having absent mothers.

  “Maybe your dad knows. My dad remembered mine.”

  “Yeah?”

  Alex gave a subtle nod and looked at the road, saying nothing.

  “Are you gonna share?” Rosalie teased.

  Alex smirked, adjusting her hands on the steering wheel. “I was three months old, and my parents took me out for dinner in my little carrier thing. The waitress was fawning all over me. Apparently, she did something I liked, and I laughed.”

  “Was she hot?”

  “Probably.” Alex chuckled.

  “Figures.”

  Alex turned her head and gave Rosalie a neat, fleeting little wink.

  Rosalie was relieved the tension was broken. She would have winked back if she didn’t think she would look silly.

  “So what’s this thing you’re taking me to?”

  “A food truck caravan,” Alex said. “All kinds of trendy Southwestern food. Sound okay?” Alex asked with a tinge of anxiety.

  Rosalie pictured it like the food truck gatherings she’d passed in Philadelphia.

  “Sounds great.” Rosalie smiled. She wished she could reach over and smooth Alex’s arm to assure her, but the cab was too big to do so without it seeming forced.